In the Life (26 page)

Jackson scratched an itch that was bugging him on his upper thigh. It felt good although it did not alleviate the problem. The roughness against his bare skin reminded him that he needed to clip his nails ASAP. That's when it occurred to him that he was wearing only his boxers and undershirt. He did not remember disrobing. Here was another thing that he had blocked out.

"Ummm, guys. Where are my clothes?"

"Jay, you want some Apple Jacks or Frosted Flakes?" Paul asked avoiding the question as he and Mykel looked at each other with a knowing look.

"You heard me, hoe. Where my shit at?"

"You got a little sick last night," Mykel responded sounding like a mother talking to her seven year old. "It was no problem though. We washed your clothes and they are hanging up in my room. I just got them out of the dryer like an hour ago."

"I threw up?" Jackson had never felt so embarrassed in his life. Well, that was a lie. There was that time that he fell of the rock climbing wall in tenth grade. There was no reason that Ahmad Taylor had to witness that blunder. Why, oh why had he fallen in front of his crush/ captain of the football and basketball team? They had to call the paramedics.

"No, actually, it was more like…" Paul fished for words to make the situation sound better. He saw the flushed look of Jackson's face. He tried to help it, but there was no use. "Yeah, you were praising the porcelain gods for a good minute. You ran to the bathroom the minute we got home."

"How the hell did I get that messed up?" Jackson could taste the alcohol on his tongue. He couldn't tell what liquor was most prominent on his pallet.

"All we know is that you kept going over to the bar in the front. You and the bartender were getting real cool and he was giving you drinks all night. They were free but you were tipping him like crazy. Ol' boy had to come out with fifty dollars from you alone."

Jackson could not remember the bartender's name at the time, but he did know one thing. He had probably messed things up with him. Or maybe he had just given the dude exactly what he wanted. Perhaps his hustle was to get folk so liquored up with drinks that they tip him extra. Jackson was familiar with the hustle. He had used similar methods to get better tips at Bennigan's. Sometimes, he would find ways not to charge guests for stuff in hopes that they would notice and give him more money. Was that what had happened? 

"Where is my car?"

"Oh, it is out front," Mykel assured him. "Paul drove home, but it was a task getting those keys away from you, boy. You was about to start making a scene outside the club."

"Enough!" Jackson responded loudly, but soon regretted it when his aching head started vibrating with pain. He felt light headed for a second, but only for a second. He did not want to hear anything else about last night. Obviously, he had acted like a donkey. What further embarrassment could come through this conversation? Had he stripped in the middle of the club and shook his tambourine on the dance floor?

"You cool?" Paul looked with concern as Jackson got up and stumbled towards Mykel's room. Minutes later, Jackson came out fully dressed.

"I am about to be out. Where are my keys?"

"Let me go with you. Hold up, I will be right back." Mykel scurried back to his room to get dressed as well. Jackson gave a puzzled look to Paul who shrugged his shoulders in response.

"I am okay to drive, you know," Jackson called back.

"Yeah, but you owe me a couple of burned CDs, remember? I might as well go now with you to get them or else I will never get them. You know how you are."

"Well, you know that copying CDs is what is killing the music industry."

"Uh huh. Save the sermon for someone else," Mykel said emerging from his bedroom wearing a red and black hoodie with black jeans.

By the time that they got to Jackson's apartment, it was almost two o'clock. Jackson had stopped to get some real substance at McDonald's rather than some cereal. The greasy food seemed to soak up some of the alcohol. Or at least that was what Jackson's mind wanted to believe. To himself, Jackson made a resolution to not drink for a while. However, when he laid eyes on the condition of his apartment, he realized that he may have spoken too soon. All of a sudden, he craved an intoxicating beverage to deal with this shit.

His place was all in shambles. As soon as he walked in the back door, he saw soda and juice containers mixed with empty liquor bottles scattered on the kitchen counter. Spots of red, purple, and brown stained the wooden countertop. To his left, a trash bag laid carelessly on the side of the waste can with its contents falling on the linoleum tiles. The living room was no better. Alonzo’s stereo was still on blasting. The music was adding to Jackson's headache. He quickly set forth to cut it off once he got over the shock of the kitchen. All over the living room floor were cups of melted ice, liquor, or mixture of the two. Jackson counted twelve without even realizing. Mykel started to pick some of the items up but Jackson stopped him. There was only one person that should be held accountable for cleaning up this mess and that was Alonzo.

Jackson heatedly banged on Alonzo's locked bedroom door. The sounds of creaking floors and shuffling of feet let Jackson know that Alonzo was approaching the door. When he did open up, Alonzo was looking about how bad Jackson had been feeling that morning. His smooth chocolate skin looked pale. His eyes, normally full of enthusiasm and life, carried bags underneath them big enough to fit the troubles of the world. Alonzo's lips were crusted over and not the least inviting. Despite all of this, Jackson was not the least bit sympathetic. Had he been like this when the apartment had gotten trashed? No! He had probably been taking body shots off some Puerto Rican papi named Alejandro.

"What the fuck you do last night to have the place look like hell?" Alonzo wiped the sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus on the two men that stood in front of him. Mykel stood to the side not wanting to get involved.

