New readers (if any)

be sure to read from the oldest blog first. the story begins with shades of grey, and progresses in the order posted. some people have told me that they accidentally read from the most recent post first, which will undoubtably ruin the story. ive got some non-grey stuff coming soon also. sorry its been so long since i have posted anything. keeping checking it.

Anna

You ride like a cowboy towards the sun
And life aint fun when you’re on the run
You got your gold and you got your gun
Life as an outlaw just begun

You got your shotgun by your side
You got your horse and you got your pride
You ride till there aint no place to hide
It’s sad cause the bad guys always die
Marshal Mathers

Decisions. Decisions are the fulcrum upon which a man’s life rests. They can turn a good man bad, or redeem one who is evil. When the day of judgment comes, will God look into the heart of a man in order to determine his worth, or are a man’s decisions the evidence by which his heart will be judged. Grey didn’t know. One thing he did know was that decisions could be a bitch. Of course, none of this mattered now, he had made his decision, and there was no going back.
The double barreled twelve gauge felt cold riding on the right side of his torso. He had fitted the shortened stock with a strap that looped over his shoulder so that the weapon would hang from beneath his right armpit along the side of his body. The twin barrels had been sawed off to about 18 inches so that it would be invisible beneath his coat. He had also cut a hole in his right pocket so his hand could grasp the shotgun while simply appearing to have his hands in his pockets. This way he could whip it out instantly, catching his adversary completely off guard.
Grey was nervous. He, Shoeless, and the GZ rode silently in an old panel van the GZ had acquired a few days before Grey came into town. Shoeless was driving, and every once in a while would break the silence by sniffing loudly. The GZ had been feeding a steady stream of both cocaine and bullshit ever since they had come to Providence, and the Shoe was now completely enthralled with the prospect of becoming a real life criminal. The GZ sat in the seat next to him, frequently checking his watch and appearing to be prepared for what was to come. Sam was the only conspirator who would not actually be present. She would be waiting at the old abandoned church on highway twenty four with the cars, preparing for their escape from Kansas.
Grey felt somewhat ashamed of the way the GZ had been able to play him. Sam had been his ace in the hole, and Grey had fallen in line just as the GZ knew he would. He supposed that it didn’t matter, he was doing this for Sam, and if this was to be his penance then he would accept whatever came after.
He looked solemnly out his window at the old familiar streets. They were in Jacob’s neighborhood now. It was early in the morning and the houses and yards were empty, just as they were the last time Grey was there.
He had spoken with Jacob yesterday who was only too happy to hear from Grey. He told Grey that he was having trouble with his dealers yet again, and that he would love to do a business with his “little buddy.” He had wondered where Grey had been for the last couple of years and Grey explained that he had decided to leave the life behind. Grey went on to tell Jacob that a good friend of his was in need of a reliable hook, and asked if he could bring him along. Jacob had eagerly agreed, telling Grey that he still trusted his judgment, and that if Grey’s friend was cool, he would be happy to have his business. Everything was in place.
“Aright, here it is,” Grey said, “Pull it over and park.”
The Shoe pulled the car over, Grey and the GZ got out. “Keep it running” Grey said as he pulled the sliding van door shut behind them. The two quickly strode up to the front door. Grey’s heart was pounding now, his breath coming to him only in short sharp gasps. The GZ looked calm but his eyes were wild. The cars that usually littered the front of the house and driveway were nowhere to be seen, which was a good sign. It meant that Jacob would most likely be alone.
Grey took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and knocked on the door. “Let’s do this fucker right.” The GZ whispered to Grey as they waited for a response from within the house.
“No sweat brother,” Grey said, trying to sound confident. “Just keep your fucking finger off the trigger and we’ll be fine.”
“Is that my little buddy?” Jacob exclaimed through the door. “Is that money makin Grey Townsen?” Jacob flung the door open and stood grinning with his hand extended. Grey’s grip on the shot gun tightened, his palms sweating. “What’s happinin little brother,” Jacob said. Time seemed to freeze. Grey knew what he had to do, knew what was supposed to come next, but for a split second he seemed to be unable to do it. He could hear his heart pounding in his head and watched in slow motion as Jacobs eager smile began to slowly fade with the realization that something wasn’t right. It was do or die time. No more thinking, he had to act.
Grey snapped out of the adrenaline freeze and in one swift motion stuck his foot hard up against the door to prevent the giant Mexican from slamming it, and put both barrels of the twelve gauge directly in his face. The GZ thankfully did not hesitate and came immediately over Grey's shoulder striking Jacob in the nose with the butt of Grey’s 40 caliber pistol.
“Get the fuck inside!” He shouted, he and Grey simultaneously pushing their way into the house. Jacob stumbled back, his nose spurting a stream of thick crimson. The GZ was on-top of him instantaneously, striking him twice more on the head until he collapsed onto the floor, his blood soaking into the carpet.
Grey was sharp now, his instinct working some sort of primal level, spurring him into action. He ran to where Jacob lay, swiftly kicking him twice in the ribs and placing his foot on the back of his neck with the shot gun pointed down at his head. “Get flat motherfucker!” He barked.
The GZ slapped the door shut and came to assist Grey with the Mexican. “Cuff him,” Grey ordered. The GZ dropped his knee into the back of Jacob, placed the pistol to his head and demanded he put his hands behind his back. After Jacob’s head cleared from the blows he had received, he calmly placed his hands behind his back and began to glare up at Grey with murder in his eyes.
“You just killed yourself ese.” He said to Grey as the GZ cuffed his hands behind his back, “You hear me Grey? You a dead ass white boy, I thought you were smarter than this holmes.”
“G, get in the back and check his closet.” Grey said, doing his best to ignore the threats, “There should be a safe in there.” The GZ scampered off into the back room in search of the goods.
“Why you doin this Grey?” Jacob asked still calm, his eyes relentlessly probing. “You aint dumb, you know who I am and who I’m with. I mean you might as well put that shotgun in your mouth and pull the trigger right now, save both of us some time.” With this a grim smile crossed his face because he saw in Grey’s eyes that he knew it was true.
Found it, “The GZ shouted from the bedroom. “What’s the combo.”
