Paris lay passed out in my parlor. The "Hands" had temporarily rid
her of her pressing stress and gave me a chance to talk to Kiki in peace. Kiki's almond
shaped eyes were hard and clinical as she told me about the past few days adventures with
Paris.
I had seen Paris angry a few times I can only imagine how bad was when it was when
she was on a stem fueled tirade. Kiki filled me in on the withdrawal Paris had
weathered. She was trying to quit.
"I knew she liked to party," I said leaning against my sink, "and I
knew things could get a little crazy but this is out of hand."
I could hear the judgment in my voice but I didn't care.
"What the hell happened? What pushed her over the edge?" There was a
small part of me that burned for a cigarette but I knew better. I couldn't scream at
someone for battling with their addiction and then turn around and indulge my own. Even
the judge needs a jury.
"There was no one thing," Kiki answered staring at Paris's naked sleeping
body. "It was like the entire world crashed down on her in a matter of two days;
her latest boyfriend went hard core psycho on her, she goes home to find that her father
has had a heart attack, and two days after she gets him in the hospital she totals her
BMW. It's just been a great world of shit for her."
"Well at least she's looking fit." I said sarcastically noticing her ribs.
"What's the name of that new diet Stem Fast? Slim Crack?"
Kiki just looked at me and shook her head. She had seen rock bottom herself and
made the crawl up from hell and now she was watching her best friend crash and burn. I
had hit a little close to home.
“I’m just worried,” she started, “that she’s gone to far. I don’t know if she’ll…”
I knew the pain that Paris protected. She held it as dear as some hold their sick
children or dying parents. I knew because I held it just as tight. We were too
narcissistic to destroy ourselves but just selfish enough to get as close to the edge as
possible. If she really wanted this to end my phone never would have rang this morning.
“Don’t you worry about her. She’ll get through this. This was her way of making
sure that we care, selfish bitch! She’s too proud to ask for help. If she really wanted
to end it she never would have called either of us.” I said out loud.
“You know what’s going to happen to her? She’s going to find some great guy who
knows nothing about her and he’s going to sweep her off her feet because he’s head over
heels in love. She’s going to tell him everything and I mean everything, and he’ll want
to protect her. For a few years all will be right with the world. You and I will just
sit here scratching our heads trying to figure out what the fuck just happened and life
will go on.” I thought back to Caitlin.
I could hear the judgment in my voice but I just didn’t care. There are no clean
happy endings. For the moment there was just Paris passed out in my parlor.
That Beautiful Black Man
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Monday, March 31, 2014
80 - Rock Bottom (Part 3)
I watched in horror as Paris nodded off in Kiki's passenger seat. I stepped
away from the car and backed into the brick wall. I looked over at Kiki and then back to
Paris. I shook my head and walked passed Kiki to my apartment. I was in shock. All of
my worst fears and all of vicious rumors seemed to be coming true.
"I can't believe it," I said to myself. "I just can't fuckin' believe it."
Kiki followed me into the apartment. I just sat on my couch and stared at the blank
TV screen.
"She needs your hands," she said leaning in the doorway. "I'm trying
to get her into a facility but I'm still waiting to hear back from somebody. I..."
Her voice trailed off into thin air.
'The Hands' were a nickname I had been given recently because every time I went to a
party I either ended up playing music or giving massages. I could always be found in a
corner with some woman draped over my shoulders listening to a song or getting her back
rubbed.
I figured Paris didn't need to hear a new version of an old Hendrix song so I began
preparing the cleansing. I walked into the kitchen to check on the pot of hot water for
tea. I set up the massage table in the living room and programmed the Chopin CD.
There was a tinge of bitterness in my system. I thought of Paris sitting in the car
on a path of total self destruction. I hoped that this was rock bottom and she could
start moving back up from her self imposed torture.
Then I thought about my Dad; a man who never drank, never smoked, and never did
drugs. I thought of him trapped in the prison of his own body and realized the irony was
lost on me alone. I was helping a person who wanted to destroy herself get better and
the person was struggling to get better was being destroyed by his own body. I wanted to
put a chair through a wall.
'If she died,' I thought to myself, 'would that balance out the universe and give
him more time?' I shook off the thought. You help who you can when you can and maybe if
you're lucky karma helps you.
The whistling hot water brought me back to my senses. I poured a cup of cleansing
tea. It was tea my father would drink when he first got sick to keep his strength up. I
turned up the heat in the apartment to make the massage more comfortable.
I opened the door to get Paris.
"Be careful," said Kiki putting her hand on my shoulder. "She's been
ruthless. She ripped into me about how I used to strip and how I raise my kids
and..."
"About your what? How you raise your what? Kids?!?" I stammered
emphasizing the s in kids. I looked her up and down. She couldn't be bigger than a size
two. She was maybe 100 lbs soaking wet holding a brick.
"I didn't know you had kids. How old are they?" I asked a bit
bewildered. I pictured cute little Eurasian toddlers running around her little paradise
in the woods when they weren't spending weekends with their father.
"Sixteen and seventeen," she said proudly. My eyebrows must have touched
the 9 foot ceilings. "They're my babies."
I thought back to the kiss in her house and rested my head in the door jam. It
struck me that I was older than she was.
"You don't look old enough to have a two year old."
"Thank you," She said as we walked to the car.
"Here's the plan," I said leaning with my back against the brick.
"I'm the man with the hands." I stepped away from the wall and towards the
car. I looked over at Kiki and then back to Paris. You help who you can when you can
and maybe if you're lucky karma helps you.
That Beautiful Black Man
away from the car and backed into the brick wall. I looked over at Kiki and then back to
Paris. I shook my head and walked passed Kiki to my apartment. I was in shock. All of
my worst fears and all of vicious rumors seemed to be coming true.
"I can't believe it," I said to myself. "I just can't fuckin' believe it."
Kiki followed me into the apartment. I just sat on my couch and stared at the blank
TV screen.
"She needs your hands," she said leaning in the doorway. "I'm trying
to get her into a facility but I'm still waiting to hear back from somebody. I..."
Her voice trailed off into thin air.
'The Hands' were a nickname I had been given recently because every time I went to a
party I either ended up playing music or giving massages. I could always be found in a
corner with some woman draped over my shoulders listening to a song or getting her back
rubbed.
I figured Paris didn't need to hear a new version of an old Hendrix song so I began
preparing the cleansing. I walked into the kitchen to check on the pot of hot water for
tea. I set up the massage table in the living room and programmed the Chopin CD.
There was a tinge of bitterness in my system. I thought of Paris sitting in the car
on a path of total self destruction. I hoped that this was rock bottom and she could
start moving back up from her self imposed torture.
Then I thought about my Dad; a man who never drank, never smoked, and never did
drugs. I thought of him trapped in the prison of his own body and realized the irony was
lost on me alone. I was helping a person who wanted to destroy herself get better and
the person was struggling to get better was being destroyed by his own body. I wanted to
put a chair through a wall.
'If she died,' I thought to myself, 'would that balance out the universe and give
him more time?' I shook off the thought. You help who you can when you can and maybe if
you're lucky karma helps you.
The whistling hot water brought me back to my senses. I poured a cup of cleansing
tea. It was tea my father would drink when he first got sick to keep his strength up. I
turned up the heat in the apartment to make the massage more comfortable.
