Why I Committed Suicide (30 page)

A detective was waiting around for me when I went to work this evening and I could tell I was the one he was looking for when I pulled into the parking lot behind the Tomato with my front seat full of dirty laundry. Apparently some asshole trying to make manager at the record store either recognized me on one of my little dashes for cash or maybe from their security videotape and then ID’d that I work at the Tomato. I was preparing myself mentally, thinking
“no big deal, I haven’t done anything wrong, right? They just have me mixed up with some other guy probably”,
convincing my brain of its own lies.

So the detective was waiting and I tried to play it cool but he’s played this game before and he brought his own deck of cards. The clincher was that he brought Jenifer into the fucking mix. The camera in the
parking lot
had her license plates and the clerk ID’d a blond-haired driver so they had her on file, not me. Shit! Do what you want to me but please leave her the fuck out of it!

I held out, but he broke me down trying to pin this shit on her. He had me damn near in tears because he kept going on about how he just needed me to finger her as the driver, apparently it would amount to a much more severe penalty because of something or other and it would have meant a bigger arrest for him. Vehicle involvement makes it a felony or something I guess and his spiel was probably a load of B.S., but it worked on me. The dick convinced me he really wanted to pin the shit on Jenifer for some reason. He kept asking about her, all I can guess is he must have had some clues from that mall thing with Donut a few weeks ago and he wanted to get her for that too. I finally just broke down and said that I operated entirely independently and that there was no other driver, that whatever was listed as stolen was entirely me acting on my own. He wasn’t happy about that, but finally figured out I wasn’t going to turn in my girlfriend for a felony and he made me write a list of the shit I took from the store. I named about 5 Cd’s and a video game and that was it. I figured they probably had no idea how long I’ve been stealing from there and so I took a gamble and was right. He took the list, said he would call and tell me when to turn myself in to the county jail and then left. What the fuck??!! That’s the first time I’ve heard of a cop letting someone go after they’ve just confessed to stealing something. I watch COPS, and people always go to jail.

After all that I still had to work all night. Even though my rhythm was fucked I still made some cash off the register, gave out some free beer, did my laundry and went home just like normal.

It really fucking sucks that the cops want to get Jenifer so badly. I told her to cool it out; she’s dropped her semester classes and now rides around with her new friend, Donut, most of the day helping him boost shit. He’s good at it, I’ll give him that, but he doesn’t give a fuck about her or anybody but himself and if it comes down to it he’ll sell her out in a heartbeat. I can at least say that I have a job that I make a little money from, but he doesn’t even care about pretending to have anything like that. He’s either in a jail or out stealing to get heroin. That’s it. Not one other thing of significance occurs in his life.

I really hope we can figure out what the fuck we’re doing soon or get the fuck out of this town. I’m not sure how much more of this I can deal with.

I pulled into work for my Thursday night shift and from behind me the ghostly presence of cheap cologne on a tub of lard stuffed in denim with a badge came driving up in his tan, tax paid-for, gas guzzling “work” vehicle. Apparently that call I was supposed to get from the detective about when to arrange to turn myself in fell through the cracks when the fucker decided to let my charges go to warrant and then pick up a little bonus money from the state by bringing me in himself. It just so happens that I’m so easy to find
since I always work the same hours and I was FUCKING HERE LAST WEEK!
I didn’t even get to go and tell my manager why my car would be at work and I wouldn’t, so they’ll probably think I decided to go out on Fry St. and party.

Tan Lard takes me “downtown” and sticks me in city jail where he promptly turns me over and I never see him or his belt buckle again. From there it’s all about waiting to be processed. The guards there took my clothes from me right away and put me in a
really
orange jumpsuit with “DETON CITY JAIL” silk-screened on the back in black letters. I couldn’t believe they spelled the name of their own city wrong on the jumpsuits and I couldn’t believe they took my clothes away before being arraigned or getting a phone call or anything. They even took away my shoes and gave me these tan rubber slipper things they call shower shoes or “slides”. Finally after a few hours they stuck me in this weird-shaped cell with a bunch of Mexicans. I say the room was “weird-shaped” because from what I could gather it appeared to be in the shape of an octagon, with an octagon stainless steel table in the middle and a door in every other wall leading to four branches of cells with a set of bunk beds in each. On one of the walls there was a phone and I tried and tried to reach somebody collect. There’s a block on the house phone that Jerry wisely put there in case one of us decided to get drunk and dial phone sex late at night, but it turns out that same feature also blocks collect calls. I tried Jen’s phone but she likely got called into the Tomato to cover my shift so I wouldn’t get fucking fired because Tan Lard wanted to collect his $20 bonus money for bringing in a wanted fugitive.