Grey looked down at Jacob, “what is it.” He asked simply. Jacob merely lay there looking up at Grey with the strange smile cut across his lips. “Come on now Jacob, you know me. You know I don’t bullshit. I don’t talk just to be talkin and when I talk you can believe what I say is true. So I’m gonna give you a choice.” Grey paused for a moment in order to allow his words to sink in, “Now you can either give me the combo to the safe, we’ll take what we came for and you can go about trying to hunt me down. Or I can drain your fucking skull into this nice shag carpet you got, and we can take the safe with us. It’s up to you, but I’m gonna need a decision right now.”
“Jacob continued to stare up at Grey, finally saying. “36-24-48.” Grey shouted the combination back to the GZ who entered the numbers into the digital key pad mounted on the safe.
“I got it,” he shouted back. “Holy fucking shit,” He breathed, apparently in awe by what he found.
“Tell me good news G,” Grey shouted towards the bedroom.
“Oh I got good news alright,” the GZ said as he came running into the room to grab the duffle bag they had brought. “We hit the fucking jackpot Grey, no bullshit, seven bricks and a pile of cash. Did I tell you or did I tell you.”
The GZ’s grin vanished with the sound of another presence in the room. It was Jacobs’s girlfriend, the one whose name Grey had never learned. She carried a bag of groceries in her arms and before she could even react to the scene taking place in her living room, her head snapped back, a small hole appearing just above her left nostril. The grocery back fell to the floor as a red cloud formed around her head and the wall behind her became speckled with bloody chunks of brain and skull. The thing that had only moments ago been a living human being crumbled to the floor; motionless, lifeless, now nothing more than an empty husk.
The deafening sound of the gunshot still echoed in Grey’s ears. The GZ stood there, holding his pistol still pointed at where the woman had been with a look of complete and utter shock on his face. “I didn’t mean…..she surprised….” He tried to mumble an explanation for his idiocy, but Grey was no longer paying attention. With sudden clarity, he knew what he must now do.
He swung the shotgun towards Jacob and proceeded to empty both barrels into the sprawling Mexican. The buckshot opened Jacobs back like a watermelon splashing into a swimming pool. Grey then cracked his weapon, removed the spent cartridges, put them in his pocket, and replaced them with fresh ones. “Get right GZ,” he said grimly, “we aint got much time now.” The GZ seemed to snap out of it, though still moving in somewhat of a daze, and followed Grey towards the bedroom. “Grab your shell first.” Grey said as he made his way through the kitchen.
When Grey opened the door to the bedroom he was not at all prepared for the sight which awaited him. He stood in the doorway, unable to move.
“Got it!” The GZ said, and ran back to the bedroom in order to assist Grey. “Holy shit,” He muttered in a shocked voice as he reached the doorway and saw what it was that Grey had been staring at. “She wasn’t supposed to be here, Sam swore she didn’t stay here anymore.” He muttered. But Grey didn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything; nothing except the little girl standing kneeling on the bed, surrounded by blankets. It was Anna, her eyes wide with fear. The same eyes that had once changed Grey’s life, finding him in the same place he had once been. Grey stood staring into those eyes, the eyes of a little girl whose innocence was being shattered. Only now Grey was the violator.
“She must have been under the covers sleeping, I never even noticed her.” The GZ said as moved around Grey into the bedroom.
“What’s going on Mr. Grey?” She asked in a small voice, “what was that noise.”
“It was nothing baby,” he murmured, “Your mom just dropped something that’s all.”
The three of them stood without making a sound for what seemed like an eternity until the GZ finally broke the silence. “I guess you better do it dude.” Grey looked at him not understanding what was being said.
“Come on man,” the GZ urged, we don’t have much time.
“Do what.” Grey asked, genuinely confused.
“You know what man.”
Then Grey did understand. He had killed Jacob because he had been a witness to the murder of his girlfriend. Grey had no choice. Jacob could have identified him.
“No,” Grey said forcefully. “No, it aint gonna happen, no fucking way.”
“No choice brother,” the GZ stated plainly, “I guess if you can’t do it then I will.” With this the GZ slowly raised his pistol, leveling it at Anna. Grey reacted before he could take aim, whipping his shotgun out and pointing it at the GZ.
“You better point that fucking gun somewhere else brother. I fucking told you, this aint happening. I won’t let you do it.” Grey’s voice was on the edge of panic now, cold sweat ran down the sides of his face and he could once again hear his heart pounding between his temples.
“What the fuck are you doing Grey?” The GZ asked in bewilderment, still pointing his gun at Anna.
“What’s going on Mr. Grey?” Anna said, repeating the question she has asked moments ago. Tears where now streaming down her cheeks as she looked down the barrel of the hand gun; clutching her blanket as though it could shield her from the bullets.
“Think Grey,” the GZ said, ignoring the frightened girl, “She’s seen both of us and there’s a fucking bloodbath in the next room. She knows your fucking name for Christ’s sake.”
“I swear G, the only way we’re leaving three dead bodies up in here is if your one of em!” He and the GZ locked eyes, neither willing to blink. “I’m not bluffing Gerald.” Grey stated with calm precision.
“We can’t leave her alive Grey, you know that.”
“Fine,” Grey replied, “Then we won’t leave her.”
“Grey, do you have any idea how fucking stupi….”
“That’s what’s happening G, you can live with it or you can die with it, but that’s what’s happening. Now clear out the safe, we don’t have time for any more of this bullshit.”
Finally the GZ shoved his pistol into his jeans, shook his head, and knelt in front of the safe. Grey let his shotgun fall beneath his coat once again and bent down over Anna.
“Aright sweaty, I’m gonna pick you up a carry you out of here, ok?” Grey went on before allowing her to respond. “I’m gonna wrap you up in this blanket and we’re gonna go, ok?” Grey did his best to use a soothing tone of voice, but what came out was more panic than anything else.
“But where are we going?” She asked, tears still streaming down her cheeks.
“We’re just going on a little vacation honey.” He lied. “Now I need you to close your eyes for me while we’re walking out of here. Can you do that? I need you to keep em closed all the way to the car. Can you promise to do that?”
Anna nodded, whipping the tears off of her cheek with the back of her hand. “Thank you sweetie. You’re such a good girl, you know that? Don’t you worry, I'm gonna take good care of you. We’re gonna have lots of fun on our vacation, I promise. Can you give me a smile?”
She did her very best to smile, but it was the saddest look Grey had ever seen. Everything in his life before this moment seemed to vanish. Why he was here and what he had done were meaningless. All that mattered now was Anna.
“Are you ready G?”
“Yeah I got everything, let’s roll.”
“Ok Anna, close your eyes now, its time to go.”

