|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon May 02, 2011 7:01 pm
It had been a long night - the most epic long night of long nights, in fact.
After a particularly draining dream about things that Kam would have preferred remained buried in the depths of his subconscious until the end of time, he had left the apartment that he shared with Bo to find the closest bar with the cheapest booze. He’d expected Penny to jump at the opportunity – she was pretty fond of boozing it up for any excuse. Except that she didn’t answer her phone when he called, probably because it was well past midnight and she was serious about being up in time for work. <******** adults and their responsibilities. He would never be considered a responsible adult, he was pretty sure, because Kam and responsibility just didn’t go in the same sentence.
That was why he had gone to a shady little place on the corner of 14th street. The half-lit sign above the door read ‘Destiny’s Spirits’. He was disappointed when he walked in and there wasn’t a stripper sideshow. He was sure, with a name like that, that there should have been some kind of topless lady prancing around.
Regardless, it still had what he came for and he’d quickly found a worn out bar stool with that awful, slit and pinching plastic that tried to eat a hole through his faded and worn jeans. The bar itself looked like it had been cleaned the last time the stools were replaced and it left his hands with a dark, sticky smudge. The bartender didn’t seem to be in much better fashion. He was old, balding, and had one squinting eye that made him seem to be permanently scrutinizing everyone around him. ‘Everyone’ included Kam and some old drunk idiot that had slumped over the counter after his binge. Idly, Kam had thought that was a pretty ******** good idea – the binge, not sleeping on the disgusting counter. That was just begging for an eye infection or some s**t.
After the bartender gave him a long speech about the bar’s history and how it had once been a speakeasy during the abolitionist days, Kam finally got him around to pouring a couple of shots of Tequila. It was cheap booze that went down like lighter fluid, but it still got the job done. A few shots and a half dozen beers later and Kam was well on his way to a black out. Unfortunately he had teetered just on the conscious side of it and became so unbearably annoying with his alternations between bitching screams and off-tune singing that the bartender was all but begging him to call someone to pick him up.
Cue Kam feeling as if the bartender was trying to get rid of him. It was true, the old man had been worried about Kam starting a problem, even if there were no other customers for him to really attack. Still, that had meant two things – Kam had a right to feel unwanted and because of the lack of people around him, it meant all of his anger and frustration (including what had existed before he’d taken his first shot) was directed solely on the unfortunate bartender.
At some point during his drunken scene, Kam had crawled up on top of the bar. The old wood creaked and wheezed under the weight of the big, Idian man and the gnarled bartender behind had waved and yelled and used any other kind of tactic to try and get him down. Kam had none of it. He walked along the bowing top, knocking aside glasses and bottles that fell to the floor with a loud crash. He mumbled the whole way about car crashes and long nights, raising his voice at various points like he was a priest preaching to an invisible choir. He had become so used to the harping bartender that when he’d tried to warn him about something, Kam hadn’t even heard and just waved him off like usual.
That was when Kam stepped off of the counter and onto the swinging employee’s door which, from the top, looked nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the grimy counter. It had held him for all of a few seconds before a loud, whining creak echoed through the mostly empty bar and it split in two right down the middle. Kam was deposited on the ground in a heap, banging his head on various points as he went down.
Nausea swept over him in a wave and he emptied his stomach all over the equally dark and grimy floor. Then he had collapsed to the side, his face plastered to the sticky floor. The bartender wasted no time in picking up the phone and making a quick phone call. Kam had been dimly aware of the hurried whispers into the mouth piece before his eyes shut and he was no longer staring at the old man behind the bar.
The next time he came to, it was in handcuffs. Blue and red lights flashed alternately through the dusty bar windows and made Kam squint his eyes. He was still woozy and out of it when two pairs of strong arms lifted him up from the sticky floor and he went without much of a fight, apart from a few mumbled complaints and queries, right out the front door of the bar. The lights were brighter once he was outside and he shut his eyes and completely turned his face away. The arms that were holding him seemed to get impatient and had, without any sensible warning, shoved him through a car door and slammed it behind him.
He idly remembered thinking that they might be taking him to stay with Penny. The old bartender had asked if he wanted anyone to take him home and maybe he’d been conscious enough to recite Penny’s number. Then, as the bodies connected to his previously supportive arms crawled into the front seat of the car, everything clicked.
There was a divider between the front and back seat that had separated him from two men in dark blue. The lights outside were shining from on top of the car he’d just been crowded in to and, for the first time, Kam seemed to notice that his hands were bound by grating metal.
He had just been ******** arrested.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 02, 2011 7:03 pm
That was pretty much all Kam remembered of the night before. Morning before?