I opened the door to get Paris.
"Be careful," said Kiki putting her hand on my shoulder. "She's been
ruthless. She ripped into me about how I used to strip and how I raise my kids
and..."
"About your what? How you raise your what? Kids?!?" I stammered
emphasizing the s in kids. I looked her up and down. She couldn't be bigger than a size
two. She was maybe 100 lbs soaking wet holding a brick.
"I didn't know you had kids. How old are they?" I asked a bit
bewildered. I pictured cute little Eurasian toddlers running around her little paradise
in the woods when they weren't spending weekends with their father.
"Sixteen and seventeen," she said proudly. My eyebrows must have touched
the 9 foot ceilings. "They're my babies."
I thought back to the kiss in her house and rested my head in the door jam. It
struck me that I was older than she was.
"You don't look old enough to have a two year old."
"Thank you," She said as we walked to the car.
"Here's the plan," I said leaning with my back against the brick.
"I'm the man with the hands." I stepped away from the wall and towards the
car. I looked over at Kiki and then back to Paris. You help who you can when you can
and maybe if you're lucky karma helps you.
That Beautiful Black Man
Friday, March 28, 2014
79 - Rock Bottom (Part 2)
The phone sounded like a chainsaw ripping into my skull as it vibrated on the
wooden end table near the couch. I found myself falling asleep on the couch more and
more. Even though the bedroom is just up the stairs I had this feeling that if I was
closer to the door when something happened to my father I would be able to get there
faster and possibly prevent it.
“Are you home?” asked Kiki’s voice.
“Yeah,” I said hoping she had come to her senses or better yet, lost them
completely.
“What’s going on?” I was going to follow Derich’s advice and just let things go. I
had visions of booty call running through my head.
“It’s Paris. She’s smashed up her BMW. It’s totaled.” She said bluntly.
“Is she all right?!?” I asked feeling the ice pump through my veins. My heart
jumped into my throat. It was a long time coming and I didn’t want it to end like this.
“She’s with me. She has a little burn from the airbag but …which house are you?”
“What?!?”
“Which house are you? I have her with me. She’s been trying to give me directions
but she keeps nodding. I don’t know where else I can go right now.” There was a hint of
desperation in her voice.
“You hit the fork, bang a left and look for the first brick house on the left. Turn
into the first driveway. Knock on the first door. Look she’s probably nodding because
of the meds.” I said sounding a little bit annoyed.
“The accident happened about a week ago. She’s been on a bender. It’s bad, really
bad.”
I thought back to the 6:30 phone call. Why didn’t the phone wake me up then like it
did this time? Whose car door was dinging in the back ground? How bad was she? I
hadn’t seen Paris in almost three months. Every time we did talk on the phone the
conversations were just a bit off.
I was worried but I did the same thing I did when my oldest brother was coming to my
house, I hid all of the credit cards and anything with an application; music club, DVD,
magazines, you name it. When my brother had his nasty bout with drugs a few years ago he
took little things like this from my Dad and opened some BS accounts so he could get
something to sell. He called it fast money. We are still getting calls from credit
companies attempting to collect on his debts.
I heard the little Honda pull into my driveway. I opened the front door and walked
back to the kitchen to boil water. I figured green tea would help purge her system.
“Hey,” said Kiki through the screen door.
“Come on in,” I said just loud enough for her to hear me. “I’m making tea.”
“I’m sorry to do this so early on a holiday but I didn’t know where else to go.”
“That’s fine. I didn’t have any plans for the day anyway. Where’s your girl?” I
said putting the teapot on the stove.
“She’s in the car. I need a hand getting her in the house.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I jested, tossing my hand in the air in dismissal. There
was a part of me that was in denial.
She was pulling the hood of her pink sweatshirt back as I got to the window. Her
once full hair was now matted and stringy. Here blue eyes were surrounded by red moats
of bloodshot. Her dry, blotchy, skin made her gaunt face look even thinner.
“Hey, baby,” she rattled with her newly husky voice. “You miss me?” She registered
my shock and started laughing. I normally love her laughter but today it sounded like a
chainsaw ripping into my skull.
That Beautiful Black Man
wooden end table near the couch. I found myself falling asleep on the couch more and
more. Even though the bedroom is just up the stairs I had this feeling that if I was
closer to the door when something happened to my father I would be able to get there
faster and possibly prevent it.
“Are you home?” asked Kiki’s voice.
“Yeah,” I said hoping she had come to her senses or better yet, lost them
completely.
“What’s going on?” I was going to follow Derich’s advice and just let things go. I
had visions of booty call running through my head.
“It’s Paris. She’s smashed up her BMW. It’s totaled.” She said bluntly.
“Is she all right?!?” I asked feeling the ice pump through my veins. My heart
jumped into my throat. It was a long time coming and I didn’t want it to end like this.
“She’s with me. She has a little burn from the airbag but …which house are you?”
“What?!?”
“Which house are you? I have her with me. She’s been trying to give me directions
but she keeps nodding. I don’t know where else I can go right now.” There was a hint of
desperation in her voice.
“You hit the fork, bang a left and look for the first brick house on the left. Turn
into the first driveway. Knock on the first door. Look she’s probably nodding because
of the meds.” I said sounding a little bit annoyed.
“The accident happened about a week ago. She’s been on a bender. It’s bad, really
bad.”
I thought back to the 6:30 phone call. Why didn’t the phone wake me up then like it
did this time? Whose car door was dinging in the back ground? How bad was she? I
hadn’t seen Paris in almost three months. Every time we did talk on the phone the
conversations were just a bit off.
I was worried but I did the same thing I did when my oldest brother was coming to my
house, I hid all of the credit cards and anything with an application; music club, DVD,
magazines, you name it. When my brother had his nasty bout with drugs a few years ago he
took little things like this from my Dad and opened some BS accounts so he could get
something to sell. He called it fast money. We are still getting calls from credit
companies attempting to collect on his debts.
I heard the little Honda pull into my driveway. I opened the front door and walked
back to the kitchen to boil water. I figured green tea would help purge her system.
“Hey,” said Kiki through the screen door.
“Come on in,” I said just loud enough for her to hear me. “I’m making tea.”
“I’m sorry to do this so early on a holiday but I didn’t know where else to go.”
“That’s fine. I didn’t have any plans for the day anyway. Where’s your girl?” I
said putting the teapot on the stove.
“She’s in the car. I need a hand getting her in the house.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I jested, tossing my hand in the air in dismissal. There
was a part of me that was in denial.
She was pulling the hood of her pink sweatshirt back as I got to the window. Her
once full hair was now matted and stringy. Here blue eyes were surrounded by red moats
of bloodshot. Her dry, blotchy, skin made her gaunt face look even thinner.
“Hey, baby,” she rattled with her newly husky voice. “You miss me?” She registered
my shock and started laughing. I normally love her laughter but today it sounded like a
chainsaw ripping into my skull.
That Beautiful Black Man
Thursday, March 27, 2014
78 - Rock Bottom
I woke up at 9:30 am to a message on my cell phone. I was up late surfing the
web and watching season three of some show on DVD so I didn’t hear the phone vibrate at
6:30 in the morning.
“Hey…it’s Paris,” said the husky, burnt out voice on my voicemail. I hadn’t
officially talked to her in almost three months. I would send her a text message once a
week asking if she were dead. Her usual response was ‘Fuck you’.