The Sickness part 2

Grey and Shoeless rode to the bar together in silence. Grey could tell that the Shoe was feeling talkative due to the line he had taken earlier but Grey was in no mood for junk talk, and Shoeless finally got the hint. When they arrived at the Green House the Shoe parked and began immediately to get out of the car. “Hold up man,” Grey said as Shoeless was opening the door.
“What’s up?” The Shoe replied closing the door.
“Are you cool with all this man, I mean, you seemed pretty nervous when we were going down to see the GZ. Are you sure you don’t mind sticking around here for awhile. I know you’re not used to being around these shady motherfuckers, and if you decide to stick around its only gonna get worse.”
“Don’t worry about it man,” Shoeless said genuinely, “To be honest I’m really starting to have fun. Its kinda crazy hanging with all your old criminal buddies, It aint like hangin with the college crowd.”
“No shit,” Grey said flatly.
“Seriously man, it’s cool. It’s actually exciting; I get to pretend like I’m notorious.” The tone of Shoeless’s voice was somewhat frightening to Grey. He had seen plenty of young men become seduced by the street life, and the Shoe’s eyes were brimming with a dangerous curiosity.
“Well, just so long as you remember that it’s not cool, aright. Nothing about the GZ and all this bullshit is cool. Now were just gonna go in here, talk to this old friend of mine, and go back to Dodge."
“What’s the deal with this girl man, it sounds like you were close, how come you haven’t talked to her in like ten years, and why do you wanna talk to her so bad now?” The Shoe’s question was a legitimate one, but it was one that Grey had no answer for. It was too long of a story and far too painful to be recounted in the few moments they had before entering the bar.
“Don’t worry about it bother; maybe I’ll tell you another time. You ready to go in?”
“Yeah man, let’s do it.”
The Green House was an old hippie hang out, hence the name. The bar was lined with aged sixties burnouts and failed revolutionaries discussing the glory of their former years, and the hopelessness of their current ones. Grey and Shoeless went immediately to the bar where Grey attracted the attention of the bartender and ordered a pitcher. As he waited for his drinks to come he looked slowly about the dimly lit barroom, his eyes coming to rest on a young woman sitting alone in the back corner of the smoky room. It was Sam.
She had changed, there was no doubting that. Her hair was still blond but it no longer contained the rebellious streaks of color, and her once kitty punk clothing had been replaced by simple jeans and a t-shirt. She sat staring into her drink, and had the look of a person who has lived too fast for too long. He could see a faint scar running from her forehead to the upper part of her right check, and years of sadness had sown deep circles beneath her eyes.
When the bartender appeared with their pitcher, Grey paid him and quickly poured himself a glass, drinking deeply in an attempt to quiet his nerves. “Do you see her?” Shoeless asked, “Is she here?”
“Yeah she’s here.” Grey replied. “I guess we should go on over.”
Grey had been waiting for this moment for so long and now that it was finally here he felt stricken with fear. It was almost as if he didn’t want to know the girl sitting alone at the table. She had changed so much and Grey wondered if he would have been better off keeping her as a sweet memory in his mind.
“Can you grab the pitcher?” Grey asked Shoeless. He did, and they began to make their way over to Sam’s table.
“Hello Sam.” Grey said softly as he reached the table where she was sitting. She quickly turned around at the sound of his voice and began to smile that same smile that had clung to his memory for so many years. It still contained a hint of mischief, though the spark in her eyes had dimmed and had become little more than a dull glow. Despite this Grey was pleased to see that it was still there at all
Sam immediately sprang to her feet and threw her arms around Grey.
“Grey!! Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s actually you.” Her arms grasped him tightly as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. “I thought I would never see you again.” She whispered.
“Yeah, me too.” He said. Stunned by the sudden outburst of affection, he stood awkwardly holding the girl who had spent so many dark years occupying his every thought; the girl who was now a woman. After a moment she slowly withdrew, and stood with her hands on Grey’s shoulders, her eyes penetrating his own. For a moment she looked as though she may cry, if only the savage nature of her past had not taken the ability from her. Finally she cracked an embarrassed smile, half a laugh, and invited Grey to sit.
Grey, unable to take his eyes from hers, had completely forgotten the Shoe, who was standing in obvious discomfort holding a pitcher of beer.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, this is my friend Shoeless. Shoeless, this is Sam.” Sam shook his hand as though he were an afterthought and returned her eyes to Grey. They all sat down around the table and shoeless poured each of them a beer. Grey and Sam both immediately took long heavy drinks from their glasses; it appeared as though they still had much in common, despite the passage of time.
“Grey Townsen,” She breathed after draining half of her beer.
“Samantha, Jenkins, It’s been a long time, too fucking long.” Grey still couldn’t believe she was actually there. The years of their separation seemed to slip away and they were once again two teenagers staring blissfully at one another. “So how have you been?” He asked, “Where have you been?”
“Oh, I’ve been surviving, same as you I suppose.” She replied with a smile, the sense of a private joke returning once again to her eyes. “Life is life Grey,” She said in a matter of fact tone, “I imagine it’s treated me the same as it’s treated you. The same goes for where I’ve been. I guess I’ve been in the same places as you, just different locations.” Sam had always been clever, and this was nothing more than a clever way of avoiding the question.
“Well shit Sam,” Grey said with a chuckle, “That’s downright poetic. You sure you aint been studying philosophy somewhere?” Grey was smiling now and it felt good. It had been a very long time since a genuine smile had graced his lips and for a moment he forgot about the last ten years.
“What about you,” she asked, “Where have you been? I’ve been to town a couple of times but you haven’t been around. I asked around about you. It sounds like you became pretty well known in Providence for a while. After that people said you fell off the face of the fucking planet.”
Grey found that he was in no bigger rush than Sam had been to disclose the details of the past ten years. “Oh you know how it goes Sam, sometimes when you can’t run away from who you are the next best thing is to run away from where you are.” After this statement they proceeded to polish off their beers in unison. Sam looked solemnly down at the table and said softly.
“You always did know how to run away Grey.” There was a slight edge to her voice wrapped in great sadness.
“Sam….I just…. You’ll never know how sorry I am….”
“Stop, I’m the one who should be sorry. The past is the past Grey, I shouldn’t have said that. We were kids, and the truth is I still love you like I always did. I don’t want to hold anything against you. Let’s just not talk about it ok?”
“Do you forgive me?” He asked.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it Grey. The past is the past. It wasn’t your fault. Lets just leave it be.”
“They sat in silence for a moment. Grey realized that Shoeless was probably feeling extremely out of place when the silence was finally broken by the voice of the GZ. “What’s up villains, “he exclaimed jovially as he sat down, “Why all the long faces, you two haven’t seen each other in ten fucking years, why you lookin all sad and shit? The way you guys were talking about seeing each other again I woulda thought you be as happy as a couple of faggs in a dick tree by now.”
“Oh we are,” Sam replied, smiling once again, “you just caught us at an awkward moment. I am happy to see you Grey.” She said turning her gaze towards him, “you really have no idea. Of course I don’t know if I’m as happy as a fagg in a dick tree. I imagine that would be one happy faggot, but I am happy to see you.” With this they all laughed, forgetting the past; replacing it with the moment.
“Well shit,” The GZ said after the laughter had subsided, “I gotta go run some errands for a little while, you wanna roll with me Shoeless?”
“Yeah, sure man,” The Shoe quickly answered, clearly happy to be getting out of what he considered to be a highly uncomfortable situation. Not to mention that his introduction to cocaine had left him desperate for more.
“Aright let’s get to it,” The GZ said as he got up from the table, “I have a feeling these two need some time to chop it up for awhile anyway.”
Shoeless looked puzzled, not understanding the expression as he followed the GZ out of the bar.
“Gerald’s right,” Sam said to Grey in the low voice one uses when partaking in an incriminating conversation. “I do need to talk to you,… about something big. I’ve heard that you’ve gone straight, but I need your help. I wouldn’t ask but you’re the only one who can do it.”
Grey braced himself for what was coming.
******
The blind stares of a million pairs of eyes, looking hard but don’t realize that they will never see the P.

Shoeless and the GZ sat in Gerald’s BMW with an unmistakably TuPac track pounding out of the vehicles high dollar sound system doing bumps of coke out of the shell of an old 45.
“Oh man, I felt that one.” Said Shoeless, “Thanks man, I appreciate it.”
“No problem Bro.” The GZ quickly replied. “If Grey thinks enough of you to bring you back to his old stomping ground than your definitely cool enough to ride with me.” The GZ started the car and began to drive away from the bar. “
“I’ve gotta be honest,” the Shoe said, once again feeling talkative. “This is all kinda new to me. I’m used to sittin around getting drunk with a bunch of college kids, not doin blow and rolling around in a BMW with a drug dealer.”
“Now what would make you think that I'm a drug dealer.” The GZ said with a smirk.
“Oh you know, it seems pretty obvious, besides, Grey told me a little bit about you.”
“Oh yeah?” The GZ replied seemingly interested by this. “I don’t suppose he told you just how I became a drug dealer, huh? I bet he didn’t tell you that he used to slang more dope in this town than a fucking monkey throwin shit at the zoo, did he?”
Shoeless laughed at the mental picture the GZ had given him, “Not in quite those words, but I always kinda got the impression he was into some bad stuff back in the day.”
“Yeah man, that motherfucker used to be as street as it gets. You seem like you can handle yourself alright, I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to turn you on to some shit like he did me.”
“I don’t know man, I think he’s changed a lot since he lived here. Whenever he talks about Providence he calls it the bad old days, or something like that. I’m sure I could handle whatever though, Grey just isn't into that kind of thing anymore.” GZ gave the shoe a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye accompanied by a slow smile. He had him on the line now. It was amazing how a few short moments could change a man’s life forever. The seduction of the streets was a powerful thing, and the GZ was a first class salesman. All he had to do now was real in the Shoe.
“Really, you think you could handle whatever?” The GZ asked with synthetic skepticism.
“Hell yeah I could,” The shoe quickly defended himself, “Man I’m down for whatever, I’m tired of the same old crap. Living in a shitty run down house and seein the same freeloadin kids every night. I’m ready to do something.”
“Really? Well it’s your lucky day then. Cause it just so happens we got something going on here in the next couple of days.” Shoeless was now in the boat.
“Like what?” Shoeless began to feel nervous, as though he had just signed up for something he was unprepared to deal with, but it was too late. “Well, before you let me in, you should know that I’d have to check with Grey, he’s my boy and I’m not doing anything without him.”
Again the GZ's slow smile crept over his face, “I wouldn’t worry about Grey bro, something tells me that he'll be down. Now take another bump and I’ll tell you all about it.”
********
“Why are you asking me to do this Sam?” Grey’s voice trembled on the edge of panic. “Why now?”
“I need this to happen Grey, I’ve got nothing else.” Her blue eyes were once again penetrating his own. “There’s no one else that can do it. You’re the only one who can get in, and I know you’ve done this kind of thing before.”
“Yeah,” Grey replied quickly, sitting back in his chair as though the mere proposal exhausted him. “To a bunch of buster ass dudes, not to anybody like Jacob. What the are you thinking Sam? Are you fucking dope sick? Is that it?”
That’s not it Grey, you know that’s not it. I just can’t live this life anymore, I need this, just this one thing, and then we can leave all this shit behind. We can go off together and never look back. We can go someplace nice, you’ll see.” Her eyes pled with his and at that moment the desperation of her life became visible to anyone who cared to look.
“How the do you even know Jacob.” He asked
“I’ve been in Providence for a little over a year now, I met him at the bar one night. He’s kept me around ever since, and don’t you fucking ask me why cause you all ready know.” She said this with a slight wince, and Grey began to wish that he had kept her as a sweet memory from the past and nothing more.
“I can’t do it Sam, I’m done with that life. I’m sorry but I can’t” As he said this he began to get up but Sam quickly grabbed his arm, her fingernails digging deep into his skin, causing him to meet her eyes yet again.
“You can do it Grey. You can and you will. You owe me Grey. You owe me so much more than this.” The edge had returned to her voice and it was now Grey’s turn to wince.
“I thought that the past was the past Sam.” He whispered.
“It will be,” she replied, “Just do this for me Grey, and it will be. We’ll go away together, someplace nice. We’ll go to Canada. We’ll sit by the ocean all day smoking good BC bud and drinking rye until we both forget that we ever had lives in Kansas.” As she was saying this she slid her hand down from his arm and into his. “Please Grey, you have to do this.”
Grey stared out the window of the bar towards the faintly glowing street lights just outside, unable to look back at Sam; knowing that when he did, his will would surrender to hers.

