Jayson: A New Adult / Coming of Age Romance (19 page)

JAYSON

My vision distorts to a black parking lot in a dirty, desolate corner of the worst side of Tenderloin. The mansion in Pacific Heights is far away in a different place and a different time. Back then, I never would’ve imagined I’d be allowed inside Candace Schneider’s home.

It’s winter and the hobos hang around burning trashcans for warmth. Thunderous rap music rattles the block as a low rider slowly rolls past, and men with hardened faces nod heads to Monty and me in passing. This is the place where I grew up, the streets familiar. Around the block is the crowded two-bedroom apartment where my family lives. Across the street is the corner store I got busted stealing candy bars once. Old Man Akbar didn’t charge me. He made me work it off, and he kept me on for the rest of the summer so I could have some pocket change and wouldn’t have to steal from him anymore.

This is a place where people like Kit would lock their car doors fearfully while passing through. A place of desperados with a code of silence the police can’t penetrate. I know the dope dealers and gang members, people I stay away from with respect. But one look at me, and anyone would know this is where I belong.

I’m wearing a hoodie and jeans as threadbare as the homeless. My buddy Lamont scored us a bottle for Christmas Eve. Likely pried it from his alcoholic dad’s clutches while the loser was passed out drunk. There’s only two-thirds of amber liquor left in the pint, but it doesn’t matter. It’s whiskey and it’s good shit and it takes the worst of the sting out of the biting wind. I toss the bottle back for courage, swallowing the fiery hard liquor with difficulty. “Here, hold this and keep an eye out for me, Monty.”

I shove the whiskey bottle into Monty’s freezing fingers and pick up the rusty wire clothes hanger we brought with us just for this. “Dude, we’ll get in so much shit if we pull this off,” he giggles. A year younger than me, Monty is my next-door neighbor and has been my best friend ever since we were old enough to steal quarters and walk down to the arcade by ourselves.

“Yeah, well, consider us in the shit, ‘cause we’re in this bitch!” I boast. Slipping the straightened wire hanger in through a crack between the window and the door, I attempt to depress the locks of the car that’s been parked in the lot for days. Around these parts it’s a tossup whether or not the abandoned vehicle is worth breaking into. I look through the dusty glass and spy nothing I want. The floor is littered with fast food wrappers and other debris. There’s an old tape deck instead of a CD player.

As the lock pops, I laugh with the wild exuberance of a stupid sixteen-year-old doing stupid shit. Lamont whoops and runs around to the passenger side, yanks the door open and climbs into the car. I hop into the driver’s seat.

“This is just what I need. Freedom. Fucking Momz wanted me to babysit while she works her second job. I told her it’s Christmas Eve, bitch! Fuck that and fuck them. Greedy fucking bastards,” I reply urbanely.

“You did not,” Monty denounces me with a chuckle.

I don’t press the issue; we both know I’m lying. Letting the seat back, I snap a picture with the cellphone my mom gave me that doesn’t dial out or text. We pass the bottle back and forth, drinking it down to the last drop. Monty and I have never had liquor before yet are probably as intoxicated from breaking the rules as from drinking the pint. The fiery whiskey sloshes around in my stomach and threatens to come back up, but I can’t barf in front of this kid. Monty thinks I’m the best thing since gym socks. He looks up to me like I’m a big brother or something, which is weird because lately I’ve decided I can barely stand him. He’s a yes-man, a sidekick, and he makes me realize I’m wary of guys that offer a challenge. There’s more to our friendship that this, but this part has been troubling me lately, making me angry at him. Yet here we are.

Lamont levers up and out the passenger window, howling at the moon. “Man, fuck the system! Fuck the parents! Fuck the police! Whoo-hoo!” he shouts gleefully. I laugh nervously.

“Cool it, fucktard. We don’t want anybody to come investigate what we’re doing. Are you dense?”

“Yo, who gives a shit what happens round here?” Monty asks happily, climbing back inside. “Wanna see if we can get it going?”

“Be real. How the hell do you think this piece of shit will go anywhere?”

“Watch and learn, my man. Watch and learn.” Using skills garnered from the Internet at the public library, Monty eventually hotwires the vehicle and gets the cold engine to turn over. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his red nose. “It worked!” he says in awe.

“Wow! Neat, dickwad,” I praise him in amusement. I reach over and tousle his hair, and he beams at me. I used to soak that shit up but now it’s just embarrassing. Still, I laugh at his exuberance as I throw the car in gear and get it to move.

The homeless watch us with knowing head shakes, but it’s not like they’ll call anybody. “No fucking way! Hey, you wanna go somewhere? Let’s ditch this place.” I chortle as Monty eggs me on. Revving the engine, I throw the car in reverse and power through the empty lot, fishtailing on the slick iced pavement.