She called a week ago to hang out with Kiki but once again she was a no show, no
call.
“It’s all fucked up…all fucked up.” I could hear the car door dinging in the
background. “Call me back…later…”she whispered. I hear her fumble with the phone and
then finally hang it up.
I used to get calls like this from Caitlin years ago so I knew how to block it out.
Unlike Caitlin Paris was a friend of mine so I gave her a bit more leeway. She always
seemed to pull herself out of the gutter before but this was different.
Since her last break up she had dipped deeper into the cocaine. Her responses
weren’t witty or quick they were sluggish and predictable. From what I heard her once
stunning appearance had dulled. She had been blowing off her long term friends more and
more for a ‘newer, more with it’ crew. Her priorities had changed and not for the better.
I suspected and had heard rumors of the glass pipe but I didn’t want to believe it.
My Dad was in the final stages of cancer, I was back at a corporate job working
twelve hours a day with an hour fifteen minute commute each way, and I was trying not to
fall apart at the seams so my plate was full.
I was waiting for her to hit rock bottom. Once she hit rock bottom we could begin.
The purgatory of her painful past would catch up with her. At first Kiki and I tried to
slow the fall but there was always some young boy toy that she would disappear with for a
weekend bender. She had to want the change but the new sycophants around her let her
continue to think everything was all right. I had written her off for dead two or three
times already.
I called her cell phone and it went straight to voicemail.
“What’s up, it’s me. Give me a call.” I hung up the phone and went back to sleep.
It was a long weekend. Any time I had a chance to sleep late on a Monday I took it. From
the sound of her voice her response would have been ‘Fuck you’ anyway.
That Beautiful Black Man
web and watching season three of some show on DVD so I didn’t hear the phone vibrate at
6:30 in the morning.
“Hey…it’s Paris,” said the husky, burnt out voice on my voicemail. I hadn’t
officially talked to her in almost three months. I would send her a text message once a
week asking if she were dead. Her usual response was ‘Fuck you’.
She called a week ago to hang out with Kiki but once again she was a no show, no
call.
“It’s all fucked up…all fucked up.” I could hear the car door dinging in the
background. “Call me back…later…”she whispered. I hear her fumble with the phone and
then finally hang it up.
I used to get calls like this from Caitlin years ago so I knew how to block it out.
Unlike Caitlin Paris was a friend of mine so I gave her a bit more leeway. She always
seemed to pull herself out of the gutter before but this was different.
Since her last break up she had dipped deeper into the cocaine. Her responses
weren’t witty or quick they were sluggish and predictable. From what I heard her once
stunning appearance had dulled. She had been blowing off her long term friends more and
more for a ‘newer, more with it’ crew. Her priorities had changed and not for the better.
I suspected and had heard rumors of the glass pipe but I didn’t want to believe it.
My Dad was in the final stages of cancer, I was back at a corporate job working
twelve hours a day with an hour fifteen minute commute each way, and I was trying not to
fall apart at the seams so my plate was full.
I was waiting for her to hit rock bottom. Once she hit rock bottom we could begin.
The purgatory of her painful past would catch up with her. At first Kiki and I tried to
slow the fall but there was always some young boy toy that she would disappear with for a
weekend bender. She had to want the change but the new sycophants around her let her
continue to think everything was all right. I had written her off for dead two or three
times already.
I called her cell phone and it went straight to voicemail.
“What’s up, it’s me. Give me a call.” I hung up the phone and went back to sleep.
It was a long weekend. Any time I had a chance to sleep late on a Monday I took it. From
the sound of her voice her response would have been ‘Fuck you’ anyway.
That Beautiful Black Man
Monday, March 10, 2014
65 - American Dream 2.0
I dropped the last of my American Spirit into the cigarette stand right before I stepped into the Palace. I saw Paris's car parked outside so I thought I would stop in to see if she was having dinner with one of her sheep. She was sitting alone. Her white overcoat was right next to her. She was wearing a white turtleneck, jeans, and her white Eskimo boots. Her hair was up.
I usually avoided the Palace because it was right next to my former employer. I didn't think there would be an issue because it was after seven and I knew they were closed.
I ordered a plain chicken breast and a diet coke to be delivered to the table.
"May I offer you a drink," she said as I slid into the seat across from her. "Possibly a COCK-tail?!?" She exploded in laughter.
I just hung my head and shook it. "I see you talked to Linda."
"Oh yes, yes I did! Now that's funny. That's really funny. You were worried about being judged on Hotornot? Ha! Ha! Ha!" She continued to laugh out loud.
"That's what I love about you Paris, you are always a sympathetic ear." I rested my head in my hands.
"Stupid bastard. See, you should have let me take the pictures."
"The last time I saw you was at Kiki's house. Do you have a camera with you now? I know I don't. Our schedules never seem to click."
"You and your goddamn particulars. Why did you even do it in the first place?" She asked sipping on her beer.
"Did you order yet?" I asked her trying to change the subject.
"Of course I did. What do you want?"
"I have a chicken breast and a diet coke coming."
"You're still eating well. And you've kept the weight off, good boy."
"I have to stay in shape if I want the plan to come together." I said twisting from side to side.
"What plan is that? The online dating plan?" She snickered.
"No, no, no. That's more of an experiment to see if I've become a viable property. If I happen to hook up in the process then so be it. I actually put an add up on Yahoo just to see if I get any legitimate hits. Living around here sucks. Every personal I look at wants doughy white guys. That's not me."
"What do you mean?" She said feigning shock. "You're not white?!?"
"Kiss my ass." I said as the arrived with our food.
"So what's this big plan?" She asked digging into her Greek salad.
"I'm expanding on the American Dream. I've had the 'good' corporate job - that I hated, I own a European car, I've had some money in the bank, not so much anymore but I've had it. I've called my bosses morons, told them they can go stick that 'good' corporate job in their ass, and now I spend my days doing what I love. Yes, I'm in debt but who isn't?"
The light from the ceiling caught her eyes just right. For a second I was lost in their reflection. They glimmered like finely crafted Waterford Crystal.
"And what do you have to show for all of this?" She asked looking through the finely crafted crystal.
"More quality time with you, pretty girl!" I smiled like a fifteen year old school girl telling her friends she had been asked to the senior prom.
"Asshole."
"Seriously, it's the American Dream 2.0, kid. I'm trying to live on my own terms."
"Here's a toast," she said raising her beer into the light. "To the American Dream 2.0"
"Here, here!"
"Is that diet coke going to be strong enough? Might I suggest, perhaps, a COCK-tail?!?"
"Fuck you." I said while she laughed.
That Beautiful Black Man
I usually avoided the Palace because it was right next to my former employer. I didn't think there would be an issue because it was after seven and I knew they were closed.
I ordered a plain chicken breast and a diet coke to be delivered to the table.
"May I offer you a drink," she said as I slid into the seat across from her. "Possibly a COCK-tail?!?" She exploded in laughter.
I just hung my head and shook it. "I see you talked to Linda."
"Oh yes, yes I did! Now that's funny. That's really funny. You were worried about being judged on Hotornot? Ha! Ha! Ha!" She continued to laugh out loud.
"That's what I love about you Paris, you are always a sympathetic ear." I rested my head in my hands.
"Stupid bastard. See, you should have let me take the pictures."