The Sickness part 1

Indulging in his sickness, he sits with thoughts of her….
or him, or then, or if only when.
The predicate changes but the verb remains his cure.
With blood filled eyes and misery on his breath
He cares nothing for the one he has, only for the next
Seeing not the new day, nor the coming of the dawn
Another man dies, but the sickness lives on

December 03, 2007, Providence KS.
Grey followed the voice of the GZ down into the darkness of the basement. His hand trailed along the crumbling cement of the ancient stone walls as he descended the narrow stairs into the dungeon. Grey had giving the dungeon its nickname. After being kicked out of his parents house in the late 90’s he was forced to sleep in its depths for a little over a month, and had not enjoyed his experience. Nowadays the GZ used it as a spot to slang dope out of and as a hang out. As he felt his way down the stairs, Grey vaguely recalled a scripture from his childhood, something about “fruitless deeds done in darkness.”
“Dude, where are you taking me?” Shoeless asked with obvious apprehension in his voice. He knew enough about Grey’s past to be nervous.
“Just relax man, its all good.” Grey replied.
After reaching the bottom of the stairs he began to grope his way past various unknown objects towards the faint glow coming from the back corner of the basement. The makeshift room was separated from the rest of the dungeon by hanging sheets, and was intentionally difficult to approach. After reaching the sheets, he pulled one aside to reveal the GZ sitting on one of two old couch’s, and staring blankly at the television, which was the room’s only source of light. The coffee table in front of the couch was littered with pipes, scales, cellophane bags, and other paraphernalia. The GZ was seldom organized.
“What’s up stranger,” the GZ said brightly, “I was wondering if I’d ever see your jagged face again.” The GZ often referred to Grey as jagged, in part due to his crooked smile and in part due to his once crooked nature.
“Well here I am. You look like you haven’t moved an inch since I left town.” The sound of shoeless trying to navigate his way through the maze of junk reminded him that he was not alone. “Oh yeah, I brought my boy with me, that’s him runnin into shit back there.”
“That’s cool,” He said standing up, “Well, you gonna give me some love or what? It’s been two fucking years man, you can’t slap my hand?”
“Shit man, you know we’re always gonna be brothers.” Grey said extending his hand to the GZ.
“Brothers don’t shake hands, brothers gotta hug.” The GZ exclaimed doing his very best Chris Farley impersonation and capturing Grey in an exaggerated bear hug. As he pulled away he subtly ran his hand over the center of Grey’s chest.
“Sorry bro, just being cautious,” he said, “you never know these days. So how the hell are you Grey. Civilian life treatin’ you ok?”
“Yeah man I’m good.” Grey took a seat on the couch opposite the GZ. “Oh yeah, this is my roommate, shoeless.” He said referring to the Shoe, who was standing on the edge of the room waiting to be introduced.
“What’s up man,” the GZ said standing and shaking hands with Shoeless, “Any friend of Grey’s is a friend of mine. Have a seat man.” Shoeless nodded and mumbled a word of thanks as he took a seat next to Grey on the couch opposite the GZ.
“Why are you still slangin out of the dungeon man?” Grey asked, “I would have thought a baller like you would have upgraded by now. It smells like piss down here.”
“That’s cause I piss in the sump pump,” he said with a smile. “I guess I could go somewhere else, but this place is easy and safe. All the nice places I’ve tried to hustle out of get their fucking door kicked in. Besides, it’s better to keep things ghetto. Cops only wanna bust a motherfucker if they think he makes more money than they do.”
The GZ’s cell phone which had been sitting on the coffee table rang and he quickly answered. He looked at Grey as he spoke into the phone. He had a Lazy eye which had always creeped Grey out to a degree. Grey could never tell if he was looking at him or at some phantom stranger standing just behind his left shoulder. Gerald had always been skinny, but in the faint light of the television Grey thought that he was looking downright Skeletal. His ribs seemed to protrude from his pasty pale skin, a sign that he had been hitting it especially hard of late.
“Naw bro, I'm still not workin.” He said into the phone, “I’ll let you know when I get back into some shit, but for now just quite fucking calling. Things are hot around here, aright.” He hung up the phone.
“I swear,” He said to Grey, “These fuckers just don’t get it. Everyone knows that I’m out of the game for now, but they just keep calling.” He picked up a plate from beneath the coffee table holding several rails, did one, and then offered the plate to Grey, who refused, and to Shoeless, who gratefully accepted. It was obvious to Grey that things were bad for the GZ. Dope and desperation were a dangerous combination, and he thoroughly reeked of both.
“You got something to drink around here?” Grey asked, beginning to feel nervous. He had forgotten the force with which every moment he experienced in the dungeon weighed down upon him, and was beginning to feel as though he was in danger of being crushed.
He was also becoming increasingly anxious over his upcoming reunion with Sam. He wondered what she might look like and how the years may have changed her.
“Yeah man, I got some beers in the fridge behind the couch.” GZ had always been hospitable, “just grab me one while your back there.”
Grey reached behind the couch, opened the fridge, and grabbed four beers. He handed one to the shoe, one to the GZ, and kept two for himself.
“Shiiiit,” the GZ said laughing, “It’s good to see that you haven’t changed too much Grey.”
“You know how it is man; the more things change the more they stay the same.” Grey said, and then proceeded to kill an entire beer in one breath. When he was finished he exhaled in satisfaction, belched, and opened his second beer. “Thanks bro, I needed that.”
Shoeless had begun to sniff frequently, a sign that he was not an experienced drug abuser. Most coke heads eventually learn to stifle the urge to sniff every five seconds.
“So, are you ready to see your old girl,” GZ asked, “You’ve been here about ten minutes and I can tell that you cant wait to ask about her.”
“She was never my girl man.” Grey replied, annoyed that the GZ had so easily seen through him, despite his efforts to disguise his excitement.
“Well either way, she’s waiting for us down at the Green Tree, so finish up that beer. I told her we’d be there by eight.”
Grey could hardly believe that it had been this easy. He was actually about to see Sam for the first time in ten years. Hey quickly stood, finishing his beer, and was followed by Shoeless and the GZ.
“Hey, it’s Shoeless, right?” The GZ asked as he stood.
“Yeah man, that’s right, even though today I’m wearing shoes.” The rail the shoe had done a few minutes ago was clearly loosening him up.
“Right,” the GZ said with a slow smile, “Well do mind if I get a second with Grey before we head out?”
“That’s cool man,” the Shoe relied happy to oblige, “I’ll just be waiting in the car Grey.”
“Cool man,” Grey answered, turning a suspicious gaze towards the GZ. He was about to find out what Gerald really wanted from him, at least in part. The prospect no longer mattered much to Grey. He was about to see Sam, and was therefore not interested in indulging the GZ in any way.
“Aright bro,” said Grey, “Shoeless is upstairs, so hurry up and tell me what it is that you want so I can say no.”
“Why you gotta be like that Grey, Don’t forget man, I know you. I’ve seen you work brother, so you can cut the holier than fucking thou act anytime.”
“Whatever man, just say what you’ve got to say.” Grey knew that the GZ would pressure him for what he wanted and was prepared for a fight.
“Aright man, if that’s the way you fucking want it then lets just get down to it. But just so you know, this ain’t about what I want from you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Grey asked. The GZ went on ignoring the question.
“When was the last time you talked to Jacob?” Silence filled the dungeon as the two stood glaring at each other through the tension.
“You know when,” Grey finally answered. “Will you quite bullshitting G. Just tell me what the fuck you want.
“I already told you man,” the GZ said slowly, “it’s not what I want, it’s what she wants.” Grey could feel his face pale as he began to realize exactly what the GZ was inferring.
“Who?” he asked in a voice that was scarcely a whisper.
“Who!” The GZ said mockingly, “What the fuck man, you a fucking owl now? You know goddamn well who. Now get your shit together, we’re late.”

