Cranberry Lane

by Laurèn Lee

  Sure, I’d had women. In fact, I’d had more than I could count. But around these parts? They knew better now. They knew not to go expecting anything after I took ‘em home. All I wanted was a good lay to stay when I needed her to and leave just the same. Love. Nah. I was better off alone.

  I grabbed a Sam Adams from the fridge and took it to my recliner in the living room. Damn, I loved my Lay-Z-Boy. Pre-season football was on and I tucked myself in for a game that didn’t mean nothing, but would keep me entertained all the same.

  “Hey, Wayne?”

  “Yeah, Sammy?”

  “Can I have a beer?”

  “Are you of legal age to drink alcoholic beverages?” I mused.

  “Well, no.”

  “Then I guess you ain’t having a beer.” I smiled and tossed him a cold one from the cooler next to me.

  “Thanks!” His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “Who’s playing?” Sammy asked as he sat down on the tattered plaid loveseat adjacent to me.

  “The Skins and the Pats,” I told him.

  “Have any money on the game?”

  “Is the sky blue?” I roused.

  “Can I put some money on it, too?”

  I sighed. “Sammy, why do you gotta want to do everything I do, huh?”

  He hung his head and I knew I’d struck a nerve. It was obvious he envied me. He looked up to me. I was his big brother, after all.

  “When you turn eighteen, I’ll take you to put some money on the horses, okay?” Until then, I don’t want ya involved in anything illegal, you here?” I knew the hypocrisy coming from my mouth. The hitman preaching ethics; the irony was not lost on me.

  The phone rang loudly then, and cut Sammy off from responding. “I’ll get it,” he announced. He sprang up a little too quickly and I figured he might have known who was calling the house phone. I told Sammy he could have a cell phone if he paid for it himself, but he didn’t want a job yet.

  “Hello? Yeah, it’s me. I can’t really talk now, do you wanna meet up? Sure, I’ll be there in an hour. See you later, yeah, bye.”

  “Who was that?” I called back while my eyes stayed glued to my sixty-four-inch plasma.

  “Just a friend,” Sammy responded shyly as he put his beer back in the fridge.

  I turned around. “Just a friend, huh? Then why you actin’ so shady?”

  “It’s a girl.” He blushed.

  I chortled, “Ah, okay. Enough said.”

  “Is it okay if I go out for a little while. I think we’re going to the diner.”

  “Why you askin’? You already told the poor girl you’d be there. Can’t bail now!”

  “Thanks, bro. I won’t be gone too late.”

  “You betcha ass you won’t. It’s a school night. And, hey, Sammy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You got yourself some rubbers?” Sammy’s cheeks reddened deeper than an Empire apple in the middle of fall.

  “It’s not like that!” he shrieked.

  I couldn’t help but smile, the kid was so good natured he wouldn't even think of going to hook up with a girl. He’d rather buy her a Coke and some fries, instead.

  “All right, all right. Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I teased. “Make sure to be home by midnight, okay?”

  “No problem. See ya later,” he called out.

  Sammy was a good kid. He was a really good kid.

  4

  Serenity

  “Serenity, you’re late.”

  “I know, Doc. I’m sorry.” I shuffled into the record store, out of breath and wheezing.

  “What gives, huh?” My balding boss asked as he wiped crumbs from his lunch onto his already stained khakis.

  “The bus was runnin’ late. Nothing I could do.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t let it happen again. Okay? I have enough problems around here without needin’ to chase you around.”

  “Understood,” I responded sourly. I needed the job, but it felt like a punishment having to work my typical thirty hours every week. If I wasn’t dealing with Doc feeling me up or giving me trouble, I had to deal with the bratty rich kids trying to steal new records for a thrill. I didn’t let it stop me, though. I needed the money so no one would ask me any questions. Mom’s health was deteriorating from her fall. I saw the pain in her eyes every time she tried to walk or stand. Our world and all the responsibilities had landed on my shoulders.

  “Punch in and then go man the front register,” Doc said.

  “Yes, sir.” I saluted.

  The record store had been around for over twenty years and stood as one of the last businesses in the area not to get robbed or set on fire. I’d gotten the job about a year ago when I was browsing and looking for the newest hip-hop releases of the month. I had noticed a few punks I went to school with try to steal some CDs, and I called ‘em out for it. Nearly got them arrested. Snitching got people in my parts in a heap of trouble, but I didn’t care. I mostly did what I wanted even if that meant suffering the consequences, too. The only code I followed was my own.

  Doc, the greasy owner, had been so grateful, he’d asked if I wanted a job. They were hiring, and I needed a part-time gig once my dealin’ started ramping up. It was perfect timing for both of us. Even though it sucked as far as jobs go, you know, ringing up selfish kids for music their parents paid for, I still enjoyed working here. I had dibs on the newest releases and sales. I listened to a lot of music, mostly hip-hop and rap, though. I knew it was cliché since I grew up in the hood and all, but it’s what I liked.