"The last time I saw you was at Kiki's house. Do you have a camera with you now? I know I don't. Our schedules never seem to click."
"You and your goddamn particulars. Why did you even do it in the first place?" She asked sipping on her beer.
"Did you order yet?" I asked her trying to change the subject.
"Of course I did. What do you want?"
"I have a chicken breast and a diet coke coming."
"You're still eating well. And you've kept the weight off, good boy."
"I have to stay in shape if I want the plan to come together." I said twisting from side to side.
"What plan is that? The online dating plan?" She snickered.
"No, no, no. That's more of an experiment to see if I've become a viable property. If I happen to hook up in the process then so be it. I actually put an add up on Yahoo just to see if I get any legitimate hits. Living around here sucks. Every personal I look at wants doughy white guys. That's not me."
"What do you mean?" She said feigning shock. "You're not white?!?"
"Kiss my ass." I said as the arrived with our food.
"So what's this big plan?" She asked digging into her Greek salad.
"I'm expanding on the American Dream. I've had the 'good' corporate job - that I hated, I own a European car, I've had some money in the bank, not so much anymore but I've had it. I've called my bosses morons, told them they can go stick that 'good' corporate job in their ass, and now I spend my days doing what I love. Yes, I'm in debt but who isn't?"
The light from the ceiling caught her eyes just right. For a second I was lost in their reflection. They glimmered like finely crafted Waterford Crystal.
"And what do you have to show for all of this?" She asked looking through the finely crafted crystal.
"More quality time with you, pretty girl!" I smiled like a fifteen year old school girl telling her friends she had been asked to the senior prom.
"Asshole."
"Seriously, it's the American Dream 2.0, kid. I'm trying to live on my own terms."
"Here's a toast," she said raising her beer into the light. "To the American Dream 2.0"
"Here, here!"
"Is that diet coke going to be strong enough? Might I suggest, perhaps, a COCK-tail?!?"
"Fuck you." I said while she laughed.
That Beautiful Black Man
Thursday, February 27, 2014
58 - A Picture's Worth
"A picture's worth a thousand words but $300! They want $300 just for me
to sit down for the photoshoot. I can't tell you how much it will be per print.
I can't fucking believe it!" I let the smoke blow into the crisp late October
wind.
"You know you can smoke inside the house. Kiki does it all the time."
Paris said smiling at me. "And besides, you asshole, it's freezing."
"You see I told you. My price wasn't that bad." She brushed her freshly
cut hair away from her face and sat on Kiki's couch. We had both taken the trip
up to visit a mutual friend to cheer her up. Unfortunately Kiki had set up a
date with her new boyfriend so Paris and I were left alone in the house.
"Do you know if she has any food here?" I asked walking toward the
kitchen. We had just had a little dinner but I needed a quick snack to tide me
over.
"How many recent divorced women do you know that keep food in their house?"
She said taking a sip of wine then stretching out across the couch. She was
wearing khaki cargo pants, a long sleeve white shirt, and no underwear. I swear
the girl is out to kill me.
"Fuuuuuuuck!" I said flicking a long bit of ash into the ashtray on the
kitchen table.
"Let me get this straight; we both drive up here to cheer her up and she
goes out mud bogging?"
"Yep. We're here to keep her happy."
"Yeah I know. It's about making sure Kiki is happy." I sat down at the
other end of the couch.
"So how much are you going to charge me to take my picture?"
"I am not going to charge you any money. I've got a better idea." She put
her hands behind her head and crossed her legs across my lap.
"I am going to take fifteen good pictures of you. I get to dress you and
choose the background. We will use my digital camera and I will not charge you
a dime."
"What's the catch?" I said rubbing her shin.
"Moohahahahahaha!" She laughed her little evil laugh. "We pick the best
one and put it up on Hotornot.com!" She curled into a little ball of laughter.
"You have got to be out of your fuckin' mind!" I said rolling my head on
the back of the couch. "Can't I massage or oral my way out of this?!?"
"Let me think about this...NO! No, no, no, no ... Oh wait hold on ...
NO!!!" She exploded in laughter again.
"Goddamn It!" I said taking a deep drag.
"What are you so worried about?!?" She sprang up and supported her weight
with her arms behind her. Her bare feet were under my thigh. Her hair brushed
against her cheeks. "You sign your e-mails 'That Beautiful Black Man' or 'One
Of God's Beautiful Black Men' or 'The Black Prince'. This shit shouldn't be a
problem for you." She wiggled her toes against my thigh.
"Yes I'm a narcissist but I'm a self-loathing narcissist. I want people to
know more about what I do than who I am. Do I look like just another piece of
meat to you?"
She squinted her eyes and pouted her lips as though she were checking me
out. "No, you are a beautiful piece of meat."
"Are you sure I can't oral my way out of this?" I said rubbing her knees.
"You said it yourself, a picture's worth a thousand words." She said
curling back into evil laughter. "Be ready by the end of November."
That Beautiful Black Man
to sit down for the photoshoot. I can't tell you how much it will be per print.
I can't fucking believe it!" I let the smoke blow into the crisp late October
wind.
"You know you can smoke inside the house. Kiki does it all the time."
Paris said smiling at me. "And besides, you asshole, it's freezing."
"You see I told you. My price wasn't that bad." She brushed her freshly
cut hair away from her face and sat on Kiki's couch. We had both taken the trip
up to visit a mutual friend to cheer her up. Unfortunately Kiki had set up a
date with her new boyfriend so Paris and I were left alone in the house.
"Do you know if she has any food here?" I asked walking toward the
kitchen. We had just had a little dinner but I needed a quick snack to tide me
over.
"How many recent divorced women do you know that keep food in their house?"
She said taking a sip of wine then stretching out across the couch. She was
wearing khaki cargo pants, a long sleeve white shirt, and no underwear. I swear
the girl is out to kill me.
"Fuuuuuuuck!" I said flicking a long bit of ash into the ashtray on the
kitchen table.
"Let me get this straight; we both drive up here to cheer her up and she
goes out mud bogging?"
"Yep. We're here to keep her happy."
"Yeah I know. It's about making sure Kiki is happy." I sat down at the
other end of the couch.
"So how much are you going to charge me to take my picture?"
"I am not going to charge you any money. I've got a better idea." She put
her hands behind her head and crossed her legs across my lap.
"I am going to take fifteen good pictures of you. I get to dress you and
choose the background. We will use my digital camera and I will not charge you
a dime."
"What's the catch?" I said rubbing her shin.
"Moohahahahahaha!" She laughed her little evil laugh. "We pick the best
one and put it up on Hotornot.com!" She curled into a little ball of laughter.
"You have got to be out of your fuckin' mind!" I said rolling my head on
the back of the couch. "Can't I massage or oral my way out of this?!?"
"Let me think about this...NO! No, no, no, no ... Oh wait hold on ...
NO!!!" She exploded in laughter again.
"Goddamn It!" I said taking a deep drag.
"What are you so worried about?!?" She sprang up and supported her weight
with her arms behind her. Her bare feet were under my thigh. Her hair brushed
against her cheeks. "You sign your e-mails 'That Beautiful Black Man' or 'One
Of God's Beautiful Black Men' or 'The Black Prince'. This shit shouldn't be a
problem for you." She wiggled her toes against my thigh.