About Grey

i guess this has turned from a bunch of short stories into one long one. if you havent read any of them i suggest you start with shades of grey and read them in the order they were posted. thanks

Return to Providence

“Well that blaze-and-noise boy
he’s gunnin that bitch, loaded to blastin point
He rides head first into a hurricane
And disappears into a point
And there’s nothing left but some blood where the body fell
And there’s nothing left that you could sell
Just junk all across the horizon
A real highway mans farewell.
Bruce Springsteen

December 03, 2007, Dodge City KS.

Grey awoke from a drunken stupor not exactly sure of where he was. This was not an uncommon thing, although it was something Grey had never quite become used to and remained a frightening experience. He prayed that when he pulled the covers back he would see the familiar surroundings of his room rather than the bars of a jailhouse drunk-tank. He had woken up in jail before and was in no great hurry to relive the experience. His mattress, however, was entirely too soft to be the kind of plastic matt they give you to sleep on in jail and his blanket actually seemed to be covering his entire body, therefore he quickly deduced that he must be at home and was grateful to have his assumption confirmed as he through back his covers.
He had slept in his clothes, as usual, and had not concerned himself with setting the alarm clock in order to be on time for work. He quickly decided, after seeing that he was already an hour and forty five minutes late, that he had had quite enough of the assembly line at the automotive plant, and resigned to quite in his normal fashion.(which is to say he would simply not show up until he was fired.)
His memories of Sam had caused him to hit the bottle extra hard the previous night. Now those memories had been replaced by the need to vomit. After he had finished flushing the toxic contents of his stomach down the toilet he proceeded to the kitchen in order to replenish them. Shoeless lay snoring loudly on the couch, as he did every day until around three o’clock in the afternoon, and Grey fixed himself a rum and coke for breakfast. Grey’s philosophy on hangovers was simple, if you never quite drinking then you never got one.
Despite the fact that he drank in the morning Grey never allowed himself to actually become drunk until later in the evening. He might have a drink here and there in order to ward off the dreaded DT’s, but he could usually keep it under control until the sun went down.
As was his ritual, Grey chugged a couple of beers in the shower before changing into a clean pair of clothes and putting the coffee on. He sat down at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee, and began to look through his cell phone records to see if he had missed any phone calls that morning or the night before. He froze on a number of a missed call glowing up at him from the phones display. As he stared at the familiar number he wondered to himself how long it had been since he had actually spoken with the GZ. Had he called him last night in a fit of drunken dialing? He hoped that that was all it was.
Grey had left the drug business behind a few years back and had no desire to be drawn into that world again. GZ, or Gerald Zimmerman, had been an old contact of his; actually, Grey had basically built the GZ into one of the biggest dope dealers in Providence. Grey had left Providence behind along with the dope trade and everything that went along with it. He now lived in a small college town about three hours from his old playground and as a general rule he did everything in his power to avoid it.
Grey had no idea what to make of the phone call. He simply sat at the table staring blankly at the number and letting his cigarette burn down to the filter without taking a drag. He vaguely remembered meeting the GZ back in high school. He had approached Grey to buy a large amount of pot and Grey had seen an opportunity in his young eyes. The next few years was spent building him up, all the while making a tidy profit from their friendship, until the day Grey looked into the eyes of a little girl, and finally decided to leave the life.
Since that time Grey had heard rumors about the GZ. He had apparently surpassed the point where Grey had taken him and even far beyond where Grey himself had been before abandoning the game. The GZ, however, was reckless. While Grey had been able to escape his life of crime with only minor misdemeanor convictions, the GZ had been busted multiple times on felony intent charges. Word on the street was he had even turned snitch in order to avoid serious federal penitentiary time.
Why the hell was he calling Grey now? It was true that they had once been very close friends, their relationship transcending that of a business partnership, but he hadn’t spoken with him in over a year. Grey had decided back then, that his conscious could no longer bear the strain of destroying the lives of others through the drug trade, and had since resolved to destroy no ones life but his own.
Grey finally decided to call him back. He felt he owed GZ that much for dragging him into a lifestyle that had begun to eat him alive. Of course it wasn’t as simple as all that. Gerald had been living the life long enough now that not much remained of the young man Grey had met so many years ago. He was a product of the streets now; lies had become his language and trickery his method. Whatever he wanted with Grey would not be an easy thing to discover, if Grey was to know at all. Lies are like the secret code of the streets, understanding there meaning when spoken was the only way to survive, and Grey was out of practice.
“Whatever.” He thought to himself, “It’s just a phone call.” He lit another cigarette as he began to dial the GZ’s phone number.
“Hello.” Gerald answered.
“What’s up dude, its been a while.” Grey hoped his apprehension was not apparent through the sound of his voice.
“Jesus fucking Christ on the cross, Grey Townson.” As always the GZ sounded upbeat and full of energy. “What the hell man, it’s been a long time. Where the fuck did you disappear to.”
“Oh I’ve been around, here and there, you know how it is. Just tryin to stay out of trouble is all.” Grey wasn’t about to tell the GZ where he lived, he had only been on the phone a few moments and already the ‘need to know’ mentality of his old life had crept into the forefront of his mind. Grey’s instincts had always been strong, even so he didn’t know what to make of the situation.
“Well shit man,” Grey said, trying to sound natural, “How’s life been treatin you, what’s new.”
“Things are good brother, I’m just kickin it. Makin a little money where I can, you know how it goes.”
“Yeah, so business is good then?” Grey asked.
“Yeah man, things couldn’t be better.” This was bad. Grey had heard through another kid from Providence that the GZ had been busted again, this time with major weight and some cash to boot, and was now awaiting trial. Of course that didn’t mean that Gerald would necessarily shut down shop, but what it did mean was that he was bullshitting Grey already. Usually if things were not going well the GZ would ask Grey for advice or at least whine about his problems.
“Great man, glad to hear it.” Said Grey without missing a beat. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? What’s really going on?”
Why does something gotta be going on dude. Can’t I just be calling to say what’s up. I mean you drop off the face of the fucking planet, leave me in the lurch without so much as saying goodbye, and now you act like your scared to fucking talk to me when I call you. Like I want something from you.”
Grey paused, sensing that the GZ was indeed unusually stressed out. “Well don’t you?” He finally asked.
“Look man, I do need to talk to you, but that’s not the only reason I called. Besides, it’s not that big of a deal, and I didn’t want to just jump into shit when I haven’t seen you in forever. I don’t know how safe my phone is these days anyway. We can talk about it when you get to town.”
Grey sighed, “And why the fuck would I be coming back to Providence?”
“Cause you love me bro, you know you can’t stay away.” Grey could almost feel his grin through the phone, “Plus I’ve been hangin out with an old friend of yours and she said that she really wants to see you.”
The GZ’s bullshit motor was running on overdrive now. Grey realized that he must need something from him pretty bad. “Yeah? And who would that be?”
“Sam’s back in town. I ran into her the other night at Fred’s Place.”
Grey’s breath suddenly seemed to catch in his throat as if he had been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat.
“Hello?” The GZ hummed impatiently “you still there or what”
“Sam who?” Grey heard his voice ask.
“Sam who!” the GZ said in a mocking tone of voice, “Sam man, Sammie girl, the hit-chick Sammy-Sam….Samantha Jenkins. Don’t play like you don’t fucking remember her cause I know you do. And let me tell you bro, she sure as shit remembers you. So when are you coming to town?”
Once again Grey heard his own voice respond, “I’ll be there tonight.”
“Aright, bet. I’ll see you tonight. Be safe brother.” And with that Gerald hung up the phone. Grey’s hand with his phone in it dropped lifelessly to his lap as he sat stunned by what he had just heard. Then a thought occurred to him. The GZ had also known Sam, though the three of them had never associated with each other at the same time, he knew how close Grey and Sam had once been. This too could merely be smooth talking GZ bullshit, designed simply to draw Grey back to Providence. It was very possible that once Grey arrived the GZ would attempt to get Grey to do whatever he needed him for, after which he would simply make up some more bullshit as to why Sam was no longer around, or fain attempts at finding her without success.
He could almost hear Gerald now, “Man she said she was gonna meet us here, I wonder where the fuck she’s at.” This thought quickly seemed to sober Grey from the shock he had been experiencing, and allowed him to think somewhat more objectively on the matter.
After sitting for what seemed like an eternity in the dank silence of his kitchen Grey came to a decision. He had to go. If there was even a chance that Sam was in Providence, he had to go. He would find out first thing, if she was actually there, and if she wasn’t he would turn around abruptly and come home. If she was there….well he didn’t know what he was going to do if she was there, but he knew that if given the chance, he had to see her.
He quickly got up and walked back to his room where he threw some cloths into a backpack. After he had finished packing he sat down on the couch he kept in his room, again contemplating a difficult decision. After much deliberation he decided it was better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it. He got down on his knees in front of the couch, reached his hand up underneath it and began to feel his way past the frame and into the fabric above. He had almost begun to believe that one of his roommates or a drunken party goer must have discovered it and stolen it until his fingers touched the cold metal. He carefully removed the 40 caliber pistol he had hidden there in what seemed like another life, checking to make sure that it was still loaded before cramming it into the bottom of his backpack.
Touching the weapon made Grey feel the weight of his past. He hadn’t carried the gun since the day he had last seen Jacob. He realized that what he was doing was reckless and for all practical purposes, pointless as well. But he had made his decision.
“Shoeless!” He called out as he walked into the living room.
“Huh.” The shoe grunted, not opening his eyes.
“Wake the fuck up man!” Grey said in a gruff raised voice he had not heard himself use in years. “Seriously, get up.”
“What man,” Shoeless said, somewhat annoyed though alert by Grey’s sudden change in tone.
“Get up man,” Grey said, “and put some fucking shoes on, were going to Providence.”

