The Unlucky Hand
“In a place like this, anything can happen at night,” I
think to myself as the buttery sun melts into the horizon and the city lights
become the night suns. Standing by our usual spot at the rundown convenience
store I look at my companions and wonder whether we’ll go out for trouble
tonight or wait around for it. What am I doing here? It’s not like these people
are my friends. Well I wouldn’t call them friends, more like acquaintances of
convenience. They are my safe keepers, my arms and fists when I need them. Tina
is here tonight too which is unusual because Shane, the leader of our little
grouping, usually keeps his merchandise at home. She’s pretty though, her tight
turtleneck and leather skirt emphasizing the differences between a man and a
woman. I guess Shane felt like parading her, a crown jewel in his little
collection. She’s his to do with as he pleases, without question. None of us
ever interrupt his side work, but that doesn’t mean we don’t look.
I wish I was
more attractive or at least impressive so she would look back. The only thing
that even gives me confidence is the honorary leather jacket that rides on my
back. Shane gave it to me on the 3 month mark of being in his “group”. Guess
this thing is supposed to make me feel badass or tough, and I shift and pull at
the black cloth. Nope, still feel stupid, and my tiny biceps barely fill the
drooping arms, making me realize even more that I’m just a kid trying on grown
up clothes. It’s just like when I was a kid, when my dad left for work and I
would sneak into his room to try on his suits and slip into my potential.
That’s when I believed in my father, when my family lived in a neighborhood
with picket fences and potted flowers. That was before the night my dad said he
was going to be home late when he meant never. Since then my life has become a
domino game, first my mother trying out pills which made her happy, but
apparently didn’t make her boss happy, which meant no job, which meant no
money, which meant my life has dropped into this little world called the slums.
I never really understood that saying “That’s life” until now. It’s the saying
that you use when you have nothing.
I pick at my yellow nails, trying to get the crusty
soil out from underneath, but it seems like even if you are clean, as soon as
you step out into this neighborhood, the air itself will make you dirty again. That’s
when I stopped bothering to stay clean, and not just physically. Luke, the
dangerous one in our little group takes a drag on his smoke and blows it in my
face. He chuckles and I pray those cancer sticks will kill him. He’s never
liked me and he hates that Shane takes an interest in me, because before I was
here he was his personal lapdog. Luke has more scars than a face and his eyes
are so large and black they almost hypnotize you into fear. I always thought he
looked like a cross between a Doberman and an anaconda. Personally I always wanted
a Doberman dog, someone to depend on and yet still be equal with, sort of like
a team. But after I saw the way Luke acted, lashing out even to his owner, I
realized there is no such thing as loyalty, there is just self preservation.
Luke kicks me in the leg hard; obviously bored and wanting to stir something
up. Despite my small frame, I have a tall temper and I rise up, ready to finish
what he started. Luke does the same, pleased he got the reaction he wanted.
“Cool it both of you, or I’ll straighten you out.” Shane’s voice sounds like
ice and we both know he means it. His face turn towards Luke and then me and we
both sit back down, and even through his dark aviator shades I can still feel
his stare.
I wish I was like Shane, subtly powerful and having
that hold over anyone just by looking at them. But most of all I wish I had a
beard like his. It isn’t so much a beard as rough stubble that continues from
his sideburns down his chin. It made him look mature. Authoritative. I waited
all during high school for puberty to kick in, for my chest to fill my shirts,
for a time when I would need to shave, but it never happened. The only thing
that did happen was I shot up like a string bean and my spaghetti strides
widened. I was a regular geek; tall, lanky, and awkward. The kids in my prep
school never let me forget it either. Whatever I didn’t need any of those
jerks, I would take back my life and show them that I was dangerous enough to
take away theirs. That’s what living in here did to you. You became bitter and
angry and the only people you directed it towards were people who had something
you didn’t.
Johnny nudges my arm and passes me the cigarette.
Johnny is Shane’s “bookkeeper”; he does all the dealing and works out all the
things Shane decides. He’s actually really smart; he even used to do AP physics
and math, until one day some idiot made the mistake of calling him a nerd
during class when Johnny had all the answers. Needless to say it took one stab
with a pocket knife to put him in the hospital and Johnny out of school. Just
like me he was dealt a shitty hand, but instead of folding he decided to work
with the cards he was dealt. I suck on the glowing cigarette, my eyes fixated
on the orange embers that advance towards me. I wonder if this is where I’ll be
10 years from now, still sitting in a shitty parking lot store, sucking in my
death and waiting to take out my lost future on some poor lost person. Luke
interrupts my thought as he looks appreciatively up the street and a wicked
smile twitches his lips. “Nice ride,” he comments. I look up too. A sleek
Mercedes Benz is cruising up the alleyway, and it looks as out of place as a gold
watch on a homeless man. My thoughts boil and my anger surfaces to my skin,
because this is car I should have had, the man driving should have been me. I
glare at the man in the driver’s seat only to be surprised that his appearance
does not match the lifestyle. He’s wearing a grey t-shirt over blue jeans and
his face is shadowed with a day’s stubble. Either he’s the owner and hasn’t
been home in awhile, or more likely, he stole it. Down the street, slowly
trailing behind the car is a police cruiser, obviously having the same
thoughts.
“I think this
guy is either lost or stupid. Either way lets relieve him of that toy.” Shane
tells us. Luke eager as ever to do his bidding gets up with Johnny. But I stand
up and hold my arm out, blocking them. “Wait!” I tell them. Shane turns to me his
one eyebrow raised over his glasses. “Let’s let this one play out.” I say
straight at him, never letting my eyes waver. “Listen to him Shane.” Tina says,
and looks at me directly like she understands. Shane looks back and forth
between me, Tina, the car, and the upcoming cruiser and it sinks in. He waves
his hands to the guys to signal them to sit back down. Luke looks like a dog
that’s just been told he can’t go out for his walk anymore. We all freeze and
wait. The man parks his car by the curve and his eyes dart between us and the
door of the store. He gets out and heads
towards the entrance, oblivious to his situation no doubt. The police man gets
out as well; a pistol shaking in his hands as he nervously advances. Maybe this
could get interesting.
“Hold it right there! Turn around and put your hands
up.” The officer calls from a few feet away towards the man. The officer
positions himself in a classic cop stance and holds his gun straight at him,
although his hold is unsteady. The man turns slowly around and oddly enough
when he sees the cop, looks relieved. That’s when what I thought would happen
and what was happening meshed together as the man reached in his back pocket
for his wallet and skittish hand of the cop became steady as the trigger was
pulled. And just like the unpredictability of my life, this man who ever he
was, was dealt the unlucky hand.
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