Part 4

That Day:


I lean back in my seat and take a deep breath.” Dana was driving down interstate sixty five. He was headed to work at Wall-Mart, probably running late as usual. It was dark and late; the interstate was almost deserted. Chris said that he was fucking this girl in his bed, she was hot as hell. She had this sexy little tramp stamp tattoo of a skull and crossbones with the word princess underneath. We will talk more about her later”.
I pause to light up another smoke. “Chris said he was pounding away at this girl when his phone started ringing. Of course he didn’t stop; he was on the home stretch. Chris was about to finish when his answering machine picked up. After whatever rude greeting he had recorded for the week was over, he heard Dana singing his heart out to ‘Valentine’ by Martina McBride. Chris immediately went limp. The girl asked him what was wrong. He told her that he couldn’t fuck her while Dana was singing to him.
“C’mon baby, finish,” the hottie begged as she rolled over into a new and more inviting position. “I said no, bitch!” “You are a fucking asshole,” she yelled as she put her underwear back on, she opted to stay topless. “Again, not the first time I have heard this. Why don’t you think of something that can hurt my feelings while I call dip-shit back.”
The hottie rolled over on her stomach and fell asleep on top of the covers and Chris picked up the phone to call Dana back.
Dana is still driving down the same stretch of interstate when he hears his cell phone ring. “Hello?” “Why do you refuse to lock the keypad on your fucking phone?” I can see Dana’s face turning beet red and his eyes watering. “Did I call you?” Dana asked. “Yeah Valentine, you did,” Chris accused. “Shit, man I am sorry, did I interrupt something?” Chris looks down at the girl’s ass and gives it a slap; she jumps a little and drifts off to sleep again. “Yeah, something like that. Dude, just start locking your phone.” “Sorry, man. Talk to you later.” I know Dana put his cell phone back in his pocket without locking it, that was Dana. His mind was never worried about things like that. He never worried about himself at all.
“Hey, can I get another cup?” I hold out my empty Styrofoam cup and the orderly rolls his eyes as he takes it to get a refill for me. “Ah, where was I? Oh yeah, Dana was close to work when he saw a broken down vehicle on the side of the road with its flashers on. Knowing Dana, he pulled over right away without taking anything else into consideration. Chris had woken the girl up for another round, and was about to finish again. I can hear him curse God when his phone rang again, only this time it wasn’t Dana singing. God knows we all wish it was Dana singing, but it wasn’t. It was Dana crying, begging for his life. Chris said all he heard was Dana saying “, shit man, I’m not ready to die!” and another voice say “, goodbye, Dana.”
“so the killer knew his name?” Josh asked me, leaning forward and hanging on to every word I spoke like a kid listening to a Christmas story. “Don’t jump ahead, dick head. That didn’t mean shit to us. Dana didn’t meet a stranger; everyone knew his name within seconds of meeting him. Anyway, the last thing Chris heard as he was already dressed and headed out the door was the gunshot. I hated that for Chris, having to be the only one to hear the fatal boom. Well, the girl heard it but she didn’t know Dana very well. Chris was the first on the scene. He was Dana’s roommate. He knew Dana’s way to work and he sped down the interstate until he saw Dana’s car. He called Aaron on his way, because Aaron lived the closest to Wall-Mart, but Chris beat Aaron there. Aaron said that when he got to Dana’s car, Chris was sitting on the shoulder of the road cradling Dana’s head in his lap and crying. That was Chris and Dana’s love-hate relationship; we will get to that later.”

Part 3 of Rock N' Roll Freedom

Present Day

                Sitting at a table in the meeting room, I sip coffee from a Styrofoam cup, God I miss Starbucks. The coffee here is piss. At least I get to relax with a cigarette. How does the worst habit in the world feel so good? I don’t think I will ever quit, I love smoking too much. The orderly escorts a young man in and introduces him as Josh Prichard. This guy is dressed in an obviously over priced suit. He was too well groomed to be straight. He smiles and sits across the table from me, pulling a small tape recorder out of the breast pocket of his clown suit and setting his briefcase on the table next to him.