Children of Wrath

“All of us also lived among them at one time,
Gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and
Following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest,
we were by nature, children of wrath.”
Ephesians 2, verse 3

Imagine yourself running. Time seems to slow to a crawl when you’re running for your life. Your every thought comes to you with a sort of sharp clarity as you hear the sound of your own footsteps echoing on the pavement. Your arms pump wildly in a blind attempt to escape fate and your lungs burn, savoring the breath which may be their last. Then the most remarkable thing happens. You begin to pray. You pray that the man after you won’t be able to handle the fully automatic beast you’ve just seen him pull from the back seat of his car. You pray he just starts spraying wildly from his hip like they do in the movies, instead of holding the rifle tightly against his shoulder, taking careful aim. You pray he doesn’t set his feet, exhaling his nervous breath in order to steady his nerves and his hands. You pray he angrily jerks the trigger rather than giving it the slow deliberate squeeze of a professional. You pray that he misses. You pray that he’s not a true killer. You pray that you get lucky. You pray for forgiveness. But these days they’re all killers, the streets have no room for the weak, and luck doesn’t live here. As for God, well, God doesn’t hear your prayer, doesn’t listen to the prayers of men like you. But you knew that from the beginning.
********

June 13, 2003, Providence KS,

50 dollars a gram, 28 grams to an ounce, 16 ounces to a pound, and two pounds four ounces to a key. That’s $50,400 minus the 18 grand Grey had paid for the product, and a couple more grand for how much he had used himself. That left him somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 grand. Not too bad for a month’s worth of work.
Of course, it wasn’t like Grey could just go out and buy a new car with his new found wealth. Talk to any real dope dealer and they’ll tell you that the hardest part about the game is finding a way to spend the money without drawing a suspicious eye. They say cash is king, and at one time that may have been true, but credit had long since ascended the thrown.
Even so, to Grey, staring at his neatly stacked profits, the feeling of success was overwhelming. Despite what the movies have taught us, a million dollars does not fit into a brief case, and if you’ve ever seen a pile of cash, then you know that 48 thousand dollars in small bills looks like it could very well be a million. Of course, only 30 of that was for Grey to play with. The other 18 was going towards the purchase of his next Key.
Grey had spent a number of years in the ranks of the small time hustlers, working the streets, buying his dope for 700 bucks an ounce or at best 2000 for a quarter pound, but he had finally broken through. They say you have to put in work on the ground floor if you ever want to see the penthouse, and Grey was anxious to see the view from the top.
Grey was a sharp dressed white kid from the lower middle class trying to make his way in an industry dominated by people of color in sagging jeans and bright bandanas representing their various sets. Most people would assume this to be a disadvantage, but in truth it was just the opposite. Being a white kid from the suburbs allowed Grey to slide by law enforcement officials without earning so much as a second glance and it also gave him access to all the college artsy types and rich frat kids rebelling against whatever it is rich kids rebel against.
“Yo Grey, what the fuck man, you ready or what?!” The voice coming from outside Grey’s one room shack belonged to Tom. Tom was a friend from the old neighborhood Grey used as a driver. All Grey had to do was keep him high and Tom worked without complaint.
“Hold on, I’ll be out in a minute.” Grey yelled back through his locked door. He lovingly placed 30 thousand dollars into his safe and the other 18 he stashed in his crotch. He picked up the forty caliber pistol he kept on his night stand, tucked it neatly into the front of his slacks and threw on his coat. He was almost ready for work now. Grey’s tiny studio house which had once been a guest house, looked much the way many dopers’ houses looked. There was a mattress thrown onto the floor, clothes hanging on a bar he had rigged on one of the walls, a piece of plywood resting on a couple of milk crates he used for a coffee table, and a big screen TV someone had given to him when they couldn’t pay their debts on time.
Grey opened the door and Tom immediately came bursting into the apartment as though he were coming in from the rain despite the beautiful day outside.
“Finally man, you about ready?” he asked taking a seat at one of the folding chairs surrounding the makeshift coffee table. “Is it cool if I get one before we head out?” Tom asked this question everyday and Grey handed him the plate anticipating his need. Tom picked up one of the various tooters from the coffee table, put the plate up under his chin and sniffed back hard.
“Ahh, I needed that bro. Thank you.” Tom said
“Aright well, you ready to go. We got some important shit to do today, I gotta re-up.” Grey explained as he ran some water over the plate and returned it to the stack.
“Damn, your taking me with you, are you sure that’s cool with the eses?”
“Your gonna have to wait in the car parked down the block, It might take a while but Ill hook you up with some extra shit tonight for your trouble.”
“Cool man,” His eyes lit up the way only a head’s eyes can when talking about dope. “So how much are you picking up?”
“Enough.” Grey never gave away much through his speech. With him it was always need to know. “Enough that you need to be careful driving. Seriously, no fuck ups today, ok?”
“Loud and clear brother, let’s just get this thing done.” Grey liked Tom. Tom knew exactly what he was. He never wasted time trying to act like he was something other than a dope fiend driver, and he never bragged about his involvement with Grey. The streets are full of kids trying to fake tough these days. They all wanna be ScarFace and won’t hesitate to let you know just how large they are. Of course 98% of the time you can’t believe a word of it. If a kid told Grey that he “moved crazy weight” and “busted his gat” on a regular basis, Grey just assumed that he lived in his mamma’s basement playing too much Grand Theft Auto. Of course, that was just in Grey’s world. The place they were going today was where the real gangsters stayed.
Grey’s attitude towards the ghetto was that you ghetto in, ghetto what you need, and ghetto out, hopefully in one piece.
Tom had an average looking car, a white ford explorer with no tinted windows, fancy rims, or any other attributes which might draw the eye of the police. They rode to the dope spot in silence, as they always did while conducting a risky business trip.
“All right man,” Grey said, “Pull over and drop me off. I’ll walk it from here.” Tom immediately pulled over and put the car in park.
“You want me to wait right here or what?” He asked, “It might look a little weird to any nosey neighbors if I’m just sitting here, especially if you take a while.”
“Just roll around till I call you, only don’t go too far, I don’t want to have to wait for you on the sidewalk with a backpack full of shit.”
“Aright, bet, be safe brother.” he said as Grey stepped out of the car. Grey hated the saying “be safe”, it always seemed like a jinx, and he refused to acknowledge it. One might wonder about a lifestyle and occupation which required the saying “be safe”. The truth was that the life Grey had chosen was not safe, and would never be safe, no matter how many precautions he took.
Grey walked down the street in the direction of the Mexicans house with his backpack slung over one shoulder, trying his best to look like a lost college student. The houses in this neighborhood were dilapidated, with paint peeling from the cheap siding and collapsing porches. It was early, by hood standards, so thankfully not many people had taken to hanging out on their front lawns and porches. Grey had no desire to be hassled on this street, and understood that if some of the people in the neighborhood knew he had 18 grand stuffed in his crotch he would never make it to the dope house alive.
The Mexican’s house was in slightly better condition than the rest of the houses in the neighborhood. There were a number of cars parked in the driveway and on the street in front, which acted as a status symbol of sorts, as well as a deterrent for any stick up kids who may have been watching the house. The idea being that you never knew how many people might be inside, or who they were. Gangsters are like wild dogs, always traveling in packs. Going into the house always made Grey nervous because he never knew who to expect or what their reaction to his presence might be. They seemed to be able to smell fear, again like wild dogs, but as long as Jacob was there, which he always was, Grey would be fine. Jacob liked Grey, he looked at him as a sort of mascot, calling him “little buddy” and throwing his huge arm around Grey’s shoulders whenever Grey came by.
Grey knocked on the door, which was quickly opened by Jacob’s girlfriend whose house it technically was. Jacob was in the living room and immediately reacted to Grey’s presence.
“Hey, hey, is that my little buddy.” He hollered drunkenly as he rose to his feet from his place on the couch. “wasup my little hustlen ass Caucasian brother.” Grey hated it when Jacob called him “little buddy,” it made him feel like Gilligan. Only instead of the skipper he was hanging with a 6.4, coked out, drunken Mexican with a prison chiseled physique and a 357 stuffed into his waistband. Grey always worried that if he wasn’t careful and said something foolish, that Jacob, in the spirit of the skipper, might pull the heavy pistol out of his pants and whack Grey over the head with it.
“Oh you know, same old shit, just a different day.” Grey flashed his crooked grin at Jacob as he spoke, hiding the discomfort he felt with the Mexican. “I need a re-up.”
“No shit,” said Jacob, “You picking up the real deal, same as last time?”
“No doubt bro.”
“Hell yeah, shit, I wish I had few more guys like you on my team, most of these busted ass hustlers sniff up half the shit I give em, and blow the rest of their money on bullshit, and then they come back around tryin to get a front. Not my little buddy though, you just keep makin that money son, you gonna be a shot callin motherfucker before you know it.
“Shit, I’m just tryin to get it like you got it man.”
“Let me tell ya bro, you just keep flyin low and stayin off that radar and you gonna have this whole city locked in no time.”
“I hope so.” Grey said genuinely
“Oh you will, you just stick with me little buddy, and you ain’t got nothing to worry about.” Jacob gave him one of those long looks intended to communicate his sincerity, but only succeeded in creeping Grey out. Grey could never maintain eye contact with Jacob for very long. His eyes were dark and empty with heavy black rings beneath them symbolizing his many years on the street. Grey could see the truth of what Jacob was in those eyes, and was reminded by them that the façade he presented to Grey was a lie. Grey was not his buddy, he was a friend to no one. Grey merely represented dollar signs to Jacob, and for some reason seemed to amuse him, nothing more.
