Playing Patience(16)

Zeke strummed the chords for his solo and once again I was caught with how untouchable he was for me. He closed his eyes as he played and the light glinted off the piercing on his eyebrow. I found myself jealous of his freedom to be himself. Just like the first time I saw him, he was dripping with moody sexiness. The fact that I could describe him as sexy was a huge step for me, but it was the truth and all the girls pushing toward the stage to get into his line of vision knew it just as much as I did. Zeke Mitchell was sexy. He was a total asshole, but I guess it worked for him.

After a few unopened bottles of beer, and entirely too many stink eyes from the bitchy bartender, I was starting to feel myself relax. The alcohol had made its way through my system and down into my limbs. I was beginning to enjoy myself. I even caught myself swaying to the music every now and again.

An hour after that, I was dancing with Megan and a group of people I didn’t know. I was jumping up and down, screaming lyrics I’d just learned, and laughing like I hadn’t laughed since I was seven. Like, real laughter, not the fake stuff that I produced around people at school. It was an amazing feeling. I could totally see myself becoming an alcoholic real quick if it meant feeling this way all the time.

And then suddenly the fun was over. The crowd broke and darted in different directions as The Pit filled with police officers. Megan grabbed my hand and pulled me in her direction, but the beer had taken its toll and my reflexes weren’t working.

“Come on, Patience! Pick up your feet!” she screamed over the loudness.

The music had stopped and all I could hear were the sounds of the police yelling for everyone to freeze. The lights were flickering and I saw a few people get trampled. Then Megan’s hand was ripped from mine and I was thrown back. I lost my balance and fell hard onto the sticky concrete floor. I tried to get up, but some girl stepped on me and I fell back onto my stomach. Then I felt a strong grip on my arms as someone pulled me into the standing position. For a brief moment, I felt relief, but then my arms were pulled behind my back and I was handcuffed.





Five

Zeke



“You going to class?” Chet asked, as he passed me a joint.

We were lying in the back of my El Camino, getting high in the school parking lot.

“I doubt it. You?” I took a deep draw and held it.

“Pfft, hell no. I’ve had enough schooling for the week. Let’s go grab something to eat, man. I’m fucking starving my ass off. I’d give my left nut for a burger and a milkshake right now.”

We ended up at the McDonald’s by Finn’s house with half of the dollar menu lying across the dash of my car.

“So, that chick Megan is coming out Friday to watch us play. I hope she wears that tight-ass schoolgirl uniform.” He made a growling noise in the back of his throat. “Dude, that shit is fucking hot. Hey, maybe she’ll bring your girl with her. You know the blonde. If she can stay sober long enough maybe you’ll get lucky,” he joked.

“Please. That chick’s as straight as they come. I’d have to drug her, too, to get her to put out.” We laughed.

Later that night, we played at Finn’s for two hours before I finally headed home. When I got there, Dad wasn’t there, which meant he was out on a call, towing a car for someone. I went inside, heated up two packs of oodles and noodles, then fell onto the couch to watch some TV and eat. I had just finished my noodles when I heard my dad pull up. I threw my bowl in the sink and went to take a shower.

That night he didn’t fuck with me. I guess he was too exhausted from work to even bother. I wish they’d work him to death more often. Shit, I wish they’d just work him to death… period. I fell asleep in a pair of boxers with my radio on and dreamt of the blond girl and her strange blue eyes.

By the time Friday rolled around, I’d missed two days of school and was so broke I barely had enough gas money to spit in my gas tank. I’d been to every business in town trying to get a job, but the tattoos and piercings weren’t accepted by most. Instead, I found myself on the front porch of Javier, the local dope dealer. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if I wanted to have gas money and food I needed some cash. Dad worked, but he was the stingiest son of a bitch alive and I was old enough to take care of myself.

I left Javier’s place with an ounce of weed. He didn’t want to start me out with too much, even though I’d told him I could have that sold in less than thirty minutes at The Pit. I had to start somewhere. An ounce of weed today would be a pound of blow tomorrow. Either way, it was money in my pocket.

I showered, got dressed, and drove over to The Pit. The band was already setting up by the time I got there and there were already at least twenty people at the bar. It wasn’t long until we were up on stage playing our asses off for a roomful. I played until my fingers ached and took a swig from my beer every chance I got. It was a good night. I was playing my heart out and later, once everything was settled, I’d sell this weed and get my money.