by RJ
“Okay, what do you want to know?”
“What are you doing here? A twenty-two year old studying along with twenty year olds.”
“I applied late. I also traveled. After graduating school. A lot,” she said sadly. “I have a confession to make. The first couple of years were painful without you. How could you leave me then? After everything.”
“We were kids. Nothing was there. Children's lives don’t matter,” JB commented ironically.
“It’s not true! You were my best friend! My only friend. You promised to be there for me. Don’t you dare tell me that it didn’t matter!”
El got into a fuss. JB tried to lower the pressure.
“I had to go. I couldn’t take that no more. Who could know that betta than you?”
“You mean, living with your family? Yes, I didn’t understand that at the time,” El looked at him remorsefully. “Have you stayed in touch?”
“No. Not once. Never,” for a brief moment JB’s face gained a micro-expression of suppressed anger.
“I’ve seen your brother couple times over the years. He told me about himself and your father. Do you want to know?”
The conversation got on thin ice. JB stalled for a second, then he snorted and looked aside.
“Thirteen years I spent overseas, trying to forget, and now it’s all coming back.”
El stopped pressing. She decided to change the subject.
“So how are you doing now? Seeing anyone? A wife? Girlfriend?”
JB wriggled and shook his head.
“I tried to keep a dog once… Nothing good came out of that.”
“Friends?”
“Yeah, I used to have a few,” JB smiled. “Most of them are dead by now. Some of the others tried to kill me. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
After a short laugh at another joke, as El thought of it, she relaxed. Their looks met.
“I’m so glad to see you.”
“You don’t know who I am anymore.”
The talk appeared much more sensitive than JB expected.
“I want to get to know each other. Don’t you?”
“Me? I don’t know. Aren’t you concerned that you may not like what you might find out there?”
“I’m sure it’s going to be fine. We have to try anyway,” she laid her hand on his cheek. “Everyone needs someone who can be trusted.”
JB said nothing. Those words reminded him Tyris and Big Dog, who both had died because of him. He experienced bad luck with close ones. It changed a lot of his attitude towards life.
The lunch came to its end, along with the conversation. A couple of hours flew. JB and El talked about lots of things, but he never actually told her about his past or about the plans for the future.
“I would like you to join us for a trip to Hollywood. I suppose it’s not new for you, but still,” she said.
“Going on a trip with a group of strangers… I don’t know.”
“Come on, some of the guys you already know: Alex, Vova, Vitaliy. And you’ve met Eugene…” they both laughed. “Besides after today you might already be the most popular among all of us. I think they like you.”
“Yeah, that was quite a show, wasn’t it?” JB smirked. “Still, I don’t know. You think I should?”
“There’s plenty room, think about it. You have to decide within the week.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” he said. “Let’s go, I’ll give you a lift home.”
Of course, a part of JB wanted to spend a good time on vacation, but something felt wrong. In fact, he had an extremely flexible threshold for ‘wrong,' considering his criminal experience. But there, in Ukraine, lots of things seemed to conflict with morality. Too many elements were missing the balance. The country was poor, but luxury cars could be found everywhere, nightclubs were full of unhealthy rich youth. And people overall seemed to have an unnatural appetite for expensive things. Lies and deception spread everywhere, and everyone knew that. Yet, people just kept pretending that nothing was happening.
A war was on. JB hadn’t understood details of it before he came to Ukraine. It seemed like a well fit cover for the moment, but it was nothing as he thought it was. Everything about that war was a lie: the motive, the government, the enemy… The only pure thing were people. But what could he know about that war? He just used the leftovers of the country that was alien to him.
Ukraine was full of crime, every bit of it sunk in it. Back in America it seemed simpler. He was a part of the crime machine there. But in Kiev Bridgers wouldn’t even know where to begin. When he saw a girl on the street dressed in a nice outfit, there was never telling whether her wealth was dirty or not. Too confusing for a man that didn’t belong. JB was tired of the lies.
The time was late. The Escalade rolled through Kiev. JB and El arrived in downtown. It was full of prestigious houses and gorgeous automobiles. The contrast in comparison to less wealthy neighborhoods was excessively saturated.
The SUV came to one of the new high-rise buildings. El lived there. JB parked the car in front. The concierge appeared in the window, he took a good look at the unfamiliar vehicle. JB turned to El.
“We’re here.”
“Yes. I guess it’s time to say goodbye,” she pronounced quietly, somewhat uncertainly even.
The girl pulled the handle to open the door.
“Have a good night, El,” JB said.
El smiled at him and gently stepped out of the car. She almost closed it up, but her hand stopped. A brief moment later she opened the door back to look inside the car.
“Do you want to…” the words came out on their own. She took a deep breath. “Maybe, you want to come in?”
“Think it’s a good idea?”
“Yes, I suppose…”
“Okay, just hold on a minute. I need to park the whip somewhere.”
El smiled in return and closed the door for good.
