11-Paul

“Where’d you buy all the forties?” Lauren asked, peering into the back seat. She sat in the front passenger seat while Paul drove. They sped down the crumbling concrete stretch of road that was the main drag through town, rife with strip malls and traffic lights.

“Take a wild guess,” Paul replied.

“The Express Mart in that one super-sketchy shopping center?”

Paul nodded. “You got it. Usually they don’t even card me there. I’m not sure if they even speak any English.”

“Oh, so they wouldn’t even be able to card you then, even if they wanted to.” Lauren shrugged comically. “You got it made, dude. You found the loophole.”

Paul chuckled. Lauren always cracked him up. He loved how she kept her sense of humor at all times—idle ones like this of course, but also during stressful or difficult situations too, and always with perfect tact. It was phenomenal how she did it.

They’d been dating since the fall, which was an eternity compared to most relationships in their school. Growing up, Paul had never received a whole lot of attention from the girls, that was, until freshman year when he’d shot up in height and towered over most other guys. He’d always run with Rob, in what was considered the tough crew in their school. But he was always the quiet, mysterious one in the group, overlooked by disciplinarians, in part because he managed good grades throughout it all, and he usually stayed out of trouble.

Well—he didn’t get caught, at least.

Lauren Kenny was a junior, just like him. She was pretty with her dirty blonde hair and diamond-shiny eyes, but it was her unceasing humor and tell-it-like-it-is attitude that stood out even more. Especially to the guys, with whom she had no trouble keeping up with, whether it was in the domain of snappy commentary, or just general partying. With her, Paul realized he had the best of both worlds. An awesome girlfriend, and one who could hang. High school had been fun from the get-go, but once he’d started dating her, it took everything to the next level. The days and weeks with her weren’t just fun—they were the best he’d ever had.

One night, after they’d been making out for a while, he asked her why she liked him. He wasn’t outgoing and hilarious like some of the other guys in his group. If anything, he was quiet, even shy. So why him? She didn’t hesitate at all, saying it was because he was always so calm and in control. He was always steady. She said that was even better. She said it was sexy, too. It was probably the best thing anyone had ever said to him.

Paul glanced at her as she poked around in the bags in the back seat, laughing at the sheer number of forties.

“Ah, the joys of having a fake ID,” she said. “Lucky you.”

“It’s not actually a fake ID, though. It’s a real ID. It’s just not me.”

“Right. That’s the best kind of fake.”

Paul’s pager started beeping, and he checked it as he drove, his eyes moving back and forth from it to the road.

Lauren spied him. “Business?”

“I have no idea who this is.”

“Please. I know you’re helping Rob sell his stash.”

“Dude needs some help. Someone’s gotta keep his shit clean.”

“Really, Paul? Does someone really need to?”

“C’mon, Lauren. I’ve known Rob since fuckin’ kindergarten. You know that.”

“So.”

“Damn, you keep lighting me up today.”

“I’m just sayin.’ Why do you always have to be like, the cavalry, coming to save the day? You might like to just relax sometime, you know?”

“Relax?”

Lauren continued. “I mean, you think Joe or Antwann would spend their Friday night cruising up and down this maddening stretch of highway, waiting for random potheads to flag them down? Not a chance. You should try to be lazy for once, like them. You might actually like it.”

Paul didn’t reply.

“Anyway, what if Sonny ever found out about this, Paul? Did you ever think about that?”

“Shiiit…Sonny would probably call the cops on my ass. Either that, or he’d try to organize an intervention. Sonny probably equates marijuana with crack.”

She giggled while Paul put his pager away, ignoring it.

“Let’s just go to Antwann’s and get fucked up,” he proposed.

“That’s the best suggestion you’ve had all day,” Lauren said, smiling. She flicked some ash out of the window from her cigarette as the car sped down the road in the fading twilight of the young summer night.

They soon turned off the main drag and within minutes cruised through the streets of an older suburban neighborhood where the massive trees dwarfed the homes, and the bushes and branches were green and lush. Antwann’s house already had several cars parked alongside of it. Paul parked his car in line with the rest of them, and then stood up, pulling the bags of forties from the back seat.

They walked around the side of the house and to the gate that opened to the backyard. The heat had finally relented, and the pleasant night air carried lively voices and shouts from within, all riding atop a steady stream of hip-hop. Passing through the gate, the first sight to greet them was the quarters table, which was set up in the yard.

“Paul! What’s up, motherfucker?” Rob said, as soon as they took one step inside the gate, like he’d been monitoring it. He sounded drunk already.

“What’s up, man?” Paul replied.

“Took your ass long enough to get here,” Rob said, scowling. “What, you think you’re too good for all this now?”

“I bought all these forties, you ungrateful ass,” Paul said, holding up the bags.

“Oh, alright. I stand corrected.”

Paul continued. “And if drinking forties outside in the cool, sweet air ever gets old, it will be a sad day. And I’ll be one old, sad motherfucker.”

“A sad motherfucker indeed,” Rob said. “Who’s up next?” he asked, looking around. He and Raza were partners at the quarters table, and a couple of losers shuffled off as two more replaced them. They would be summarily whipped, Paul knew—Rob and Raza were both automatic. The two of them playing on the same team shouldn’t even have been allowed.

As Paul looked on, a new game began and immediately Rob bounced a quarter up and into the first cup, yelled out, “Drink!” while covering the cup with his hand, defending it, and waited for the other quarter to be passed to him. He looked so intense, and so in his element, like he’d been put on Earth to play quarters, and for no other reason.

