Livin' After Midnight

by Tom Nelson

  Tom loves being among bikers. He loves riding. He hates himself.

  1996

  Tom gets home from a long night of slinging dope and banging bitches when he runs into one of his neighbors. The guy is heading out to work but takes a moment to speak with Tom. Brad, never one to mince words, hits Tom with some pretty heavy stuff this morning.

  “How long ya gonna keep doin’ this shit to yourself?” he asks candidly.

  Brad, Tom learned from previous chats, is from Kentucky and speaks with a heavy Southern accent. It reminds Tom of his family back in Georgia and how far removed from them he is now. Tom barely communicates with his family anymore. He’s the black sheep. Only his mother and sister seem to have kept their faith in Tom. And while they speak occasionally, it’s certainly not often.

  “What ya talkin’ about?” Tom responds with his own question.

  “You know what I’m talkin’ about,” Brad continues, “doin’ drugs and partyin’ all the time.”

  “I don’t know,” comes Tom’s reply as he wonders where this conversation is going. “What else is there?” Tom asks.

  “Well,” Brad says, “there’s sobriety.”

  Tom just looks at him as if he’s speaking Greek. He’s familiar with the definition of the word sobriety but has never known anyone who is sober, so the concept is foreign to Tom. In fact, until this conversation, Tom just assumed that everyone uses drugs or alcohol to some extent or another.

  “I don’t know exactly what you mean,” Tom says stupidly.

  “You know,” Brad goes on, “not using drugs and alcohol, and gettin’ your shit together.”

  “Yeah?” Tom asks with a little laugh.

  “Yeah,” his neighbor repeats Tom’s response sarcastically. “I’m going to a meeting later. I’d like for you to go with me.” The man looks at Tom with compassion. Brad has been in Tom’s shoes before but managed to find clarity eight years earlier. “I’ll come by your apartment around six thirty.”

  “Okay,” Tom says, “whatever.” This conversation changes his life forever.

  ~~~

  Tom is on the phone with King talking about Johnny getting busted recently. King manages to stay out of prison somehow and now has almost a year of sobriety, with the exception of weed, which he still smokes. King has three children with a beautiful white woman, has quit the coke and gangster games, and cleaned up his act. He is one of the fortunate few who survive the life and make it to the other side, but he still stays in contact with his friends.

  “They used the battering ram on da nigga’s place,” King is telling Tom. “Busted da whole fuckin’ wall down!”

  “Well,” Tom says, “that’s the way they do shit nowadays. DEA don’t knock!”

  “Yeah, well,” King continues, “at least he had some money put away so he can maybe afford a lawyer. Most niggas don’t save shit! How ’bout you, man? You got a ’mergency stash?”

  “Yeah,” Tom says. He only hopes he has enough money saved when the time comes. Tom knows it’s only a matter of time before he gets busted. It’s all part of the life he has chosen for himself. “Maybe Johnny will use this time to clean his shit up and settle down.”

  “I hope so,” King says, “I sure hope so.”

  “Me too,” Tom agrees.

  “What about you, Tom-Tom? You ever gonna quit the game?”

  “Shit,” Tom replies in an exasperated voice, “I can’t now.” He has taken a few too many steps up the ladder to come back down. He is working for people who take their safety and security very seriously. They are having him followed, for god’s sake. “I’m in this shit for life, King. I don’t get to give two weeks’ notice and quit.”

  Tom can hear his friend on the other end of the line take a deep breath and let it out slowly. King understands Tom’s situation. Although he still knows nothing about where Tom scores all of his incredible cocaine, King understands that Tom is in too deep to simply walk away. The two street thugs who attempted to jack Tom in December of ’92 ended up dead. Their photos were shown on the evening news during the report of their grisly gangland-style execution. Tom knew right then that there was no way out for him besides death or prison.

  “You right,” King admits.

  “I know I am,” Tom says matter-of-factly. “Them motherfuckers will kill me in a heartbeat!”

  “You right,” King repeats. That’s all he could say. He understands that Tom is in for life.

  “You heard from Biggie lately?” Tom asks, changing the subject. Biggie is still in prison for his part in the drive-by shooting eight years earlier.

  “Yeah, man,” King says. “Who knew da nigga could write so well?” Biggie always seemed a little slow. But, as King and Tom both know, there is a brilliant mind and a huge heart inside Biggie. He is a loyal friend.

  “I know, huh?” Tom agrees. “I get a letter from him every couple of months and try to send him a money order when I think of it.”

  “Same here.” Inmates in the California Department of Corrections (CDC) are only allowed to receive money in the form of money orders, which are processed and placed in an inmate’s account. From this account, an inmate is able to purchase things from the prison store. So, Biggie’s friends make sure he’s doing okay on the inside.

  “Biggie should write a story about his life,” Tom says.

  “Shit, Tom-Tom, we all should!” King fires back. “We all should!”