He was sharing the drunk cell with two old stinky men who had lost most of their teeth and were probably well on their way to losing their liver as well, and one other kid that looked like he was in college. He was young, baby-faced, and looked absolutely terrified. Staring at him from beneath the arm he had draped over his head in an attempt to block out the artificial light blaring from overhead, Kam was pretty sure he was about two more insults away from pissing his pants.
“Lay off the kid, you old geezers.” His voice was strained and his throat was sore, probably from all the screaming and raving that he couldn’t remember very well. It had continued well into the night when he was finally locked up in the station, until he passed out in a blissful, booze-induced sleep. He could still distinctly remember one of the cops threatening to taze him through the bars if he didn’t ‘shut his gaping hole’.
Cops had the worst manners.
It wasn’t only the cops that had gotten their fill of Kamboja during the night. Even though his sleep was peaceful and empty to him, without any of those awful memories, he’d been tormented by the old men since he’d woken up. The only time they laid off of him was when they were taking their bitterness out on the kid.
“Wha? So ya wan’ us ta start in on ya ag’in?” The older, dirtier of the two had clearly not had enough time to get the booze out of his system. Then again, that guy probably couldn’t get clean without a whole medical staff and pharmacy on hand. With his head pounding to the beat of his heart and his eyes trying to commit suicide by light, Kam could barely understand a damn thing the old man was trying to say. He got the gist of it though and that earned the b*****d a sneer.
“I’m just saying pick on someone your own size. Here’s a hint: we are not the same size.” Kam wasn’t really in the mood to s**t talk anyone or get into an argument. In fact, his world would have been infinitely better if all of them would just shut up. Then he could sleep on the hard, uncomfortable bench he’d taken for himself in peaceful silence. Of course, drunkards rarely obliged the sober (or sobering, in Kam’s case) and Kam really didn’t expect them to give him the silent treatment.
“Oh, big man you aaare.” The second old geezer chimed in, leaning dangerously to the side and narrowing his eyes on Kam. He leered at Kam and his teeth were rotting, yellow and spotted. The sight was so awful that Kam rolled over and put his back to them with his face closer to the wall. He didn’t want to vomit anymore and he could just imagine how foul that old man smelled. He didn’t want to be in the cell anymore when it smelled like stale booze and after shave. Everything around him was making him nauseous and right now, there were only two things he could think of: punching those old bastards in the face and getting the hell out of the cell.
It was all Penny’s fault anyway, he sulked, if she’d just answered her phone and been there to supervise, none of it would have even happened..
The old man took Kam’s turning as a sign of victory though, and instead of simply letting Kam sulk to himself in peace, he just kept on pushing the matter. “Yeaaah, roll over like a dooog, and whimper a liiiittle more about your poor wiiittle broffer.” The exaggerated syllables were tolerable in Kam’s ears, but that baby talk.. that was almost more than he could handle.
Kam sat up abruptly, then instantly wished he hadn’t. His bad boy demeanor was ruined momentarily as his dark face paled slightly and he looked like he was either going to pass out or blow chunks all over the floor of the drunk cell. He slowly regained his composure and, with it, his natural bad a** attitude. He swung his legs over the side of the bench that he was sleeping on and narrowed his eyes on the two old men sitting cross legged in the floor in their piles of rags. They seemed amused, despite the fact that the expression on Kam’s face said he was anything but pleased.
“Wha, ya goin’ ta do somethin’?” The first man tried his luck again, jeering a little as he leaned forward and tried to taunt Kam into action. Kam had to wonder why these old bastards had a death wish – then he remembered that it was probably just the booze talking. How often could you use that excuse if you were always drunk though?
Momentarily Kam seemed deterred by his own thought process, but leave it to the drunken duo to remind him that they needed a good a** kicking.
“Aww, weaaaaaak, you black a*****e.” Then, Kam was officially done sulking. His eyes snapped up to look at both of them, showing as plainly as he could just how ******** irritated he was. Dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the poor little college punk trying to reason with the old men.
“I d-don’t think he’s black.” After everything they’d been tormenting him about and the kid was still trying to reason with them. Maybe he was just afraid of seeing bloodshed so close to his innocent little face. It was going to happen regardless, and even the poor kid couldn’t make the old men see light.
It was okay. Kam had no qualms with punching the s**t out of some old angry bastards.
He stood up with a sneer on his lips and slowly began to cross over to them, ignoring the stabbing pain in the back of his head. Once he was close, he leaned down so that he was closer to eye level with them, then narrowed both of his dark eyes on the pair of them.
“Is there something you want to say to me, you racist ********?” His voice was steady, but definitely not calm. It was more like a chained dog, just waiting to break free and rip someone to shreds. Kam was waiting for it, any reason, even the slightest little misstep.