  “Hey,” a kid called out from behind the counter. I had just finished punching in and walked over to greet him. He had sandy blonde hair and innocent chestnut eyes. I could tell he wasn’t from my end of town.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I’m looking for this album.” He pointed to a picture of an alternative band from the window. I knew the artist and started walking to the back section of the store. The kid followed.

  “I really like your hair,” he said shyly.

  “What? This mess?” I twirled my neon pink locks around my finger, snagging some of my tangles. I silently cursed myself for not washing my hair today.

  “It’s different.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” I asked with narrowed eyes.

  “It definitely is. Girls don’t look like you where I go to school.”

  “And where would that be?” I sorted through one row of CDs trying to find his request.

  “I go to East.”

  I snickered. “Well, that’s obvious.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re clean, you don’t have any piercings or tats, and no scars. You’re definitely not from West.”

  “Is that where you’re from?”

  “What gave that away?” I handed him the CD he’d been after and his eyes lit up.

  “Thank you so much!”

  “No problem, kid.” We walked back to the register.

  “I’m not a kid, you know?”

  “What?”

  “You called me kid. I’m almost seventeen.”

  I burst out laughing. “Own it. It’s not a bad thing to be a kid. Once you’re an adult it’s all downhill from there.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Why don’t you want to tell me?” he asked curiously.

  “Touché. It’s Serenity.”

  “That’s a really pretty name.”

  “My parents did a lot of acid before I was born.” I snickered. “What’s your name?”

  “Sammy,” he said shyly.

  “Sammy, huh?”

  “Yep. That’s me.”

  “Make sure you stay out of trouble, okay?”

  “Why? Do you get into trouble?” he asked.

  “What? Is that some kind of pick-up line?”

  “No. I kind of have a girlfriend,” he said innocently. “At least, I think I do.”

  “Ain�
��t she a lucky gal.” I winked.

  Then, a petite blonde girl sporting a black and red cheerleading uniform came in and looked around impatiently.

  Sammy noticed her and beckoned her over to the counter.

  “Serenity, this is my, uh, girlfriend, Cheryl. Cheryl, this is Serenity.”

  She sneered at me and I already knew her type.

  “Are you ready to go, Sammy? Everyone’s waiting for us at the diner.”

  “Cute.”

  Sammy must have sensed the tension between me and Cheryl, so he thanked me quickly and they left. I wondered what it must be like to have friends you meet up with after school for burgers and fries. I’d never had any real friends in high school and I didn’t have many now. In fact, talking to Sammy might have been the only conversation I’d had with anyone apart from my mom in weeks. I didn’t really consider selling drugs to town slime balls meaningful encounters.

  I hoped Sammy would come back to the store soon. In the meantime, I’d have to finish my shift and then head to the bar to push my new shipment. Five more hours until I’d bust outta this record store and make some real money.

  5

  Wayne

  After the football game, Sammy hadn’t come back yet, so I decided to head to Mickey’s for another beer. I’d already had four or five, but thought I’d enjoy a few more.

  The humidity accosted me as I stepped outside the apartment and it took me a few moments to catch my breath. A storm had to be coming. At least, I hoped it would. Clear the air.

  I walked down our dead-end road to the main street in town: Evergreen Street. I heard cats fussing, couples fightin’ and bass stereo systems boomed in the distance. Many might think this part of town was a waste, filled with trash. And while those people would be mostly right, it had its charm.

  I’d lived on this side of town my entire life. I grew up playing street hockey, making sure to run once I heard bullets peppering the area in a drive-by. I grew up stealing chocolate bars from the corner store because I knew my pops would have spent his paycheck on the horses. I grew up doing my own laundry because Ma was always too fucked up to know where we put the detergent.

  It was like I raised myself. For the most part, I did.

  “Ay, Wayne!” my buddy Danny called from across the bar.

  “What’s happenin’, bud?”

  “Not much. You watch the game?”

  “Yeah. Another blow out.”

  “You said it. Hey, can I buy you a shot?”

  “I don’t know, man. I’m trying to cut back a little,” I lied. I absolutely wanted a shot, but I didn’t want to get smashed. I wanted to be in the right state of mind in case something happened to Sammy while he was out. Of course, this wasn’t the kind of excuse I wanted the whole bar to know about. I had a reputation to keep up.

  “Ah, come on!”

  “Next time. But, you can buy me a Blue.”

  “All right. Hey!” Danny hollered to the bartender. She’d been the bartender ever since I started going to Mickey’s when I was still underage.

  “How ya doin’, Sarah?”

  “Good, and you?” Her evergreen eyes glowed with desire which I ignored as I always did. Last thing I needed was a fling with my favorite bartender to go sour.

  “Not bad. Hopin’ for a storm to come. Break up the humidity.”

  “It is hot, isn’t it?” she asked as she opened my bottle of beer with her tits nearly popping out of her tank top.

  I nodded and sipped my cold Blue. I wondered how Sammy was doing this very moment. Was he still at the diner? Did they go to the movies? Was he alone with that girl in her car? I probably worried too much, but I couldn’t help it. Sammy wasn’t just my little brother, I viewed him as my son, too. When he was born, our mom had a bad case of postpartum depression and she wouldn’t even hold Sam for months. She’d sulk in her bedroom, watched TV, and asked that I take care of Sammy, my little brother, my charge.