  ~~~

  Tom is riding on the Willow Springs track in an amateur race. His bike is laid over so far that sparks are flying up behind him in a sort of rooster tail. He rounds a turn and straightens up as he comes to a long straightaway and lays on the gas. His built-for-the-track Kawasaki is superfast! He loves to feel the power of the motorcycle between his legs as he flies 145 mph down the track. He has been working on his lap times and straightaway speeds and feels pretty good about his performance today.

  “Wheeeeww!” Tom shouts as he removes his helmet in the pit. He is the second of five riders to come into the pit in this race. All of these guys are adrenaline junkies and are out here solely for the fun of it. No fans. No sponsors. Just a helluvalot of fun!

  “Pretty good today, Tom!” the rider who comes in first shouts over. He is off his bike now and getting out of some of his gear. If you aren’t hauling ass, the California desert heat can be too much to bear with full gear on. All five men are wearing safety leather with skid pads, heavy duty racing boots, gloves, and Department of Transportation approved helmets. This is no joke! Fuck up out here and you probably won’t make it home for dinner.

  “Yeah, man,” one of the other racers chimes in, “surprised the hell outta me when you passed me in that last turn.” Tom had barely beaten him out for second place today.

  “I felt good out there today,” Tom responds. These are his other friends. They aren’t friends in the way that Johnny, King, and Biggie are his friends, but Tom hangs out with these guys because they enjoy pushing their limits as much as he does.

  “Looked calmer too,” the first rider to speak, his friend Bruce, chimes in again. “Very comfortable in the corners.”

  “Thanks, Bruce,” Tom responds, “I’m learning a lot riding with you guys!” He met a couple of these guys during a Superbike course that taught them how to do everything from cruise to crash. They have all laid a bike down at least once.

  The five men head to the locker room, talking about motorcycles the whole time. A couple of them change into their riding-home clothes, but three stay in their leathers. Tom likes to ride in jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes during the hotter months. Leather is too stifling for him in the blistering Southern California heat. They say their goodbyes and each man rides off in the direction of home.

  These guys are dentists and accountants. They would probably shit their pants if they ever found out what Tom does for a living. He laughs and pulls the big GPZ 1100 into a wheelie as he hauls ass toward home.

  Tom wonders how much longer he will manage to stay ahead of
the cops. The business is changing. Los Angeles is changing. It’s not the same town it was fifteen years ago, that’s for sure!

  1997

  Sobriety sucks! Tom thinks as his head clears from the punch he just received to his face. He has a splitting headache from all the punches he’s endured this evening. He wouldn’t be feeling any of this right now though if he were high! What he wouldn’t do for a fat joint packed with cocaine right now!

  The big steroid-freak cop finally mellows out and stops punching Tom but is still gloating. He seems extremely pleased with himself and can’t stop grinning at Tom as he inventories the drugs recovered in the bust.

  As he sits handcuffed to a chair listening to the cops congratulating each other on busting him, Tom considers the road that lies ahead. He will probably be convicted easily on such a slam-dunk case and receive the maximum sentences possible. He is a career criminal, he realizes. He’s been doing crazy shit all his life. Now, his life will probably end in prison.