Monty slaps on the radio, finds a station. Guitars scream from the speakers. Monty cocks his arms at odd angles and plays air guitar, his long lank brown hair making him look exactly like a rock star. My heart hammers beneath my chest and I giggle anxiously while I try to keep in control of the spinning car. My palms are sweaty but I grip the steering wheel with both hands.

It doesn’t take long to get bored with playing in a parking lot. Lamont coaxes me to get on the road. Even though I’m seeing double of everything, I don’t let on. In Monty’s eyes, I’m tough enough to handle a whole pint of liquor by my damn self—at least, that’s the impression I’ve given him.

I manage to keep the car between the lines. I barely know how to drive, but this? This makes me feel like a man. Not babysitting. Not helping my mom. Not going to school. Not getting bullied for being poor. Not waking up day after day in the same crowded apartment and knowing that’s what my future will look like. I’ll marry some girl who’ll look forty when she’s twenty-five and work a factory job to take care of whatever offspring I have the misfortune of bringing into this miserable world.

I push the accelerator and watch the dark city streets become a blur, as if I can outrun my fate. Beside me, Lamont’s words slur together in a drunken catcall to danger. The reckless joy ride (going barely forty-five miles per hour swerving down mostly empty streets) lasts a full fifteen minutes before cop cars finally come onto the scene after I accidentally run a stop sign.

“Oh shit!” I shout. There’s more humor in the exclamation than fear. I cut the wheel to shoot down a narrow alley, and Lamont slides toward me, laughing and holding onto the door to keep from being thrown around like a rag doll. I speed up, flashing lights behind me trying to close in.

“Let’s dust these bitches!” Monty crows. He throws the bottle out the window, and I hear tires squeal as the cop car behind us tries to avoid getting hit by the projectile. I hear a crash and look back, laughing when I see the cop that was closing in on us climbing out of a smashed police car.

“Yeah! One down!”

In the foreground, I’m not thinking anything. No thought required to go full throttle. But, in the back of my head are a billion thoughts screaming calamity. My mom is going to kill me for this. She has no idea I left Castiel in charge of Dev and Ash. She thinks I’m home doing a project for the science fair. I’m barely passing science, much less worried about a project. She has so much faith in me, and that’s a lot to live up to. I think she’s a crazy lady with dreams. Nobody gets out of Tenderloin without a good dose of luck. The Zephyrs aren’t lucky people.

The gas needle teeters closer to empty, and I know the night can’t go on forever. At some point we’ll get caught. I know I’m already in trouble. I know I’ve fucked up big time. I want to pull the car over and get out, pray to God the cops don’t pull guns on us. But what for? Nobody’s listening.

The rock music blaring from the stereo clashes with the sound of sirens and Lamont’s hysterical laughter, and when I glance at his face he looks just as scared as me. We’re two people on a rollercoaster who know the next bunch of loops will be the worst flip-flop we’ve ever experienced. But this isn’t an amusement park, and there’s no getting off this ride when we’re ready.

Time slows. I see everything hanging in the balance. Ahead of me is an intersection. Behind me three more cop cars have joined the fray. Beside me is my best friend. A younger boy who looks at me as a role model, whom I have no business putting in danger like this. Someone in the same boat as me, actually a worse boat—with an alcoholic dad and a mom who’s always out partying. He’s got the same kind of future as me. We’re nobodies and this is nowhere.

“Monty,” I say over the cacophony of my life out of control. “You ever…think about just saying fuck this?”

“Wha-what?” he stutters. “Watch the road, man! We can shake these fools!” Lamont assures me, nodding false encouragement.

Unexpected and very unmanly tears cling to my eyelashes as I stare at him, and I guess he sees something in my eyes that makes him nervous. Lamont snaps on his seatbelt at the last minute. I’ll always remember that—the drunken, clueless kid making a snap smart decision. Putting his safety first for a change. When I turn back to look at the road, I see the yellow light switch to red. I don’t slow down. I watch the intersection fill with cars crossing, and I press the gas pedal to go even faster. I faintly hear Lamont screaming, telling me I’m crazy. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the wheel tighter.

By God’s grace, the beat up car hits a deep pothole and leaps a few feet off the pavement, which slows us dramatically before we plow into traffic. As Lamont and I shout in disbelief, awe, fear, terror, excitement, it coasts through the air a brief distance that feels like a mile. The red light flips to green at the last minute. When we hit the ground again, the battered vehicle swivels around five times, sliding through the intersection unharmed. The last thing I see before the crash and black out is a light pole, flashing lights and stars. It’s possible the seatbelt saved Lamont’s life.