"Yes I'm a narcissist but I'm a self-loathing narcissist. I want people to
know more about what I do than who I am. Do I look like just another piece of
meat to you?"
She squinted her eyes and pouted her lips as though she were checking me
out. "No, you are a beautiful piece of meat."
"Are you sure I can't oral my way out of this?" I said rubbing her knees.
"You said it yourself, a picture's worth a thousand words." She said
curling back into evil laughter. "Be ready by the end of November."
That Beautiful Black Man
Monday, February 24, 2014
55 - The Sacred Order Of Moo
"I just need to know if you have a digital camera," I said to Paris. "Mine
just died and I need to have a picture of myself."
We were enjoying the last few good days of the year. She had some time and
I had been sent home from work again for refusing to acknowledge authority.
Sitting in the park is one of the best ways to kill time on a lazy late summer
day.
"Is there any reason you need this picture?" she said crossing her legs.
She leaned forward and looked over her sunglasses. She looked good; white short
shorts, white sneakers, a yellow Bebe tube top and no tan lines. Evil bitch.
I shook out an American Spirit Yellow, lit it, and stared deep into the
clear blue sky. The clouds were dancing on the horizon and the sun was just
thinking about going down.
The smoke rolled in the air. I could tell it was reaching for the sky and
felt sad as the wind blew it apart.
"I haven't had anyone take a good picture of me since 1997. I just
want to document my life as I get older. You know have a shot of me every few
years so I can go back when I'm older and see how good I look."
"That's real deep, narcissist." She said leaning back and resting her arms
on the top of the bench.
"What did you expect me to do Hotornot.com? Get judged on looks alone?"
"No but that's a good idea. I was kind of hoping," she continued, "that
you were going to do something exciting with it. You haven't put the weight
back on, I thought you might do one of those on line dating things."
"Fuck that. That's even worse." I said watching the smoke dance near the
rocks.
"I'll do it for twenty bucks."
"What?!? Twenty fucking dollars?" I said choking on a drag.
"What do you mean WHAT? You said it yourself you want to document your
life as you get older. This is history. Think of it as a bargain." A slick
smile cut across her face.
"How about I introduce you to The Sacred Order Of Moo?"
"The Sacred Order Of What the Fuck?!?"
"The Sacred Order Of Moo. Some people have secret handshakes, some have
little signs, I have The Sacred Order Of Moo. This is for my really close
friends. Whenever we meet we simply say," I leaned in a little closer, looked
around to make sure no one else was listening and blew the smoke off to the
side, "Moo."
"You are an asshole. Moooo!!!"
"No! No! No! Moo. As short as you can say it. Moo. It's like having a
AAA card. If you meet someone who is part of the Order and you say Moo and they
say Moo back that means that they are a very good friend of mine and they will
treat you as well as they would treat me even if they don't know you. This
let's them know that I know you and trust you with my life. It's so completely
crazy."
"This was definately not in 'How To Succed With Women'. That's a page from
'How To Stay Single & Masturbate.'
That Beautiful Black Man
just died and I need to have a picture of myself."
We were enjoying the last few good days of the year. She had some time and
I had been sent home from work again for refusing to acknowledge authority.
Sitting in the park is one of the best ways to kill time on a lazy late summer
day.
"Is there any reason you need this picture?" she said crossing her legs.
She leaned forward and looked over her sunglasses. She looked good; white short
shorts, white sneakers, a yellow Bebe tube top and no tan lines. Evil bitch.
I shook out an American Spirit Yellow, lit it, and stared deep into the
clear blue sky. The clouds were dancing on the horizon and the sun was just
thinking about going down.
The smoke rolled in the air. I could tell it was reaching for the sky and
felt sad as the wind blew it apart.
"I haven't had anyone take a good picture of me since 1997. I just
want to document my life as I get older. You know have a shot of me every few
years so I can go back when I'm older and see how good I look."
"That's real deep, narcissist." She said leaning back and resting her arms
on the top of the bench.
"What did you expect me to do Hotornot.com? Get judged on looks alone?"
"No but that's a good idea. I was kind of hoping," she continued, "that
you were going to do something exciting with it. You haven't put the weight
back on, I thought you might do one of those on line dating things."
"Fuck that. That's even worse." I said watching the smoke dance near the
rocks.
"I'll do it for twenty bucks."
"What?!? Twenty fucking dollars?" I said choking on a drag.
"What do you mean WHAT? You said it yourself you want to document your
life as you get older. This is history. Think of it as a bargain." A slick
smile cut across her face.
"How about I introduce you to The Sacred Order Of Moo?"
"The Sacred Order Of What the Fuck?!?"
"The Sacred Order Of Moo. Some people have secret handshakes, some have
little signs, I have The Sacred Order Of Moo. This is for my really close
friends. Whenever we meet we simply say," I leaned in a little closer, looked
around to make sure no one else was listening and blew the smoke off to the
side, "Moo."
"You are an asshole. Moooo!!!"
"No! No! No! Moo. As short as you can say it. Moo. It's like having a
AAA card. If you meet someone who is part of the Order and you say Moo and they
say Moo back that means that they are a very good friend of mine and they will
treat you as well as they would treat me even if they don't know you. This
let's them know that I know you and trust you with my life. It's so completely
crazy."
"This was definately not in 'How To Succed With Women'. That's a page from
'How To Stay Single & Masturbate.'
That Beautiful Black Man
Thursday, February 20, 2014
53 - Well Swill
"I hate this why can't we just smoke at the bar," said Paris sitting down
at the patio table. "Don't these fucking people know what my needs are? I need
to see the selection. I don't want the well swill." I like hanging with Paris.
She's so subtle.
"At least it's a nice day." She said slamming her purse down on the table
and lighting her cigarette. She had a little gift bag with her.
"Good to see you too, kiddo." I said taking out an American Spirit yellow.
She looked at my face and tilted her head. "Nice you took my advice. Ten
pounds?"
I stood up, held my arms out, and did a little spin. "Thirty. Thirty
pounds, pretty girl."
"Handsome."
"Thank you," I said blowing the smoke into the wind. "Let the hunting
begin."
"Hunting?"
"Hunting. It's time to look for some super summer sex."
"It's funny you mention that. I have something for you," she said sliding
the little black to me. "Happy birthday."
I opened the bag and my cigarette almost fell into my lap.
"'How To Succeed With Women'?!? What the hell is this?"
"Oh just fucking say thank you! At least I got you something for your
birthday."
"P, my birthday is in April." I exhaled, flicking the ash on to the brick
patio.
"That's not my fault. Now where's our Goddamn waitress."
"Don't worry I got you. Paris Is Burning. Now really, 'How To Succeed
With Women'?!? What the hell is this?"
"Is there a delayed echo out here?"
"PARIS!"
"Alright," she said putting out her cigarette. "You try too hard."
"What?"
"You try too hard. Remember when you broke up with that twenty year old.."
"She's twenty-one," I corrected her while I flipped through the chapter
heads."
"Whatever. You asked me what was wrong with you. Other than being fat -
and yes you were fat at the time - you try too hard to make a first impression.
You need to relax and let it flow. You can tell you are trying that's not
attractive."
The waitress finally showed up with our drinks. I sat back and let Paris's
words sink in. As I sat up I caught the waitress looking just a little too
long.
"Can I get you anything else?"