Sitting on the living room floor, Anna, the daughter of Jacob’s girlfriend, giggled at something she found amusing on the television. Grey was surprised to see her intently watching Kill Bill, an exceptionally gruesome movie. Grey could not tell for sure how old she was, but thought that she couldn’t be much older than four or five.
“Aright bro,” Jacob said, “You got the money?”
Grey fished the 18 grand out of his crotch and handed it to Jacob.
“There you go bro, its all there.” Jacob gave Grey a look of disgust as he accepted the money.
“Damn ese, hide that shit in your shoe next time.” Jacob paused as he rose to his feet and rifled through the bills Grey had handed to him. “I gotta go into the back for a while and weigh out the leftovers from a couple of different bricks; I’ll be back with your shit in a little while.”
“I got my people waitin for me bro,” Grey said, “can’t you just give me a fresh brick.”
“Man your people aint goin nowhere Grey. Besides you’re supposed to make em wait, it lets em know that you’re the man. Just chill out, aright, have a servasa homey, I’ll be back in a minute.”
With that Jacob grabbed Grey’s backpack from the floor and headed for the back room. Grey hated hood politics. He supposed that the only reason Jacob was making Grey wait was to prove that he was the man, just as he had explained a moment ago. Grey sighed, realizing that it could very well be hours before Jacob returned from the rear of the house. This kind of thing had happened before.
Anna giggled again as someone on the TV was beheaded, sprouting a ludicrous fountain of blood from the top of their neck. Grey had spoken to Anna before and probably knew her better than he knew anyone else who lived there. He had always felt comfortable with children and had enjoyed Anna’s company during previous waits in the house.
“What are you watching Anna?” He asked, “Isn’t this flick a little violent for a three year old?” He said her age in a teasing manor knowing that she must be older than three.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, turning indignantly towards him, “I’m almost six!”
“No your not,” he said playfully, “your almost four, you can’t fool me.”
“Nah-uuh, I’m five and a half.”
“Are you sure, I could have sworn that you’re only three, judging by how tall you are.” Grey said, smiling a rarely genuine smile, “If your five and a half than you’re a serious shorty.”
“Are you teasing me Mr. Grey?” She asked grinning and cocking her head to one side.
“Oh, just a little.”
“I knew you were because I really am tall for my age.” She said in a matter of fact tone.
“Yeah you are,” Grey said, giving in, “and smart too. You remembered my name.”
“Of course, you showed me a magic trick last time.” Grey had made a quarter disappear using slight of hand while waiting for Jacob on his last re-up, he then delighted the child by making it appear to fall out of her nose and into her lap.
“That’s right, wow; you really are very smart you know.”
“I know.” She said grinning again, ringing her hands together as though embarrassed by the compliment.
“Ok then miss five and a half year old, wanna see me do a trick.” Grey asked still smiling. The innocence of the child had a way of bringing out his own childish nature, a piece of himself that he kept hidden in secrecy. The upside down world Grey lived in was not kind to men with such weakness.
“Ok, show me.”
“Alright.” Grey said as he stood up and walked behind the couch.
“Why…what’s this, a stair case in the middle of the floor?” The over exaggerated tone of bewilderment he used caused Anna to erupt in laughter.
“There’s no stairs there Mr. Grey.” She exclaimed holding her tiny fist to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggling. Grey was now standing with the couch between Anna and himself.
“There is too, watch.” He then placed himself so that his profile would be facing Anna and began to take steps forward. With each step he took he would bend his knees slightly so as to appear to be walking down a flight of stairs. After his head had disappeared below the couch he cried out, “Holy crap, There’s a whole game room down here. You guys have pinball and play station, and some stuff I don’t even recognize.” He heard Anna giggling from the other side of the couch and turned around mimicking the original trick, only in reverse. “How come you never told me you had such a cool room down there!?” He asked once he had reached the top of the phantom staircase.
Now Anna’s giggling was out of control, she wiped tears from her eyes and leaned back on her palms attempting to catch her breath. “You can’t fool me Mr. Grey, There isn’t a room down there. You were just pretending.”
“Nuh-ahh,” Grey said in mock defensiveness. “There is a room down there and you’ve just been trying to keep it a secret from me. I see how you are. This time I’m gonna take the elevator.”
Grey proceeded to stand up very straight facing Anna, pushed an imaginary button hanging in the air, looked at his watch impatiently (despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing one,) as though he were a business man late for a meeting, and suddenly bent his knees in a fluid motion which made him appear to be going down on an elevator. Anna then sprang to her feet, jumped onto the couch and looked over the side to catch Grey laying on his back just as he was about to begin yet another description of the fantastic room.
“See, I knew you were faking!” she said still laughing, “You can’t fool me Mr. Grey, I knew you were faking the whole time.”
“You did huh? Well you know what I think, I think that’s just cause you’re a big cheater!” With this Grey jump to his feet, grabbed Anna with both arms and began to tickle her mercilessly. “I’m just gonna have to call you little lady cheaterly from now on.” He exclaimed grinning as he held the hysterically laughing child squirming in his arms.
“Ok ok,” she said, begging him to stop, which he immediately did. “Do it again,” She said as she sat on the couch gasping for breath.
You want me to tickle you again….ok, have it your way.” Grey said, once again reaching for the child.
“No, do the stairs again.”
“Ok, I’ll do it one more time.” He agreed, despite the fact that he understood that agreeing to “do it one more time,” basically insured he would be forced to repeat the trick for the rest of the afternoon.
In the midst of doing the stair trick for the third or fourth time Grey began to hear the sounds of raised voices form the rear of the house. Jacob and Anna’s mother were fighting. Grey had heard the two yelling profanities back and forth before, usually over something extremely petty, and it had always made him slightly uncomfortable, though he had become used to it. It occurred to Grey that he had no idea what Anna’s mothers name was. For all the time he had been coming to the house he had never been introduced. Grey got the impression that she didn’t even speak English, for whenever he heard the two shouting it was always in Spanish.
Suddenly the sounds of the argument turned unmistakably physical. Anna’s mother had abruptly stopped yelling and Jacob’s savage voice was now accompanied by several loud bangs and crashes. The noise made Anna flinch as she stared through the kitchen towards the door which led to her mother’s bedroom. While only moments ago she had been full of laughter and giddiness, the way a child should be, she now stood with a knowing look on her face and fear in her eyes.
“Hey Anna,” Grey said smiling, attempting to distract her from the noises coming from the next room. “Wanna hear a joke?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Why were all the other numbers afraid of seven?”
“I don’t know” She said softly, still staring at her mother’s door.
“Cause seven ate nine, get it?” Grey said, trying to smile despite the situation.
Anna slowly turned towards him “That’s dumb,” she said, though a hint of a smile did touch the corners of her lips.
“Oh come on,” Grey said, his smile broadening now that he had drawn her attention away from the violence in the next room, “you know that’s funny. You can laugh, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Nuh-ahh, it was dumb” She was smiling now, staring down at Grey’s shoes, seemingly embarrassed again.
“Lemmie ask you something,” Grey said, “How did you get so cute.” Her smile widened as she rocked back and forth, shrugging her shoulders to indicate that she had no idea how it had happened.
Without warning, the door in the back of the house flung open and Anna’s mother ran into the kitchen bleeding profusely from a broken nose. She franticly threw open one of the drawers in the kitchen, Grey assumed she was trying to find a weapon of some sort, but Jacob was quickly behind her. He grabbed her roughly by the hair, threw her backwards onto the floor, and was on top of her before what Grey was seeing had registered in is mind.
“Let’s go outside sweetie,” Grey said to the terrified girl as he swept her up into his arms. As he quickly headed for the front door holding Anna, he could hear the repeated dull thuds of Jacob’s fists slamming into the face of the unknown mother.
Once outside they had left all the sounds and sights of the beating behind. Grey sat down on a lawn chair in the driveway holding Anna on his lap. This was not the first time Grey had witnessed a scene of brutality such as this one, and had in fact become numb to the violent nature of the streets a long time ago. It was however, the first time he had witnessed such a thing in front of someone so young.
Once again Grey tried to distract Anna from the violence occurring in the house.
“Hey, is that a basketball. You wanna shot some hoops, I bet your pretty good, being so tall and all.” This time Grey was too rattled himself do manage much of a smile. He could feel the girls shaking in his arms; she slowly turned her face toward his.
“Mr. Grey,” She said, her eyes shimmering with tears and the tragedy of shattered innocence. Grey saw the true reality of his own existence reflected within those eyes, and was broken by them. It was a look that would haunt him for many years to come.
“Can I call you daddy?”
“But I’m not your daddy sweetheart,”
“I know,” she said somewhat defensively, “I just mean for today, just for pretend, like the room at the bottom of the stairs.”
“I don’t know hone…….”
“Goddamn!” Jacob exclaimed as he came through the front door. Anna immediately jumped down from Grey’s lap and pretended to be interested in something on the other side of the driveway. “Sorry about that bro, that bitch just don’t fucking know when to shut-up, you know how these bitch’s be actin.”
“Yeah, sure man,” Grey replied feeling somewhat numb, unable to look Jacob in the eye.
“Anyway bro, here’s your shit. Lemmie know when you need another re-up. I’m always down to help my little buddy out.
Grey had Tom pick him up in front of Jacob’s house, not carrying if Jacob saw him or not. He just wanted to be away from there. As they drove away he saw Anna, standing behind the screen door, following him with those eyes as he left her behind.
“What’s the matter dude, you don’t look too happy.” Tom asked as they drove out of the neighborhood. When Grey didn’t respond Tom persisted, “Come on dude what’s up? You look like your fucking mom just died or something.”
“I don’t know brother.” Grey responded, and said nothing more the rest of the way home. For the first time he thought about the nature of his lifestyle, and tried to imagine how the path he had chosen might someday come to an end. Grey began to Pray.