                Josh looks at me and smiles “, no cuffs or shackles?” “Nah, I’ve been a good boy this week,” I reply and continue “, the orderly is watching from the back of the room if you are that uncomfortable.” “No, no I’m fine. It was just an observation.” “Very observant,” I sarcastically reply. “Yeah, investigative reporter at your service,” Josh says just as sarcastically. We both laugh and give a small chuckle. Josh reaches out to shake my hand. I grab his and our eyes lock for a brief moment. I smile and let my grip go.

                “Investigative reporter turned would-be bestselling author, right?” I accuse. “If everything goes as planned, then yes.” “You are pretty used to that, things going your way,” I sit back and drag on my cigarette. “What do you mean?” he asks me. “Never mind, I’m just saying it isn’t every day that the breaking story of your career falls into your lap by coincidence. It’s pretty remarkable if you ask me,” I’m speaking now with smoke billowing out with every word. It’s kind of rude, but I don’t give a fuck. “I suppose it is remarkable,” Josh says as he takes his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up for himself. “Look, Michael, whatever it seems to be, I am just trying to win with the great hand that was dealt to me. It would appear very ungrateful of me if I didn’t at least try. Besides, this story may touch someone and change their life. Isn’t that worth more than anything?” Good, he was being rude too, billowing his smoke as he spoke. “Good then, that was all I needed to know,” I smiled and sipped my coffee.

                “May I start recording now?” Josh asks me. “Sure, why not,” I relaxed, leaning back in my chair. Josh checks the tape in the recorder and presses record. “Okay, let’s begin with ‘that day’. What do you know about it?” I close my eyes. This is going to be painful. It’s not like I don’t think about it every day, so it shouldn’t hurt so bad to talk about it; but it does.

Part 2 of Rock N Roll Freedom

The Bar

One year ago

We were in our favorite bar, T.D.’s, trying to get our drink on. There was this poser punk band playing on the stage. I have no idea why T.D. hired these losers. He is usually better at finding talent for his bar. I mean they were sucking ass more than we did when we first started playing. We were all watching and listening in agony when Ryan decided to take ice cubes from his gen and tonic and hurl them at the lead singer. He was a good shot because every cube hit this poor boy in the face.  Ryan would shout repeatedly “, you suck! Get off the fucking stage!” The horrible musicians in this band were troopers, I have to give them that much. They continued to struggle through their set despite the ridicule.

I remember hearing the clank sound through the speakers as the last ice cube hit the lead singer’s front tooth near the microphone. We all laughed hysterically and the singer flipped Ryan off. This was exactly what Ryan was waiting for. He smiled and rushed the stage. Ryan grabbed the singer’s pants legs and yanked him off of the stage. The poor guy cracked his head on the edge of the stage on his way down. The other three band members rushed Ryan and began to beat the shit out of him as Ryan kept laughing. I remember screaming “, let’s kick some ass!” Jeremy yelled “c’mon mother fuckers!” Aaron and Chris rushed with us to the fight. Dana hung back in his seat as usual, he wasn’t much for violence.

On the way to the fight, Chris’s eye was caught by a hottie that had been watching him all night. He opted not to fight and disappeared with her out the back door.

T.D. jumped up on the stage and yelled in the microphone “, break it up, assholes, or I’m gonna call the cops”. We quickly stopped fighting and returned to our beer to regroup. The band went back to the stage to start packing up their instruments.

“That was awesome!” Jeremy laughed.  “Where the hell is Chris?” Aaron asked, nearly out of breath.

Chris and the hottie were behind the bar. Her hands were pressed firmly against the dumpster as Chris fucked her from behind. You could almost hear her scream in ecstasy from inside the bar “ah, ah, yes, yes, give it to me, daddy!” I can imagine the sexy tattoo of skull and crossbones with the word princess underneath jerk up and down as Chris piled into her. Chris was fully clothed with only his zipper unzipped.

“Thanks, bitch,” Chris said as he pulled out. He slapped her on her naked ass and picked up her panties to wipe himself clean. After he was satisfied with his dryness he threw the underwear back at the poor girl.