"No we're all set," I said blowing the smoke away from her. "Thank you."
"Nice." Said Paris. "Very nice. She had a slight interest and you
acknowledged it. That's all you need."
"I hardly noticed her. I didn't say anything until..."
"The right time." she finished. "You've been out of the game for a while.
Think of this as spring training. You already know how to play this is
just...just sharpening your skills. It's funny as all hell too. I think
you'll like it"
I just looked at my Grey Goose and Red Bull. The smoke rolled over my hand
and across the table. I realized that this was the first time Paris and I had
had anything resembling a heart to heart. In her own little way she was telling
me she was worried about me.
"Look," she said "I know you can see the selection that's out there. I
just don't want you to get stuck with the well swill."
at the patio table. "Don't these fucking people know what my needs are? I need
to see the selection. I don't want the well swill." I like hanging with Paris.
She's so subtle.
"At least it's a nice day." She said slamming her purse down on the table
and lighting her cigarette. She had a little gift bag with her.
"Good to see you too, kiddo." I said taking out an American Spirit yellow.
She looked at my face and tilted her head. "Nice you took my advice. Ten
pounds?"
I stood up, held my arms out, and did a little spin. "Thirty. Thirty
pounds, pretty girl."
"Handsome."
"Thank you," I said blowing the smoke into the wind. "Let the hunting
begin."
"Hunting?"
"Hunting. It's time to look for some super summer sex."
"It's funny you mention that. I have something for you," she said sliding
the little black to me. "Happy birthday."
I opened the bag and my cigarette almost fell into my lap.
"'How To Succeed With Women'?!? What the hell is this?"
"Oh just fucking say thank you! At least I got you something for your
birthday."
"P, my birthday is in April." I exhaled, flicking the ash on to the brick
patio.
"That's not my fault. Now where's our Goddamn waitress."
"Don't worry I got you. Paris Is Burning. Now really, 'How To Succeed
With Women'?!? What the hell is this?"
"Is there a delayed echo out here?"
"PARIS!"
"Alright," she said putting out her cigarette. "You try too hard."
"What?"
"You try too hard. Remember when you broke up with that twenty year old.."
"She's twenty-one," I corrected her while I flipped through the chapter
heads."
"Whatever. You asked me what was wrong with you. Other than being fat -
and yes you were fat at the time - you try too hard to make a first impression.
You need to relax and let it flow. You can tell you are trying that's not
attractive."
The waitress finally showed up with our drinks. I sat back and let Paris's
words sink in. As I sat up I caught the waitress looking just a little too
long.
"Can I get you anything else?"
"No we're all set," I said blowing the smoke away from her. "Thank you."
"Nice." Said Paris. "Very nice. She had a slight interest and you
acknowledged it. That's all you need."
"I hardly noticed her. I didn't say anything until..."
"The right time." she finished. "You've been out of the game for a while.
Think of this as spring training. You already know how to play this is
just...just sharpening your skills. It's funny as all hell too. I think
you'll like it"
I just looked at my Grey Goose and Red Bull. The smoke rolled over my hand
and across the table. I realized that this was the first time Paris and I had
had anything resembling a heart to heart. In her own little way she was telling
me she was worried about me.
"Look," she said "I know you can see the selection that's out there. I
just don't want you to get stuck with the well swill."
Monday, February 10, 2014
45 - Resolutions
"Mine? My resolutions are to gain 40 lbs., smoke two packs of cigarettes a
day, go another $30,000 in debt, and get at least two girls pregnant. Hopefully
they will be of age."
I let the smoke hang in the air. The good thing about crisp winter air is
how good that first drag of an American Spirit feels. We couldn't smoke in the
bar and we weren't going to sit in a car outside of a bar just to smoke. I
don't need those type of rumors flying around.
"Some days you disgust me," said Paris trying to keep the cold out. She
was wearing white Eskimo boots, a thick white winter coat and painted on ski
pants.
"Other days you just amuse me. Seriously why don't you write about me
more. There need to be more Paris stories." Her hat was pulled down to her
sunglasses. You could just see her red lips contrast with her cheeks.
"We don't hang out! I have no frame of reference for you. Every time we
meet it's by some random chance. Think about it, every time we plan to do
something it never happens. Sushi, massages, etc."
"Touche. I'm a busy girl. That will be my resolution. I will bless you
with the grace of my presence ... once or twice."
I just laughed quietly to myself. "That still falls in the category of
planning. You and me. We can't plan. Look at my resolutions." I said
releasing a slow deep drag.
"What's up with those fucked up resolutions?"
"I look at it this way, most people can't stick to those little bullshit
promises they make to themselves. Most of the time they end up doing the
opposite of what they have planned so I figure.."
"You'll lose 40 lbs, quit smoking, blah, blah, blah..."
"Ding, Ding, ding, ding, ding. Who's the big winner here?!? Paris, Paris
is the big winner!"
"You are such an asshole."
"Maybe I'll add that to the list. Be less of an asshole to Paris." I said
flicking my Spirit into the freezing wind.
"Asshole."
That Beautiful Black Man
day, go another $30,000 in debt, and get at least two girls pregnant. Hopefully
they will be of age."
I let the smoke hang in the air. The good thing about crisp winter air is
how good that first drag of an American Spirit feels. We couldn't smoke in the
bar and we weren't going to sit in a car outside of a bar just to smoke. I
don't need those type of rumors flying around.
"Some days you disgust me," said Paris trying to keep the cold out. She
was wearing white Eskimo boots, a thick white winter coat and painted on ski
pants.
"Other days you just amuse me. Seriously why don't you write about me
more. There need to be more Paris stories." Her hat was pulled down to her
sunglasses. You could just see her red lips contrast with her cheeks.
"We don't hang out! I have no frame of reference for you. Every time we
meet it's by some random chance. Think about it, every time we plan to do
something it never happens. Sushi, massages, etc."
"Touche. I'm a busy girl. That will be my resolution. I will bless you
with the grace of my presence ... once or twice."
I just laughed quietly to myself. "That still falls in the category of
planning. You and me. We can't plan. Look at my resolutions." I said
releasing a slow deep drag.
"What's up with those fucked up resolutions?"
"I look at it this way, most people can't stick to those little bullshit
promises they make to themselves. Most of the time they end up doing the
opposite of what they have planned so I figure.."
"You'll lose 40 lbs, quit smoking, blah, blah, blah..."
"Ding, Ding, ding, ding, ding. Who's the big winner here?!? Paris, Paris
is the big winner!"
"You are such an asshole."
"Maybe I'll add that to the list. Be less of an asshole to Paris." I said
flicking my Spirit into the freezing wind.
"Asshole."
That Beautiful Black Man
Friday, January 31, 2014
39 - The Name Game
"The Name Game," said Paris watching me gobble down a chicken parm
grinder. "Sounds interesting." I bounced the idea around between bites of the
grinder and swallows of soda.
"My name isn't on this list is it? I can't imagine there are too many women
named Paris out there." She crossed her legs under the table. I could hear the
sleek black skirt enjoying its duty covering her toned thighs.
"No, no, no that's not how it works." I swallowing a little fizz.
"I have to find a six women who's first name begins with a letter of the alphabet
that I haven't been with yet."
Her phone rang. Without looking at the caller I.D. she said, "I'm eating, you
asshole. I'll call you back when I'm done!"