JB wasn’t surprised by such an invitation. He had thought that he would deny and leave. But the consent rendered by itself. All those dim feelings from the past were echoing deep inside of him. El and he were best friends long years ago. That had vanished from his memory, but somehow it was coming back. The space and time of separation deform the real feelings between people. One person idealizes another, forgetting the bad things and turning right ones into warmth to keep in their heart forever. When JB was around El he didn’t want to plan anything ahead, he just wanted to be with her, no matter where it might take him.
The truck was parked. JB went to El, who waited for him on the sidewalk. It looked almost hard for her to idle with all those heavy notes and books in her bag that she held. She was unconsciously tapping her heel on the ground. As soon as JB came close she stopped.
“Let me,” he said reaching for her bag with his open hand.
All she was left to carry was a light jacket. The weight seemed nothing to JB. It was the first time El took a fresh look at him. From the moment they had met earlier all she saw was her old ‘kid friend,' as she remembered him. Now she stared at an adult man. Handsome, strong, and independent. His style was weird for the place: wide jeans, cheap t-shirt, the du-rag, the cap and the jewels. But it wouldn’t make less of him anymore. It felt like for the first time that day she saw him for real.
JB smiled at the girl as a signal to go ahead. They strolled towards the door.
“Hello, El,” a curious concierge spoke.
“Hello, Uncle Max,” she answered smiling.
The apartment of hers was on the eighth floor. They came to the door and JB returned the bag to El. She started to search for keys. It took some time.
“Aren’t your parents home?” Bridgers asked.
“No, they are on a business trip. They aren’t coming back for a month,” she replied sadly.
“Do they leave you alone often?”
“Yes, quite so lately.”
“That’s why you wanna go on that trip so badly?”
“Spending that much time alone f
reaks me out.”
“Because of the war?”
“Because of the past…” she said and looked at him as if he would know what she meant.
Finally, the search was complete, El found the keys. As a matter of habit, after entering inside, JB briefly checked the hallway. He closed the door and locked it with both locks. The girl went ahead but suddenly stopped, turned around and moved back to him. She came close looking into his eyes. Her look seemed uncertain to the man. El reached out behind him to get to the light switch. The place got lit.
“That’s better,” she said and moved back.
As soon as El walked into her apartment she felt safe and comfy. She put her jacket on the hanger and left the bag on the floor near the wardrobe. Her shoes went to the rest, in the shoe case. Then she returned to Jerry, who was joyfully watching her every movement.
“Come in, don’t be shy. You make yourself at home,” she smiled. “You may look around now; I’ll make us some tea.”
JB nodded in return. She playfully walked to the kitchen arc.
The living room, where JB stayed, was quite large. It had light tones, beautiful furniture, and a widescreen TV on the wall. The apartment had many, excessively spacious rooms. El’s family was obviously wealthy.
JB didn’t rush to take off his shoes. It was an old habit of his when coming to a new place. He noticed a designer rack with a bunch of photos. Each shelf had several frames on it. There was El’s family, friends, classmates, lots and lots of memories. Eugene was on one of them, with El kissing him on a cheek. But then he found the one he would never expect to see. That was an old photo from their childhood, where El and Jerry were playing in the school theater.
His feelings got mixed up when JB picked up that frame. A shadow of a lost life appeared before his eyes. His whole teenhood that was taken from him by the cold Los Angeles streets.
“You saved it,” he said quietly.
She came to him in perfect silence from behind. But he knew that she was coming from the very first step.
“Sure I did. It was our first play, remember?” she put her arms around his shoulders from behind.
“It felt real,” still keeping the image, Bridgers turned to her.
“It was real.”
They kept the eye contact, El held her hands on JB’s wide shoulders. A spark flashed between them. El slowly moved her lips toward his. She had to shift up on her toes to reach that high. JB didn’t rush it, he still was in doubt. But when El closed her eyes and moved tightly, he threw away second thoughts and kissed her.
The first touch was light, uncertain, after a moment the movement began growing. Their lips played out in passion. El’s hands were moving down from the shoulders to his shoulder blades, then even lower, to the waistline. Time stopped for them, it felt magical. The girl's fingers hugged JB’s back and kept shifting until they got where they were not supposed to. JB felt it. El found the gun behind his back.
Bridgers was the first one to stop. El followed a moment after. The girl opened her eyes to see that he was staring at her. She moved away a bit, but her hand was still there. Her mind wouldn’t recognize the weapon at once, she needed some more time to process it. But that wasn’t a touch that gave her an understanding, it was JB’s look. His face was telling that she shouldn’t have done that.
After a few uncomfortable seconds, Bridgers moved his hands from her waist. El did the same. He turned around to take a step towards the door. The girl froze, she didn’t know how to react. Jerry halfway turned back to her.
“I betta go,” he said.
“Jerry, what does it mean?” she stepped towards him.
“It was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have.”
“You shouldn't have what? Come here? Or brought a gun to my home?”
The gangster opened the door and held it for the last time before leaving.
“You should keep away from me. You all should…”
JB went on, he closed the door to not see her anymore, as it was shameful for him. He would never come back there.