“You’re an asshole!” Chris laughed “; I get that all the time.” He laughs again and walks back into the bar, leaving her to dress alone in the dark alley.

We were finishing our beer as Chris walked up. “Where the hell were you?” I asked, although I knew the answer. “Yeah man, you missed a kick ass fight. Those guys were a bunch of pussies.” Aaron added. “I was fighting a pussy too, behind the bar,” Chris smiled as he smarted back.  Let’s get out of here, I have to work tomorrow,” Chris continued. Dana laughed “, you don’t work.” “Shut up, bitch,” Chris gave Dana the usual slap to the back of his head.

We left the bar and started down the crowded downtown street. We separated one-by-one as we reached our vehicles. Dana was the last one to leave me. I remember that he seemed to fade away as he made his way through the crowd, although I never thought much of it until now.

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Part 1

Us

     

Eight Years Ago:

“You know that if the sun dries the eggs on these cars, the paint will ruin!” Dana always tried to keep the punks in line, and he always failed. They were not all punks. Chris (the asshole), Jeremy, and Ryan were, But Michael and Aaron were metal heads. It’s funny how subcultures are sometimes defined by what style of rock and roll they follow. This just goes to show how important good music is in America.

      In any case, The Punks hurled eggs at the cars that were parked in a wealthy sub-division north of Mobile Alabama. Chris leans out the passenger side window and smashes one right on the hood of Dana’s car. “You better wash this one off tonight, hahahaha!”  The rest of the group laughs along with him.

      There was not much more to do in this town for a group of young punks who were too old to be in bed, but too young to get into the night clubs that they would rather be in.

      Michael, Aaron, Jeremy, and Ryan were packed into the back of Dana’s small car; Chris rode shotgun, as always. They had boosted several boxes of eggs from the grocery store an hour earlier.

      “You are an asshole, Chris!” Dana yelled as he exited the sub-division. “Yeah, I know. People keep telling me.” The other four laugh as Dana drives onto the main highway.

      When you find good friends like this, you know that you have done something right. You feel a sense of security, like an epiphany that you will never be alone again your whole life. This kind of stuff is forever.

      Dana passes a police car that is parked on the side of the road. “Shit! Chris is in the car!” Michael complains and Chris turns around to smack him. “You say that like I am a convict or something.” Chris defends himself and Michael snaps back quickly “, No, I say that like you attract the cops everywhere we go.” Chris flips Michael off. Michael laughs and says “, I’ve got five dollars that says we see blue lights in less than a minute.” “You’re on,” Chris challenges him. “I’m keeping time,” Jeremy, the brainiac offers his services.

      Everyone in the car is silent and still, until Dana can’t fight the urge to turn around to see behind him. “Don’t look back, you fucktard!”  Chris smacks Dana on the back of the head. Seven seconds later, blue lights start flickering throughout the inside of Dana’s car. Jeremy blurts out “, thirty five pint five seconds!”

      “Damn!” Chris concedes as he hands Michael five dollars. “Stash those eggs, fast!” Dana screams as he nearly shits his pants. “Where the fuck am I going to stash seven boxes of eggs?” Ryan asks through a sarcastic voice. “Shit,” Dana replied, nearly in tears.

      Dana pulls over into a closed gas station parking lot. They all sit quiet and still as they wait for the cop to approach the vehicle. “The officer is obviously waiting for backup, due to the number of people in the vehicle,” Jeremy says, being the usual brainiac. “Shut the fuck up,” everyone else replies in unison. Seconds later, two more patrol cars pull up and the first cop exits his vehicle and begins to swagger toward Dana’s car.

      This is a fairly young cop, in his late twenties. He looks very clean-cut and by-the-book. He reaches Dana’s window and raps twice on it with his flashlight. Dana complies and rolls his window down.

      The officer greets the punks with his deep Alabama accent. “Mornin’ boys, y’all out kinda late ain’t ya?”

      Even though everyone in the vehicle is from Alabama, and most of their family members speak this way, this Alabama draw never ceases to provoke tear jerking laughter from them. They suppress their laughter as long as they can, that is until Chris opens his smart ass mouth. “Actually, we’re up kind of early, officer. It’s three thirty in the morning.” The officer rolls his eyes at Chris and says “, Well, are y’all headed to the house, or what?”