"Who was that?" I asked attempting to fish my orange lollipop out of the
soda bottle.
"Who cares. They'll call back. They always do."
"You fucking kill me."
"So what letters are left?" Her blue eyes sparkled as they caught a slight
ray of sunshine.
"Z, x, y, u, f, and ... shit. I can't remember the last one. But I'm done. I
didn't know how impossible this was going to be until I really thought about it. I may
as well declare another year of celibacy and call it a day."
I always declared celibacy if there was no interest/intimacy/action. With the
"tank" tops and various other slim pickin's celibacy was becoming the norm.
"Keep your panties on. Zoe, Xena, Yolanda, Ursula and Fran. That's it. You
should be all set."
"And I know ooooh soooo many people with these names."
"Don't be an asshole."
"I haven't even started this quest yet and I'm starting to hate it."
"I like it. I wonder how I would do if I went through my list." She
stared off into the afternoon and her eyes melted with the sunny blue sky.
Paris had a list but she was very quiet about it. She had a quality that all of my
females friends had, she was quick. She was always on her toes. She realized at a young
age that you got more done on your toes than on your back.
"I didn't even know where to start looking for some of these names so I bought
a baby names book."
"You are so pathetic." She said laughing out loud. "I'll tell you
were to start. Lose ten pounds."
"What the f.."
"Maybe twenty. Lose twenty. It's all in your face. You look good but I've seen you look
better. I'm just telling you how it is. We're getting older and it's harder to keep in
shape. Look at me though I don't have to work really hard for this now one day I
will." I looked. I didn't hear her black skirt complaining about her waistline.
Her sleeveless blue blouse didn't have much to say either.
"I want you to play the name game not the shame game. The name game," she
said again finishing her water. "I like it."
That Beautiful Black Man
grinder. "Sounds interesting." I bounced the idea around between bites of the
grinder and swallows of soda.
"My name isn't on this list is it? I can't imagine there are too many women
named Paris out there." She crossed her legs under the table. I could hear the
sleek black skirt enjoying its duty covering her toned thighs.
"No, no, no that's not how it works." I swallowing a little fizz.
"I have to find a six women who's first name begins with a letter of the alphabet
that I haven't been with yet."
Her phone rang. Without looking at the caller I.D. she said, "I'm eating, you
asshole. I'll call you back when I'm done!"
"Who was that?" I asked attempting to fish my orange lollipop out of the
soda bottle.
"Who cares. They'll call back. They always do."
"You fucking kill me."
"So what letters are left?" Her blue eyes sparkled as they caught a slight
ray of sunshine.
"Z, x, y, u, f, and ... shit. I can't remember the last one. But I'm done. I
didn't know how impossible this was going to be until I really thought about it. I may
as well declare another year of celibacy and call it a day."
I always declared celibacy if there was no interest/intimacy/action. With the
"tank" tops and various other slim pickin's celibacy was becoming the norm.
"Keep your panties on. Zoe, Xena, Yolanda, Ursula and Fran. That's it. You
should be all set."
"And I know ooooh soooo many people with these names."
"Don't be an asshole."
"I haven't even started this quest yet and I'm starting to hate it."
"I like it. I wonder how I would do if I went through my list." She
stared off into the afternoon and her eyes melted with the sunny blue sky.
Paris had a list but she was very quiet about it. She had a quality that all of my
females friends had, she was quick. She was always on her toes. She realized at a young
age that you got more done on your toes than on your back.
"I didn't even know where to start looking for some of these names so I bought
a baby names book."
"You are so pathetic." She said laughing out loud. "I'll tell you
were to start. Lose ten pounds."
"What the f.."
"Maybe twenty. Lose twenty. It's all in your face. You look good but I've seen you look
better. I'm just telling you how it is. We're getting older and it's harder to keep in
shape. Look at me though I don't have to work really hard for this now one day I
will." I looked. I didn't hear her black skirt complaining about her waistline.
Her sleeveless blue blouse didn't have much to say either.
"I want you to play the name game not the shame game. The name game," she
said again finishing her water. "I like it."
That Beautiful Black Man
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
36 - A Calmer Peace
She just laughed. I liked her laugh. It was loud and uncaring like her.
If there was really a problem you would never know it. It was that way because
that was just the way she was and because in her words "It was none of your
goddamn business anyway!"
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to laugh but are you serious?!?" asked
Paris wiping away tears from her eyes.
I just shook my head yes and let the smoke trail into the late summer
afternoon. This one of the nice days we had had in a while so I decided to
visit Paris's couch.
"Anger management classes?!? Weren't you the one who said that he
wanted to keep the edge? Didn't you say that it would take away from your
creative spark if you veered off of your 'path'?"
"I was talking about Prozac and Zyban and all that medication shit.
This is different. I was thinking about seeing a shrink but they are far more
expensive."
She suddenly sat a little straighter. Her face changed from unbridled
amusement to almost caring concern.
"What's going on with you? I thought the writing was helping."
"It is but have you ever just been angry and not been able to figure
out why?" She looked off in memory. "I mean part of it is the job
but I'm working on that. I think a lot of it is just me. My thought was to
check out these classes and see where I get. If that fails look into
rent-a-friend."
"Rent-a-friend?"
"Yeah. To me going to see a shrink is like sitting with a buddy,
telling him your problems, and then loaning him ninety bucks you know you'll
never see again."
She just shook her head and smiled. "This is just far too depressing.
Let's pack a bowl." She said walking into the kitchen.
"I can't. It'll put me right to sleep and we both know I can't get
caught here sleeping."
"I don't know why I'm saying this but maybe you need some
direction."
"Duh!!"
"No, you asshole, with your little stories. They're entertaining but
maybe if there was a long term goal, an on going series you'd have something to
look forward to."
"This isn't going to turn into to another pitch to write a book is
it?"
"No. I'm just saying if you begin with a certain end in mind maybe
you'll reach a calmer peace. Now I'm going to pack this. Do you want
some?"
"Naw," I said. "I'm gonna go to class and then work on this
'calmer peace' thing."
I crushed my cigarette in the ashtray and let the last bit of smoke roll
off into memory.
That Beautiful Black Man
If there was really a problem you would never know it. It was that way because
that was just the way she was and because in her words "It was none of your
goddamn business anyway!"
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to laugh but are you serious?!?" asked
Paris wiping away tears from her eyes.
I just shook my head yes and let the smoke trail into the late summer
afternoon. This one of the nice days we had had in a while so I decided to
visit Paris's couch.
"Anger management classes?!? Weren't you the one who said that he
wanted to keep the edge? Didn't you say that it would take away from your
creative spark if you veered off of your 'path'?"
"I was talking about Prozac and Zyban and all that medication shit.
This is different. I was thinking about seeing a shrink but they are far more
expensive."
She suddenly sat a little straighter. Her face changed from unbridled
amusement to almost caring concern.
"What's going on with you? I thought the writing was helping."
"It is but have you ever just been angry and not been able to figure
out why?" She looked off in memory. "I mean part of it is the job
but I'm working on that. I think a lot of it is just me. My thought was to
check out these classes and see where I get. If that fails look into
rent-a-friend."
"Rent-a-friend?"
"Yeah. To me going to see a shrink is like sitting with a buddy,
telling him your problems, and then loaning him ninety bucks you know you'll
never see again."
