Josh Stallings - Beautiful, Naked and Dead

Pieces of the broken window rained down around me. Somewhere above me the greaseballs were screaming. The familiar pop of small arms fire echoed just before the wood around me started to splinter from wild rounds. I had darkness on my side. But even idiots get lucky sometimes. Reaching out behind my back I found a long piece of glass and sawed at the tape binding my wrists. The glass cut my fingers but it also sliced off the duct tape. Freeing my ankles, I pulled the wooden spear from my leg and ran limping for the cyclone fence surrounding the warehouse.

A square of light spilled out of the warehouse as the door slid up and three silhouettes charged out. I jumped onto the fence and started to climb. As I hit the top a pistol cracked and a bullet whizzed past my head. I pulled myself up and over, falling hard on the other side. I was on a thin strip of pavement on the bank of the LA River.

The dark forms hit the fence as I rolled down the embankment, bouncing over the moss slick cement I splashed down into the river. Above me the mob boys topped the fence. Pulling myself up I fought the current and ran for cover. I lost my footing on the rocks, went down, got up and kept going. I pulled myself onto a small sand island covered in bamboo and scrub brush. Hunkering down in the brush I lay silently. Past the branches I could see Sweater Boy and Running Suit on the top of the bank looking down. They walked back and forth, searching. After several long painful minutes they turned and disappeared back towards the warehouse.

I lay still for another half an hour just to be sure. I stayed in the river working my way north for a couple of miles before moving my way up the bank. I was wet and cold, my body ached and my left leg was having trouble holding my weight. I pulled myself up onto the street. I was in frog town, a small Latin neighborhood tucked between Riverside Drive and the River. Luckily this is LA, where people are used to seeing torn and battered homeless people, a town full of averted eyes and empty hands. I stumbled into a gas station on Fletcher. I thought I would call Piper, but I didn’t know her number. A gang-banger in a slammed Impala looked me over while he filled his tank. “You don’t look too good, ese,” he said.

“I’ve been shot at, beat up, burnt, drilled and almost drowned. So whatever you’re going to do, just get to it and put me out of my misery.” I slid down to sit on the pavement.

“Shit, homes, what do I look like to you? I ain’t going to rob you. I thought you was a drunk. I was going to take you to a meeting.” He leaned down to look me over. “You need to have a doctor look at that leg, homes.”

“No doctors.”

“Too many questions, eh, ese? Too many cops at the ER?” Leaning down he started to lift me up.

“What the…” I tried to resist but his grip on my shoulders was massive. This man was prison buff and I was weak as a wet kitten. Looking down at the arm that clamped on to me I saw his history in prison ink. Tattoos ran all the way up under his muscle shirt. Pancho Villa stood on his arm next to the Virgin de Guadalupe, in blue ink a low rider rolled and a sad man stood locked behind bars… On his shoulder hands intertwined in prayer while a dove flew from them up into his tee-shirt. Helping me walk he led me to his Impala.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Ese, I leave your ass out here, the piranhas will pick your bones clean in two minutes flat.” The car doors had been shaved and filled leaving a clean line with no apparent way of entry. He clicked a remote and the door opened with a deep pneumatic whoosh. It was all rich brown tuck and roll, I could see the marks my muddy pants were tracking onto the seats as I sunk in.

“Sorry,” I said looking down at my boots on the shag carpet.

“Relax, this is only stuff, it cleans,” he said and meant it. “Now where am I taking you?” I told him a cross street near Piper’s place. As we drove he glanced over at me. “I been where you are, guns in my face, guns in my hand. Done a lot of shit I’m not proud of loco, but you don’t have to keep running so hard. There’s an easier softer way.”

“Yeah? Move to Jamaica and forget this crap ever happened?” I said.

“No, you’d just make a mess there, trust me I tried pulling a geographic,” he said sliding smoothly though traffic. “Ten years ago I was doing a stint up at Pelican Bay, best thing ever happened to me.”

“Main line, huh?”

“Yeah, crazy right? I met this old time drunk, he showed me a new way to live. You ever hear of the Big Book?” he asked.

“You think I’m a drunk?”

“Normies don’t get into the kind of shit we do, ese, know what I mean?” he said with a slight smile.

“Look pal, I don’t need a fucking meeting unless it’s a Psycho-mob-hit-men-are-trying-to-kill-me Anonymous meeting, you got one of those?” I said.

“Not yet,” he said with a laugh, “but this is LA so who knows, we got every other kind of meeting, shit I heard they even have one for owners of co-dependent pets. Look, straight up, if I’m wrong no problem. But if not, I’ll save you a seat, down front.”

I had him pull up two blocks away from Piper’s place, sure he seemed on the up and up, but trust no one fully and you don’t get burned fully. As I got out he passed me a simple card with his name and phone number, he said to call if I ever needed to talk or whatever, and then with the deep rumble of glass packs he motored off down the street. I started up to a stranger’s house until he was around the corner, then backtracked to the sidewalk and stumbled up to Piper’s. Every step took my full concentration. Don’t fall or you may never get up again.

Slipping into a warm bath I felt a million years old. Piper sat on the lip of the tub, a worried expression on her face. She had almost bit my head off for waking her, but when she saw my condition she kicked into mother hen mode. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the emergency room?”

“Be the first place they’d look. First place I’d look.” She washed away the dirt from around the cuts, and bathed them in hydrogen peroxide. Cass had been asleep on the couch when I came in.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” Piper asked, scrubbing a bit rougher than necessary.

“Same old, same old,” I said, trying not to wince too bad.

“Bullshit, what has that girl got you tied into?”

“You don’t want to know about this one, sweetheart, trust me. When it’s cleaned up I’ll tell you all there is, but ‘til then forget you ever saw her. Got it?” I looked into her deep green eyes holding them, letting her see into mine, past the shield and into the real danger of the situation. After a moment, she gave me a slow blink of agreement.

“You’re the boss, Mo.”

“That’s all I want to hear.”

“That little girl is in love with you,” Piper said as she started to bandage my leg.

“That little girl is very confused.”

“She’d have to be, to be in love with a tore up old man like you,” she said with a deep throaty chuckle. “Now let’s finish getting your tired ass patched up and in bed. Momma still needs her beauty rest.” She helped me into her bed and lay down beside me.

“I’m sorry I brought this to your door…” I said, starting to fade.

“What the hell are friends for? If not to complicate your life, now shhhh.” Piper was gently stroking my back as I finally let go and drifted off.

I’m on the beach in Mexico, Cass is splashing in the surf. Sun dances on the water. The sand is cool and soft on my back. For miles the beach is empty, sand dunes run up against a jungle. Palm trees burn green. Cass drops down beside me, her warm lips press against my chest. She softly kisses her way down my belly…