"Yo, Jackson. I will check you later." Mykel could tell an argument was about to ensue. "I am glad I brought my bus pass," he said more to himself as he walked back to the door that they had entered into.

"What? It was just a little after party." Alonzo seemed not to see the big deal. With Mykel gone, Jackson started to lay into Alonzo, putting all the cards on the table.

"Yeah. And I know how your after parties end. Who you end up in here with? Or his he still in there?" Jackson tried to look past Alonzo and to his bed, but Alonzo had not let the door open that wide. Jackson couldn't see anything.

"Nobody," Alonzo said as he closed the bedroom door a little more. "I will clean it all up later. I promise." Alonzo closed the door and locked it before Jackson could respond. Maybe that was a good thing. All Jackson wanted to do anyway was go back to sleep. He decided that he would call the day off from work. He knew that he could get away with it just this once.

Jackson was able to drift off the sleep within the next thirty minutes. He did not let no one or nothing wake him up. He had some anger to sleep off.

Chapter 7

Sometimes the best thing to do is not to do anything. That is what Jackson was thinking to himself. It was his day off and he planned on doing nothing. He was not going to try to hit up Mykel and see what he was doing. Although he should, he wasn’t even going to try to busy himself with things that he had long put off such as doing laundry. And at the top of the list, he most certainly was not going to clean up that mess that Alonzo had made. The apartment was still looking a mess from that after party. Actually, it was now worse. Alonzo had done some cooking and left a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. That shit could sit and fester for all Jackson cared. Alonzo would get the message and clean that shit sooner or later.

Jackson left the confines of his bedroom to search the kitchen for a snack. Some cereal could satisfy his hunger. He found a bowl that had not been dirtied up quite yet, but he ended up having to wash off a spoon to eat with. As he poured the milk over his Honey Bunches of Oats, he heard his cell phone ring. Jackson high stepped it back to his room to answer the phone before the caller hung up. The number on the screen wasn't a familiar one. In fact, Jackson did not even know what city or state the caller's area code belonged to. He almost did not push the talk button in fear that it could be a pesky bill collector. However, his curiosity won out and he answered.

"Hello," he said positioning himself back comfortable on his bed with the bowl of cereal in hand.

"Damn, I was about to hang up. What's good with you?" The voice did not sound familiar at all to Jackson. The man had an accent that was unmistakably southern. It was not overbearing, but even the most casual ear could still pick up on it.

"I am sorry, but who is this?"

"Oh, damn. You forgot me that soon, man? It's Tracy. We met at the club the other night. You gave me your number."

"The bartender?"

"Naw, one of the other niggas you gave your number to," Tracy said jokingly. "Hold up, let me stop cause you might have been giving other dudes your number and I don't want to get my feelings hurt."

"And how would you get your feelings hurt?"

"I am just saying. I want the chance to get to know you, but I rather not have to wrestle other niggas to do it."

"Oh, so you don't like to fight for things you want?" Jackson took a spoonful of cereal in too his mouth. He held the mouthpiece of the phone in such a way that the munching and crunching of food wouldn't be heard.

"I have to get to know you better to even see if you are worth fighting for. Although you probably are worth it, I can't just jump into wars over everybody. And that's even if they are a cutie such as yourself." Jackson was pleased with Tracy's answer and loved the compliment that was thrown in at the end. He chuckled when he thought about how easy he was to be won over. The right flattery could get you almost anywhere.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. So what are you up to?"

"Shit, that is what I am trying to find out from you. I wanted to know if you were free anytime soon. Let me show you a good time."

"A good time?" Jackson imagined what that phrase could mean. A quick romp in the sheets or some head in a parked car. What type of stuff was this dude on?

"Yeah, a good time, dude. Dinner and maybe a movie all of which would be my treat. Just an innocent night out while I try to figure out where your head is at and whether I should break out that fighting gear and camouflage."

"Well tonight could be cool." Jackson perked up at the thought of having a date. They decided that Tracy would meet over to Jackson's at around 8 o'clock and then they would do all planning from there. Nothing was set in stone. They would just go with the flow.

When Jackson hung up the phone, he cut off the television and put on some music that matched his now elevated mood. He danced around his room to some Usher as he decided what he should wear. He had four hours to get ready which was more than enough time. Or at least that is what Jackson thought at first. His room as well as the rest of the apartment was a mess. There was no way that he could let Tracy see any of that. He would be so ashamed to have anyone think that he liked to live in such disorder.

Jackson went to the living room and started to pick up cups. Then, he started doing the dishes. Within three hours, Jackson had swept, mopped, straightened, and cleaned almost every room in the apartment. It was partially nervous energy that caused Jackson to do it. He had not been on a date in months. He had not even had a Valentine due to him being stuck at work on that day. Jackson realized that he needed tonight as a release. And if truly a ‘good time' was had, his body needed some special attention.

Jackson brought some scented candles out into the living room and lit them before jumping into the shower. The Pineapple Sage candle would fill the place with its delicious smell as he got himself ready. Jackson couldn't help but hope for some action that night as he relished the feel of the hot water cascading down his back and ass. It wasn't his main objective for the night, but it sure would be an added bonus.

Not too long after jumping out the shower and applying baby powder to his private areas, he heard a knock at the front door. Jackson was nowhere near ready. He had not even made it out the bathroom yet. There was no time to throw on clothes.