She just shook her head and smiled. "This is just far too depressing.
Let's pack a bowl." She said walking into the kitchen.
"I can't. It'll put me right to sleep and we both know I can't get
caught here sleeping."
"I don't know why I'm saying this but maybe you need some
direction."
"Duh!!"
"No, you asshole, with your little stories. They're entertaining but
maybe if there was a long term goal, an on going series you'd have something to
look forward to."
"This isn't going to turn into to another pitch to write a book is
it?"
"No. I'm just saying if you begin with a certain end in mind maybe
you'll reach a calmer peace. Now I'm going to pack this. Do you want
some?"
"Naw," I said. "I'm gonna go to class and then work on this
'calmer peace' thing."
I crushed my cigarette in the ashtray and let the last bit of smoke roll
off into memory.
That Beautiful Black Man
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
32 - Paris Getaway
"This, you asshole," said Paris. "This is what I am talking about!" She looked good sitting on her porch. She was wearing a baby blue sweat suit, white baseball cap, glasses, and white sneakers with no socks.
"You write maybe two or three of these short stories and then you disappear for two or three months. You could be dead and no one would know about it for weeks."
"Good to see you t.."
"Asshole!"
"I brought you coffee and cigarettes. Lite and sweet, and a pack of Marlboro lights, correct?"
I set the coffee and cigarettes on her little table and sat down on the seat next to it. I have a love hate relationship with Paris's apartment. I love the fact that no one knows I'm there. I like the leather couch in the living room but I don't like the overall space. I told her that once and her response was typical Paris "You don't live here so don't worry about it."
I liked hanging out with Paris because we had come to the quiet realization a long time ago that there would be no sex. The topic never came up. Never will. No reason to. The closest we would come would be a one sided massage (I hate getting massages).
"I may as well be dead. No one calls except for you, Terry, and Marrianne. Terry lives above a church, and Marrianne lives in Boston so you know I never see them."
I took a slow deep drag of my freshly lit American Spirit and let the smoke cascade out of my mouth like the clouds from the heavens gates.
"So if no one calls then you have more time to write, right?" She said slowly sipping her coffee.
"It's just that I...I..." Another deep drag. "It's...There's so much to write about I don't know where to start. Between the house, getting transferred back to this shitty CT office, and the music I can't organize enough to know where to start.
"And this is important to me how?" She took off her hat and shook some life into her newly freed hair.
"That means you get more free cigarettes, free coffee, and the pleasure of my company." The slick smile cut across my face like a hot knife through butter.
"Asshole!"
That Beautiful Black Man
"You write maybe two or three of these short stories and then you disappear for two or three months. You could be dead and no one would know about it for weeks."
"Good to see you t.."
"Asshole!"
"I brought you coffee and cigarettes. Lite and sweet, and a pack of Marlboro lights, correct?"
I set the coffee and cigarettes on her little table and sat down on the seat next to it. I have a love hate relationship with Paris's apartment. I love the fact that no one knows I'm there. I like the leather couch in the living room but I don't like the overall space. I told her that once and her response was typical Paris "You don't live here so don't worry about it."
I liked hanging out with Paris because we had come to the quiet realization a long time ago that there would be no sex. The topic never came up. Never will. No reason to. The closest we would come would be a one sided massage (I hate getting massages).
"I may as well be dead. No one calls except for you, Terry, and Marrianne. Terry lives above a church, and Marrianne lives in Boston so you know I never see them."
I took a slow deep drag of my freshly lit American Spirit and let the smoke cascade out of my mouth like the clouds from the heavens gates.
"So if no one calls then you have more time to write, right?" She said slowly sipping her coffee.
"It's just that I...I..." Another deep drag. "It's...There's so much to write about I don't know where to start. Between the house, getting transferred back to this shitty CT office, and the music I can't organize enough to know where to start.
"And this is important to me how?" She took off her hat and shook some life into her newly freed hair.
"That means you get more free cigarettes, free coffee, and the pleasure of my company." The slick smile cut across my face like a hot knife through butter.
"Asshole!"
That Beautiful Black Man
Monday, January 20, 2014
30- Spell Check
"Spell check!" Paris said sliding into the booth directly across
from me. My blank expression must have been obvious.
"I'm guessing I'm not the only one who gets these little stories,
right?" She asked taking a sip of the black coffee I had waiting for her.
"Right," I said.
"Well then hit the spell check button. I see you on an almost weekly
basis so I know you are not a complete idiot. If you are just writing sending
these stories to people you don't know that well, well you might come off as an
idiot."
"Really, I'm fine and how are y.."
"Plus they're getting too long again." She interrupted. "I
can't get caught up reading you at work."
"Then read me at home ... naked on your couch ... with soft music
playing." I could feel the slick smile cut across my face. Her face, on
the other hand, pinched up like she just caught the smell of sweaty feet.
"Asshole."
"So what do you do? Where do you read them?" I asked finishing
off my white chocolate chai.
"I print you out and read you in the bathroom when I get free
time." I could feel the slick smile again.
"You're not that lucky," she said catching the smile.
"Writers should know how to write and how to keep the audience interested.
Understand? Plus there's too much fucking profanity!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"At least it's not as dark as it's been over the past few months. I
was really worried about you." She started to light up a Marlboro light.
I was tempted to join her but luckily you can't smoke in the restaurants in CT
anymore. I pointed out the no smoking sign to her.
"Don't these fucking people understand my needs?" She jammed the
cigarette back into the pack. "At least you get it. So who's the girl
from this weekend?"
"Come on, Paris, you're like the tenth person to ask me today. You
know I can't tell you."
"Whatever. Just keep your stories like a good quickie; short,
interesting, and no boring parts. Spell Check!"
That Beautiful Black Man
from me. My blank expression must have been obvious.
"I'm guessing I'm not the only one who gets these little stories,
right?" She asked taking a sip of the black coffee I had waiting for her.
"Right," I said.
"Well then hit the spell check button. I see you on an almost weekly
basis so I know you are not a complete idiot. If you are just writing sending
these stories to people you don't know that well, well you might come off as an
idiot."
"Really, I'm fine and how are y.."
"Plus they're getting too long again." She interrupted. "I
can't get caught up reading you at work."
"Then read me at home ... naked on your couch ... with soft music
playing." I could feel the slick smile cut across my face. Her face, on
the other hand, pinched up like she just caught the smell of sweaty feet.
"Asshole."
"So what do you do? Where do you read them?" I asked finishing
off my white chocolate chai.
"I print you out and read you in the bathroom when I get free
time." I could feel the slick smile again.
"You're not that lucky," she said catching the smile.
"Writers should know how to write and how to keep the audience interested.
Understand? Plus there's too much fucking profanity!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"At least it's not as dark as it's been over the past few months. I
was really worried about you." She started to light up a Marlboro light.
I was tempted to join her but luckily you can't smoke in the restaurants in CT
anymore. I pointed out the no smoking sign to her.
"Don't these fucking people understand my needs?" She jammed the
cigarette back into the pack. "At least you get it. So who's the girl
from this weekend?"
"Come on, Paris, you're like the tenth person to ask me today. You
know I can't tell you."
"Whatever. Just keep your stories like a good quickie; short,
interesting, and no boring parts. Spell Check!"
That Beautiful Black Man
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