“Yeah, actuaaally, I wanted to tell ya that your mom is a ********’ –“ Two things happened before the old b*****d could finish his sentence. One, Kam was already reeling back his fist and about to let it fly right into those disgusting, brittle teeth. Two, a cop was stepping up to the cell door. Before the man could finish what he was saying and before Kam could punch him straight in the mouth for it, they were interrupted by a loud, authoritative voice.
“Vaiphei!” Kam’s hand dropped instantly and his eyes snapped up to look at a tall, dark officer pulling out his cell keys. “Quit your s**t, son, it’s time for you to get out of here.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 02, 2011 7:05 pm
Maybe the police officer had just decided to overlook Kam’s intentions. If he had been one second late, the young Indian man would have plowed his fist right into the old b*****d’s face and earned himself much more than a warning for drunk and disorderly conduct in public. No, if he’d actually been able to go through with that, he probably would have gotten himself charge of aggravated assault and been fined at the very least, if not sent to a more long-term prison to await an actual trial.
Kam could barely take one night in jail, he was definitely not interested in pursuing it as a permanent arrangement.
So, Kam had simply leaned away at the orders of the policeman and stepped out of the jail cell with one cocky glance back at the two old men. They grumbled, irritated at his release being the first of the morning, and the college kid even went so far as to stand up and grab the bars closest to Kam and his escort.
“Have you heard from my parents yet, officer?” It was sad, he was so hopeful and yet he just looked.. lost. Kam glanced up to the officer out of habit when he saw him shaking his head sadly at the boy.
“No, I’m afraid we haven’t son.” The kid recoiled like a snake had bit him, struck straight in the heart, and hung his head as he went back to sit on the bench. Kam felt a mild pity for him, even beyond his nausea and pounding headache, but there really wasn’t a damn thing he could do except tell the kid he should probably not get caught drinking next time. Of course, if he felt half as bad as Kam did right then, the last thing he’d want would be a lecture.
He let the tall, imposing police officer lead him down the hallway towards the checkout, and idly Kam wondered if they had sent their biggest on duty officer because he was such a beast. Even in his pain it made Kam smirk – yea, he thought that highly of himself. Nevermind that if that were true, they probably could have just tazed his a** and been done with it. Kam’s mind didn’t exactly work with the most logical thought process.
“Alright, Vaiphei, here’s your things.” A man behind the desk shoved a pile of various things in Kam’s direction across the top, barely looking up from the forms he was busy filling out. Kam took the moment to start putting them back into his oversized jean pockets. First was his wallet after he double checked to make sure the pictures and money were all still there. Next was his cellphone, which he flipped open briefly to check for missed calls, then pocketed with his wallet. Then came a couple of sets of keys, followed by various bits and pieces of gum packs. Lastly was his old, trusty iPod, which he didn’t put away – he simply kept it out.
“You should probably buy a new one of those,” the dark, tall officer said to him from where he was standing by the desk. Probably added security, Kam thought. “I think it’s about three years out dated and has definitely outlasted its warranty from the looks of it.” He seemed amused though, even smiled as he shook his head at the duct taped MP3 player.
“Yeah, I know,” Kam shrugged a little and unwound the headphones a little, “but it’s a waste of money to replace something that still works just fine.” Of course, ‘just fine’ was a relative term. He was sure there were very few people likely to put up with the pain-in-the-a** process he had to go through some days just to make the damn thing start.
“Alright, sign here.” The man at the desk finally lifted his head up from the papers he had been filling out. He slid the papers toward Kam, flipped them around to face him, and held out the pen he had been using. Kam took it and scribbled a barely legible signature.
“Now get out of here and don’t let us catch you tormenting that old man again.” He seemed barely serious, but even then, Kam started to open his mouth to argue. One skeptical glance from the taller, more intimidating officer made him shut it without a word.
“Thanks officers,” he mumbled, then turned on his heel and started to head out of the front of the station. He was unwinding his headset to listen to his iPod when he saw a familiar car sitting just outside. He paused for a moment, wondering if he could just slip by without having to deal with the third degree, but soon enough Penny was rolling down the passenger side window and giving him a pointed glance.
A glance that said ‘you missed work because you were in jail’.
He sighed and walked across the parking lot, pocketing his iPod, and then simply opened the door and collapsed inside. They sat there for a few moments in silence while Penny took a few long drags from the cigarette in her hand and tapped the ashes over the side of the door. Then she flicked it out into the parking lot and turned her gaze on Kam.
“You were crying on my voicemail, you know.”
Kam grimaced, remembering now the pitiful, sobbing voicemail he had left for her hours after they had taken him in. He brought one hand up to his head and tried to rub away both his headache and the memory that he’d ever done that.
“Just drive, Penny.”
He was vaguely aware of laughter, but at least she started the car and pulled away from the station.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