I can’t even remember who in the hell I got through to eventually, but I made sure they got a message to the house and to Jenifer to see if I could get bailed out ASAP. Then I sat and waited. The cell was mostly empty and there were only four Mexicans in there with me, none of whom spoke a lick of English. I tried to bullshit with them for a while but they just laughed at my attempts to pantomime and communicate in rough Spanish so that didn’t last long. There was no TV, no clock and nothing to do but wait. I finally picked one of the rooms and got on the top bunk with a blanket and fitfully slept.

Early in the morning the guards came in and pulled me out of bed. One of the fucking Mexicans had taken my shower shoes and hidden them as a prank, so after a bit of bullshit I found them and they hauled us all out like a bright orange brigade to stand in front of the judge. The Mexicans were in there for minor things like disorderly conduct and being drunk. I guess that’s why they stayed up together laughing most of the night. The judge had an interpreter for the Mexicans but to my surprise when they called one of the older guys up in front of the judge he spoke perfect English and explained how he was sorry and that he had given blood last night so the couple of beers he drank got him a lot more wasted than he expected and that he’d learned his lesson and he convinced the judge to let him go with time served. One of the other Mexicans also got let go and the other two got something like fifteen days in jail. When the judge finally got to me, there was a brief consultation about why I was at the City jail with the bailiff and then his old monotone voice croaked out “bail is set at $1,000.” I couldn’t believe it!
$1,000!
I courageously spoke up and told him how the detective had promised to call me so that I could turn myself in and make arrangements with my work schedule. I told him I was probably going to get fired now and by then I was worked up and my voice was tinged with bitterness and sarcasm at their whole system of doing things. The judge just looked at me for a second and then said, in less of a monotone voice this time, “Bail is set at $1,500. Does the defendant have anything else to say for himself?”

“YES! ACTUALLY HE FUCKING DOES, HOW ABOUT I COME OVER TO YOUR HOUSE AND BUGGER YOUR FUCKING WIFE IN THE ASS!”

But I kept my mouth shut after that and when we got back to the cell, the Mexican who spoke English told the other Mexicans what happened to me and they all laughed. He actually turned out not to be so bad of a guy, while he was waiting to be set free we talked for a bit and he said he was getting on a bus and headed the hell out of town. Apparently he was only here to see his mother and he really
had
sold his blood last night, he just failed to mention to the judge that he used the money to buy the beer that got him tossed in the pokey in the first place. He told me I needed to calm down towards these people and try to gauge what they are about before being so vehement. “They are just doing a job. When you lose your cool, the other person has control and when they know they’ve got control and you try to get it back, they’ll fuck you.” He told me “It’s better to stand against the wall and watch everything first, figure out the motivations behind people’s motivations and keep my mouth shut,” then his Mexican Zen-ass got released and I was stuck with the stainless steel table and a growing twingeof sickliness from not having had any smack recently. I get minor withdrawals now when I haven’t used it for a day, nothing too bad but uncomfortable.

I kept trying to call Jenifer and when I got through to her she said she finally had the bail money together and was on the way to the bond person to get me out. She said the bond person was surprised at my bail being $1,500 instead of a thousand and that I must have done something to “piss the judge off.” I never did mention that she got popped a few weeks back with Donut for shoplifting and that I had her bailed out right away. The “man” gave her the kind of cakewalk probation where the charges get expunged from your permanent record if she acts right. Hopefully I’ll get the same thing.