Paul surveyed the rest of the yard, saw people scattered here and there, and one guy back by some trees taking a leak, but most people were congregated up on the sprawling back porch, amongst a garden of fuming blunts and tall stout forty-ounce bottles. Antwann Jackson was one of the lead harvesters, his grin flashing through a whirl of smoke and glass. He wore giant sunglasses, and Paul was amazed at his afro—it was really in peak form.

“Holy crap!” Lauren said suddenly. “What are my JV girls doing here and I didn’t even know about it until now?”

Paul looked up and saw Ronnie step outside though the sliding glass door. Following behind him were a group of girls freshly arrived, with beers already in hand, and among them were Katherine Lisi and Nikki Felton. The girls were like sleek foxes, beautiful but adorably timid as they entered the scene. Meanwhile Ronnie, their guide, wore no shirt, and had several inches of his boxers visible above his jeans, worn low on his waist, and in between sips of his forty he spoke a mile a minute. Ronnie Whitner was tall, with short black hair, kind eyes, and no matter what kind of situation he was in his face always seemed locked into a half smirk. He looked particularly entertained by the new arrivals to the party.

“Girls, what are you doing here?” Lauren asked, shaking her head. “I did not authorize this.”

“Geez, chill out, Mom,” Nikki replied, sipping her beer.

“It’s all good, Lauren,” Ronnie said. “We’ll take good care of ’em.”

“I’m sure you guys will.”

“I got to say, y’all are some rookies, though,” Ronnie added. “Ringing the bell on the front door? Of this house?”

“What were we supposed to do?” Nikki asked.

Ronnie pointed to the gate in the side yard. “That’s the front door.”

“Do you actually live here?” Katherine wondered. “I thought this was Antwann’s house.”

“It is. But it don’t matter. We brothers.”

“He’s not really your brother, though…right?”

“Yeah, hell yeah he is.”

“By which definition of the word, exactly?” Nikki asked.

“All of them,” Lauren replied. “Except the one in the dictionary.”

Nikki laughed. “Yeah, I was gonna say. You two don’t look alike.”

“Yeah, not to mention how Ronnie dresses straight thug, and meanwhile, Antwann dresses like a skater,” Lauren remarked.

“Yeah, like a white guy,” Ronnie added. “Antwann is white, actually.

“What?” Katherine scowled. “Now I’m just confused.”

“Let me explain to you how it works around here,” Ronnie went on. “It’s actually quite simple, and it’s got nothing to do with skin color. If you live on this side of the highway, you’re white. If you live on the other side, you’re black. That’s it.”

Nikki looked skeptical. “So, you’re telling me that Antwann is white? With that afro?”

“He also listens to Cake and kicks around a hacky sack,” Ronnie replied, shrugging. “I’m just sayin.’”

“What about Raza?” Lauren questioned. “He’s black, because he lives on the other side?”

“Yup.”

“But Raza is Indian,” Nikki said.

Ronnie huffed impatiently. “You go and look at Raza’s CD collection, and then you tell me he’s not black.”

Nikki giggled. “What about Trey, then? So, he’s white, because he lives on this side, right?”

Paul stepped out on the porch, cracking a forty while doing so. “Shiiit…” he murmured, considering. “You need like a fuckin’ supercomputer to figure out my man Trey’s ethnicity.”

Katherine laughed out, louder than she intended. She followed it up with a sip on her beer.

“How the hell y’all know ‘bout this party, anyway?” Ronnie inquired. “I mean, I’m sayin,’ it’s cool, I’m glad y’all here, I’s just wonderin.’’”

“Joe invited me to—”

“Oh, y’all here to see Joe!” Ronnie exclaimed, in a moment of understanding. “Damn, all right. He’s still at work. He’ll be here, though.” Ronnie drank from his forty, swallowed, and then asked, “Where’s that other little cutie you two are always chillin’ with? How come she’s not with y’all? Little blonde girl?”

“You mean Sarah?” Katherine asked.

“Sarah, yeah. Where’s she at?”

“She’s at her boyfriend’s. He’s having a party tonight.” Nikki tried to bite her tongue, but the last part slipped out. Katherine gave her a look.

“Oh, there’s another party going on, tonight, huh?” Ronnie questioned.

The girls smiled at each other and kept quiet.

“There is another party. Look at them. They can’t hide it. Who is it? Sarah’s boyfriend? Who the hell is that?”

The girls only smiled.

“C’mon, just tell us,” Ronnie added. “Look, we partying right here! We ain’t goin’ over there!”

“It’s Zack Huchzermeier,” Rob said, moving up onto the porch. “It’s his party.”

“Zack who? How did you know that, Rob?”

“What? I know everything that goes on.” Rob scowled. “Anyway, we should go check that party out. I heard it’s off the hook.”

“What?” Nikki cried. “That party was supposed to be on the DL. They only invited like, ten people.”

Rob laughed. “Trust me. That party ain’t no secret. I already talked to some people heading over there. It’s wide the fuck open.”

The girls shared a glance.

“C’mon, now,” Raza said, joining them. “You can’t throw a party around here without people finding out about it. It’s impossible. Kids at our school can smell a party. They develop ESP for that shit.”

Laughter rippled through the group, the girls most of all. Paul saw the beer cans returning to their lips repeatedly.

As he looked on, Ronnie handed them two fresh ones, which they both took without hesitance.