      Now, all of the punks in the car are from Alabama, and they know the geographical vernacular just fine. Not one of them have any trouble understanding Alabamian, but Chris can’t help himself.

      “What house would you be referring to, sir?” Chris smarted back to the cop. “I don’t know where ‘the house’ is.” “Now do you see why cops don’t like you, dumbass?” Michael whispered to Chris.

       The officer laughs for a moment, then opens Dana’s door for him. “Step out boys, line up against the vehicle. I’m sure this ain’t your first fuckin’ rodeo.” And it wasn’t.

      The boys pile out of Dana’s car and line up against it, all smiles and giggles. “Boys, my name is Officer Weaver. I’m new to Mobile, but I ain’t new to being a cop. I certainly ain’t new to young, smart ass kids like yourselves,” Officer Weaver introduces himself to the motley crew.

      One of the other officers frisks the boys one by one. Officer Weaver watches from the other side of the car and laughs when Michael makes sex faces when it is his turn.

      Weaver looks through Dana’s car with a flashlight and shakes his head when he spots the cartons of eggs in the backseat floor board.

      “What are the eggs for, boys?” Weaver asks. “That’s why we are up so early, we wanted some breakfast,” Chris spoke out.

      Weaver looks at the punk rocker. Chris’s Mohawk stands six inches high and is colored read and blue. His black leather jacket sports stainless steel spikes on the shoulders.

      “I like you boys. I don’t have a problem with you,” Weaver changes his tone from friendly to serious. “Please do yourselves a favor and convince your spiky headed friend here to shut the fuck up.” Aaron whispers loudly in Chris’s direction “, shut the fuck up!” “ Fuck you guys!” Chris whispers back in his own defense.

      Chris smiles at Officer Weaver and the cop continues, “I’ll let you boys in on a little secret. I don’t care too much for these rich fuckers either. Hell, I don’t even give a shit if you boys throw eggs at their cars. At least it’s keepin’ you boys out of real trouble, drugs and what not. Just do me a favor and give it a rest for a few days.”

      “Thank you, officer! We’ll give it a rest, we promise,” Dana proclaims. “Yeah thanks, sir,” Michael adds. Chris gives Weaver a large, devious smile. Officer Weaver shakes his head and continues “; if someone else pulls you over for this, don’t tell them I said that it was okay. I’ll deny every word. Good night, boys”

      The young cop gets back in his patrol car, as do the other officers, and drives off. Chris gives Dana a quick slap to the back of the head. “Are you ready to go home, pussies?” Chris belts out. “Fuck you, Chris,” Dana snaps back. The young punks pile back into Dana’s car and drive off.

      “That was a pretty nice cop, he didn’t yell at us or anything,” Dana notes. “Yeah, he was alright I guess,” Jeremy agrees. “Hey! Turn on some fucking music!” That is Chris’s way of saying please.

      Dana reaches down and turns the radio on as Michael leans against the back seat window next to him to sleep.

Present Day:

      A dim, fluorescent light beams through the small window in the steel door that locks Michael in his cell. Michael is sleeping soundly in his small bed. The lights in his cell turn on abruptly. Michael’s eyes shoot open as he hears an orderly’s voice call out, “breakfast in fifteen minutes.”

      Michael eases out of bed and walks to the plastic mirror that is glued to the wall above his stainless steel sink. Michael washes his face and brushes his teeth. When he is finished, he rests his hands on the sides of the sink and stares blankly into the mirror.

      ‘There is a time in a young man’s life when he comes to a crossroads. There, at these crossroads, he must make a decision. Should I? Should I not? What will the consequences be? How many people will this one decision affect? One year ago today, I stumbled upon my crossroads. I asked myself those questions. I looked both ways and said “, what the hell.” My name is Michael White. I will be telling this story from here on out. After all, this is my fucking story. My story is one of love, loss, blood, and sex. So sit back, shut the hell up, enjoy, and don’t fucking interrupt me!”

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