I told Jen I was getting sick and she told me she was planning to drive down to Dallas while they were processing me out of there. It took forever and ever and my stomach was starting to turn by the time I got out in the evening, wearing the same clothes I had tried to go and work in the night before. Jenifer wasn’t there though and I really didn’t know what to do. I walked around for a while and then sat down on the curb and waited to see if she would show up. When she did I could tell by the look in her eyes that she had gotten really fucked up down in Dallas and the time had just kind of floated off for her while I was sitting on the curb spitting green bile and waiting. I told her I needed whatever she promised to get me and she handed me this dull syringe filled with blood.
What the fuck is this?
She had cooked and done most of the shot that was supposed to be for me which was why she was so loopy. I didn’t care, I shot the bullshit into my arm in the hopes it would make me feel just a little better so I could go get some of the real shit.

I mean, what could I say? I was pissed because she knew I was hurting but at the same time, She came up with the bail money and SHE drove down to Dallas and SHE was the one giving me a fucking ride back down to try and score. I was thankful but my stomach was in knots and she kept getting sleepy while driving so I had to grab the wheel a few times.

Eventually after a bunch of bullshit it all worked out and I made it home. Now I have to sort out this mess that’s going on in my life.

I’ve been using the Tomato more and more to support my dope habit since I quit my job at Swensen’s. Jerry was already gone and the red haired manager/ owner there started freaking me out a little since he was going crazy watching his business slowly fail. The demand for good ice cream is on the decline these days. My Thursday and Saturday shifts at the Tomato are critical to me now in order to get enough money to make it most of the way through the week. The rest of the time I’ve been out stealing clothes from J.C. Penny or other places to return to the store for cash or credit.

Damn I want to do right but I am really hooked on this stuff. I can’t even believe it myself when I think about it and I have no idea how it started. No, rephrase that, I have no idea when I started
needing
it. I have no idea when it crossed from a casual occasional hobby to an “I need this to make it through the day” kind of thing. I know better and I can’t fucking help myself, it’s as if I’m outside of my body watching myself do all this crazy shit and getting away with it most of the time.

The other day Donut and I walked right out of Montgomery Wards with a huge stereo system still in the box and even said “hi” to the clerks as we were headed out the door. By the time the stereo was hanging out the back of Jenifer’s hatchback, a security guard was running out the door after us asking to see our receipt. Donut saw him coming while I was still pushing the stereo in the back and he jumped in the car and told Jen to “GO, GO, GO!” Since she thought I was in the car with Donut when he yelled, she took off and left me standing there with two security guards running up behind me.

I’ve learned a couple lessons since my first walk around the shoplifting block. One is to use electrical tape to alter the letters on the car’s license plates so that the numbers and letters look different; another is to run like hell until they actually get the cuffs on you. You still might get away even if you’re wearing Birken-stocks and a big yellow hat. So I tore ass. I kicked off my sandals and ran over the hot gravel and broken glass with one security guard right on my butt while the other one was looking for a radio to call for backup. I’m juking and I’m jiving and the guy is staying close to me when a big gust of wind blew my yellow hat right off my head. I really liked that hat, so I ran through a row of cars, circled back towards the store and grabbed it off the ground, a foot away from his grasp, before he could figure out what I was doing. Then I sprinted towards the highway until I thought my heart would burst, circling as best I could around the mall, trying to stay out of their line of sight. I hit the high way access road and started hustling along with my thumb out, knowing if I didn’t get the hell out ofthere soon the mall’s security or police were quickly going to navigate through the parking lot and pick my ass up.

It just so happened that this girl from my old TV class was driving by and recognized me; she picked me up, asking why I was out of breath and had no shoes. I didn’t have any good answer or lie that I thought she wanted to hear so I talked to her about school and got a ride back to Jen’s apartment behind the house. I waited and waited and waited there for Jenifer to show up and finally she did, her eyes wide with happiness that I got away. She said Donut told her I got busted and she truly thought I was in the car when she drove away, and from the look in her eyes I knew it was the truth. They had gone ahead and went down to Dallas, fenced the stereo and got us some drugs so it was all ok in the end. Just another day at the office. Damn! I’ve got to get out of this shit soon.