  I didn’t have a choice. Of course, I wanted to be doing anything else besides babysitting, but I stayed home most days and nights for my kid brother. Before his fifth-grade graduation, I’d planned to adopt him as soon as I could and told our parents to fuck off.

  I couldn’t stand by and watch them fail as parents all over again. They failed me, but I wouldn't let them fail Sammy, too.

  “Hello? Earth to Wayne?” Danny slurred.

  I pushed his grimy hands out of my face.

  “You daydreaming about Sarah?” he teased.

  I punched him in the arm this time. “Can it.”

  He chuckled and ordered two more beers.

  “Oh, look who it is,” he whispered.

  I turned around, not entirely sure who I’d be looking for. “Huh?”

  “Over there. The chick with the pink hair.”

  I focused in on the girl Danny referred to. I’d seen her around plenty of times. Hard to miss her with that fuchsia hair screaming for attention.

  “What about her?” I said as I turned back around.

  “She’s a drug dealer,” Danny said.

  I looked back at the girl again; there’s no way she pushed drugs. She looked rebellious sure, but she barely stood at five feet five and she looked tinier than the girls Sammy brought home for play dates in middle school. No way she was tough enough to deal.

  “You gotta be mistaken, man.” I shook my head.

  “Yes way, man. I bought an eight ball of coke from her a few nights ago.”

  I narrowed my eyes toward Danny. He had to be kidding, right?

  “Maybe you had one too many drinks and thought you bought the powder from her, Danny.”

  “No, no. I’m telling you, Wayne. It was her. She comes here a lot and pushes. No idea how she hasn’t gotten caught up in any bad shit yet. Or, maybe she has. I dunno.”

  I started ignoring Danny. He was already drunk, anyway. He must be imagining things.

  “I’m going to take a leak. Get me another beer, would ya?”

  “Yeah, all right,” Danny said.

  I stood and made my way to the bathrooms. I saw the girl with the pink hair watching me as I approached her. Her floral and sweet perfume provided a pleasant reprieve from the sweat and grunge from the regulars.

  Inches away, my heart pounded with curiosity.

  Who are you, girl? What are you doing in a place like this?

  Just before I walked past her, she stuck her arm out, preventing me from moving any further.

  “Hey,” she whispered seductively. “You seem like a guy who likes to have a little fun.”

  6

  Serenity

  Mickey’s had always provided the perfect spot to hang out, drink, and sell drugs. No one bothered me there. No one ever ratted me out. Of course, I did my part and made sure I didn’t cause any trouble either.

  The bartenders knew what I was up to, but never said a word. I kept many of their regulars coming back night after night and I kept them there till closing time. Mickey’s should give me a cut of their profits considering I’d brought in most of their customers.

  I hoped tonight proved to be fruitful. Ma had another doctor’s appointment next week and needed to get an MRI on her hip. Who knows how much that would set us back. Just the thought urged bile up my throat.

  If I’d gone to college life would’ve turned out differently? If I’d picked a better career, I could have gotten Ma and me out of this Godforsaken place? Maybe, maybe, maybe. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right?

  Instead, I’m still here, selling records and pushing coke.

  I took my usual spot at a high-top table and nodded to Sarah, the bartender, for my usual drink, a Long Island Iced Tea. It was my drink of choice; it was cheap and got the job done.

  I noticed a few heads turned in my direction when I walked in. I hoped that meant they were buying. One guy, in particular, caught my eye, though. He had salt and pepper hair and a killer beard. His gray eyes were what truly took my breath away, though; they looked sad and almost tortured. I knew thi
s because I saw the same type of eyes when I looked in the mirror.

  Half of me wished he’d want to buy so I could talk to him, but the other half of me hoped he wasn’t into drugs. I already knew too many cokeheads around the Lane.

  He got up from his stool and walked in my direction. My pulse quickened, and my hands started to sweat.

  What is wrong with me?

  Men never made me nervous, but part of me yearned for this man, this stranger. I wanted to reach out and touch him. And, that’s exactly what I did.

  “Hey. You seem like a guy who likes to have a little fun.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I held out my hand. “I’m Serenity.” He looked down to my hand and didn’t extend his in return. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Are you new to town?”

  He cleared his throat and finally shook my hand. “I’m Wayne and no I’ve lived here for most of my life.”

  “Strange. I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Well, I don’t go out that often,” he said quickly.

  “Understandable,” I said not knowing what else to say or what to do next.

  An awkward silence blanketed over the conversation and what could have been thirty seconds, felt like thirty minutes. Wayne kept looking down to his shoes, but I wanted him to look at me. I wanted to look into his steel eyes. I wanted to know him.

  “You want some coke?” I blurted out and instantly regretted it.

  “Aren’t you a little too young to be pushing the hard stuff, kid?”

  Kid. He actually called me ‘kid.’ My ego might never recover, and I felt my cheeks redden to the likes of my rose-colored locks.

  “Not really, but thanks, Dad,” I emphasized the last word, hoping to sting him back in return.