  Tom wonders where everything went so wrong for his life to lead him here: cuffed to a chair, beaten up, and facing life in prison. He thinks back to simpler times and remembers the Valentine’s card he received from Lori when they were kids. It makes him smile.

  His thoughts turn to Red and the good times they shared. Despite the lives the two were living during their time together, Tom has nothing but beautiful memories of her. He had fun with Red, and she will always have a special place in his heart. He wonders if he will ever stop missing her.

  This is my way out, runs through Tom’s head as he comes back to reality, my only way out. I will be sentenced to twenty-five years to life under the Three Strikes law and spend the rest of my life in prison. I will no longer be a menace to society.

  It really is a fucked-up way to get out of a job! It would be funny, he thinks, if it weren’t true.

  ~~~

  Tom’s neighbor, Brad, has become a great friend and mentor to Tom as he gets sober and looks for a way out of his career. It takes him a while to fully wrap his head around the fact that Tom can’t just quit his job, but Brad eventually learns to accept it as part of his new friend’s journey.

  Both men understand it’s just a matter of time until Tom gets busted, and they openly discuss that reality. Tom knows that when he is arrested for drug trafficking, possession, or sales, any money found will be confiscated by the narcs. So, he has been putting money in a safe deposit box for safekeeping. Tom adds his new sober friend to the list of people who can access the box. That list contains two names: Tom and Brad. Tom understands how fortunate he is to have someone he can trust with such large sums of money.

  ~~~

  Tom fights the drug case but knows he doesn’t stand a chance of winning. He has an amazing team of attorneys working for him, but the narcs have a valid search warrant for his apartment and find exactly what they are looking for. Hell, he considers, I would convict myself on that evidence!

  Fortunately for Tom, his apartment is raided as he is running low on drugs, so the amount found is not large enough to charge him with trafficking. And the cops never find the gun he keeps holstered underneath his car, so he doesn’t have to deal with the penalties for that. But he is still facing life in prison under California’s Three Strikes law.

  The district attorney assigned to his case wants to put Tom away for the rest of his life. Her specialties are high-profile murders and taking career criminals like Tom off the streets forever. And she’s good at it!

  On a day that Tom should be facing this DA in court, however, she is occupied with a high-profile murder case that takes priority over Tom’s drug case. She is called away to another court. An assistant DA is sent in her stead with specific instructions to ask for a continuance. That’s it.

  Tom’s attorneys take advantage of the situation and convince the judge to work out a second-strike deal where Tom is sentenced to eight years in prison with the possibility for parole after serving 80 percent of his sentence.

  His high-dollar attorneys earned their money on this case! Their mission from the beginning has been to keep Tom from being sentenced as a three striker, which means twenty-five years to life in prison. He will die in prison with that sentence!

  Tom will serve the next six years in prison. Not life.

  It’s a wonderful day!

  Epilogue

  For Kelly,

  who inspires me to this day.