Two weeks passed. A spring break before the annual exams came. El’s group planned a trip to LA for that time. JB was invited to come along, but he couldn’t decide until the very last moment. He had accepted, though. It felt like a call from his hunch that he had to do that. Also, it was a perfect cover for him to come back to the USA. No one would suspect him being with that group.
The day of departure came. The flight was scheduled at twelve a.m. sharp. Everyone had to meet at terminal ‘D’ of Borispol Airport two hours before the flight. It was about that time. The group gathered up, just a couple of people were missing. JB included. Some of them considered him skipping the trip at that point, so they moved to the registration area.
Full of doubts and confusion JB was sitting in the VIP-bar for the last three hours. He wasn’t fond of places like that. Felt too smug to him, but it was quiet. Surrounded by about a dozen businessmen the gangster quietly raised the flask as if he would drink to them.
The news was on TV. The war again. At least in that bar they were showing a more or less trustworthy channel. JB didn’t care much for that, though. Somehow he didn’t care much for anything. Just turning a shiny flask in his hands. It had been a while since he had put on his biker sports pants. Also, he was dressed in a dim white t-shirt with torn off sleeves. The red leather ‘Converse All-Star’ and the white gold diamond chain and earrings were on him. The jewels took away that impression of cheapness from the rest of his outfit.
One thing JB noticed was funny about the place was that every new customer that entered tried to take a seat away from him. The thug looked intimidating compared to the rest of the visitors.
Time passed and Bridgers kept sitting there alone with his thoughts. He had decided to go along with the trip but wasn’t sure yet whether he was going to come back. The closer the flight was the stronger a need for the return to LA grew. But he didn’t want his old life anymore, he wanted something entirely new. Something that was worthy of living.
When the drink ran out, he pulled a clip of dollar bills from his pocket to leave one on the bar.
“A gift from the establishment, sir,” a bartender said, passing a branded gas lighter to JB.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate that.”
He thoroughly scanned the item and shoved it into the pocket.
“Wow! That’s a lot of money!” a girl’s voice sounded from behind. “Who’re you? A hitman or something? What’s your name?”
JB looked at a young teenager about fourteen years old. She took a seat next to him. She was pretty. The dark skin of a caramel shade, a well-shaped face, full lips, dark, thick hair, and she was rather tall for a girl. She wore colored jeans, a white-pinkish hoodie, and light sneakers. The gangster smiled, nodding his head slightly. The girl seemed cute to him.
“The last time a woman walked on me like that I ended up lying with two bullets in my chest,” JB said when hiding his money pack.
“My name is Mia,” she reached with a hand for a shake him. “Are you gonna tell me your name?”
“JB," he shook it.
Bridgers looked around to find some hint of where that kid might have come from.
“So, a woman shot you, JB? Huh?”
“No, a couple of douchebags, who worked with her, were doing the shooting.”
“Why did they need to use a woman at all, then?”
“So I would take off the vest.”
“And why didn’t just go for the head?”
“Because they were idiots.”
He made an emphasis on the word ‘were’ to scare the girl off, but it seemed to drive her interest even more.
“Can I see the scars? Do they look like this one?” she pointed at the long scar on his neck.
Meanwhile, JB noticed an adult woman that looked like Mia. She was in a company of a well-dressed man, but it seemed as they had just met. JB assumed that he started to understand what was going on.
“What do your ta
ttoos mean?” Mia asked.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he said.
“Doing wrong what?” she fidgeted.
“Your plan ain’t gonna work,” he sipped from the flask. “You’re here to manipulate your mom, right? Thought that you’d find a guy that looks like… well, me. And make a show where she could watch you right from that table.”
Seeing as JB nodded at the table where the mulatto woman and the man were, Mia exhaled sadly.
“If you wanna make your mom really nervous, you need a different approach.”
“What, are you an expert or something?”
“In irritation? Oh, yes.”
“Prove it!”
“Several thousand men wish to see my head off, back in LA, and most of them have never met me.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“The first thing: drop the rebel look. Sneakers, torn jeans, hoodie, all these colors… This look shows that you’d choose comfort instead of sexiness. It brings mothers some peace of mind about their daughters. The second: you chose the wrong type to use,” he nodded at the mirror behind the bar at himself. “A big, dirty brute like me, with all those tattoos and shit? Really? It’s too obvious. The girl never comes to a guy like me first, unless she is severely disturbed. And your mother knows for sure that you’re not. She would never buy it.”
“So who should I pick?”
“You need a worm. Someone skinny, short, wearing a suit, probably. About thirty years old. With that slyish smile, you know?”
“Oh, I know. That slyish smile…” Mia confirmed. “Those smiley bastards,” her face was half way disgusted already. “It’s making me sick already.”
“Exactly. Try to imagine the look on your mom’s face when she sees you in that cheap dress with cleavage and your knees naked, sitting in the company of a guy like that. She would jet after you the moment she saw that.”
“Wow, that was heavy. Anything else?” Mia took it pretty seriously, practically taking notes in her head.
“Yeah, couple things. You’re taking too much initiative. Talk too much and too confident. The ‘worms’ are afraid of that, but it brings peace to mothers. Try to giggle more, put on that dumb grin to complete the look.”