  2009

  Tom, now in his late forties, arrives on a Harley-Davidson Street Glide. He parks, removes his helmet, and walks to the edge of a Malibu cliff. He had spread Red’s ashes here nearly twenty years earlier. Tom is dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and a light jacket. He’s wearing comfortable shoes because he knows he will be on his feet all day. It’s a little windy in Malibu today, and he thinks of the day he let Red’s ashes fly away from this cliff. He sighs.

  ~~~

  Tom didn’t snitch on the Peruvians he worked for, so he is allowed to live peacefully after his release on parole in 2003. Of course, Manuel tries to talk him into the security job again, which Tom promptly refuses.

  Johnny serves three years of a four-year sentence for possession of cocaine with the intent to sell. Afterward, he moves back to the community where he once sold crack in South-Central LA and is doing community outreach. Apparently, Johnny Dollar was living up to his name and stashing quite a bit of money during his crack days.

  King and his lady have five beautiful kids now!

  Biggie serves an additional four years in prison for his participation in a race war between the blacks and the southern Mexicans for domination of the yard. He moves to Mississippi to be with his mom’s family, following his release from a California prison.

  Tom tries not to think of the evening ahead of him. He is scheduled to speak to a group of recovering addicts, at-risk youth, and any other derelicts who happen to stumble into the auditorium throughout the evening. Tom will be one of three speakers tonight. It’s not the first time these three have been asked to speak at the same event, and it won’t be the last. They seem to have a certain dynamic together. Their stories are completely different yet exactly the same, if that makes sense.

  Juan, now forty-eight, is a skinny ex-heroin addict from East LA that has tattoos everywhere you can see skin. His head of dark hair is combed straight back and his brush mustache combed straight down. His jeans are a little higher than normal, and he wears boots that look similar to those issued by the CDCR. He looks like he just walked off a prison yard, Tom thinks with a chuckle every time he sees Juan. Tom has tons of respect for the other man, however, and is always humbled by Juan’s story.

  At the age of nine, Juan’s mother died from a heroin overdose. Whether it was intentional or accidental, no one ever really knew. Juan was left with his heroin addict father as a parent. At age eleven, Juan’s father introduced him to heroin. By age twelve, Juan was a full-blown heroin addict, which was his father’s intention. The boy would be sent into stores to steal anything his father could sell for more heroin to support their addictions.

  Juan’s father ended up in prison after a botched armed robbery and young Juan’s fate was left for the state of California to decide. After several foster homes, he ended up joining a gang. Juan sold drugs of every type and stole cars to sell to chop shops for money. As a result of that lifestyle, he ended up in and out of prison for decades.

  Now, however, at age forty-eight, Juan has ten years of sobriety and is able to stand in front of audiences and tell his amazing story. It’s always eye-opening for Tom to hear Juan’s story.

  As horrible as that childhood sounds though, the third speaker of the group makes Tom feel as though his life has been a walk in the park. Her story makes Tom think of Red and brings tears to his eyes every time he hears it.

  At age eleven, Molly’s crackhead father began molesting her. It wasn’t long after that, her crackhead mother got in on the action and began molesting her daughter right along with the father. A sick, twisted threesome
!

  By the age of thirteen, Molly was being pimped out to anyone who would pay to fuck her, so her drug-addicted parents could continue to smoke crack! This story makes Tom sad, of course, but also gives him pangs of guilt because he had been a part of the crack problem for so many years.

  Molly is a true Irish girl with medium-length, blondish-red hair and slight curls. Her green eyes accent her freckled face beautifully. Molly is a good-looking woman at age forty-four, although her hard life is obvious on her face. She looks her age. Her warm, friendly smile matches her personality, however, which is in total contrast to what her earlier years had been like. How does someone go through all of that, Tom often asks himself, and come out on the other side such a wonderful person?

  ~~~

  Tom’s story is simple. His parents had some pretty big issues in their marriage, and his father took it out on him by whipping his ass. Spare the rod and spoil the child! Juan and Molly had lives that were so extreme that most people have trouble relating to them. Unfortunately, Tom’s story is pretty common. A lot of people—male, female, black, white, straight, gay, or whoever—can easily relate to Tom. Almost everyone in these audiences has been smacked around by their dads or someone else in a position of authority in their lives.

  Tom closes his eyes and thinks of the times he and Red had spent together. The day that he saw her in the supermarket and she accepted his invitation to get laid. Tom laughs at the arrogance of his youth. Red used to give him shit over his offer all the time. But, as Tom would point out, she had accepted, after all. He misses Red.

  ~~~

  Tom, Molly, and Juan walk down a hallway toward the auditorium where they will be speaking. Over the course of the past year that the three have known each other, the trio have developed a great rapport. Juan and Tom are the jokesters, while Molly is a bit more reserved. Not quite shy, but certainly not as outgoing as Tom and Juan.

  Juan says something to which Molly gives a response. Tom seems totally unaware of them for the moment, almost as if he’s alone in the hall. He is taking in his surroundings. Everything seems so surreal. Perhaps that is due to the fact that he’s about to relive his past life as he speaks to these kids. The life he thought he had left behind, but now drives him to reach out to others headed down a similar path.