Shades of Grey

(Adult Language/Content)
August 7, 1997, Providence KS.

Grey Townson stood arms resting on the pew in front of him mouthing the words to psalm 119 X without ever making a sound. His mother was in front of the congregation smiling brightly, leading the singing just as she did every Sunday, her hand swooping gracefully in a pattern designed to keep her audience humming along at the proper tempo for this particular psalm. Of course this was rarely if ever successful. In fact, the congregation almost always wound up leading his mother’s motions through their lack luster way of singing to their own beat, consequently every psalm, despite its designated rhythm, was sung at the same distracted pace. Even so, the singing was always Grey's favorite part of church regardless of how apathetic the congregation was in its efforts. Hearing the sweet sound of God's word put to music had a way of soothing the hardness of his heart and comforting the sorrows of his soul. Of course, being a teenager he could never allow anyone to witness his pleasure, after all if someone were to observe that he found even the smallest thing viewed as positive to be enjoyable, they might get the idea that he had the capability of having a positive outlook on various other things in his life. To Grey, this was quite simply unacceptable. After all, he was a teenager. And so he stood, head down staring at his feet, moving his lips just enough to ward of his fathers rebuke yet not so much as to give an impression of enthusiasm.

There was no instrumentation at Grey's church, no modern day praise songs or even time tested hymns. Exclusive Psalmody was the RP way. (That’s reformed Presbyterian for all you heathens out there.) Yet, even without a hip rock band on stage singing repetitive praise songs designed to invoke a passionate emotional response void of any real substance, the melodies of the scripture were indeed a beautiful thing. “Before thee let my cry come near, oh Lord true to thy word, teach me.” Grey recognized the beauty of the words despite the fact he could rarely understand their significance. Of course, had he understood the meaning of this particular line at that particular moment, his understanding in and of itself would have rendered the phrase meaningless.

After the service Grey and his brother, who was himself a fairly young man though married with two boys, went with the other young men to debate various aspects of the day’s upcoming sporting events, which was almost always a football game. They would discuss the local NFL team, each with their own reasons as to why their team sucked yet again this year, how badly the coach had bungled last weeks calls, or how so and so couldn’t make a freaking play if his life depended on it. Occasionally one of the teenage boys would voice an opinion of optimism and would immediately be ridiculed for his ignorance. Grey would stand on the edge of the circle with his brother interjecting intermittently, saying things like, “yeah he sucks”, or, “yeah they suck” in order to fit in to the conversion.

It was always at this moment that Grey would take his opportunity to seek out and talk to Samantha Jenkins. Sam was without a doubt, the coolest girl Grey had ever encountered in his young life. Her hair was long, bleached with dyed strips of pink and orange. She wore small tank tops revealing her midsection and a studded belt to hold up her incredibly baggy skater style jinco jeans. She had a bracelet with little spikes on it and wore lip gloss with tiny sparkles that drove Grey completely out of his mind. She was the only teenager in the church who didn’t go to the private Christian school, oh no, she went to public school. And, as if all this weren’t already too good to be true, Grey had recently discovered that Sam had a crush on him, Grey Townson!!!!! Grey had wondered to himself how such a thing could be possible but after many hours of contemplation realized the futility in asking himself such a question. One might as well ask oneself how a beam of light can be made up of both particle and wave, or how when said beams are projected through the earths atmosphere in the early morning hours they display a work of artistic beauty so vivid and extraordinary that mankind, despite all its accomplishments, has yet to duplicate. It was a miracle of nature, and Grey would be damned if he was going to ruin it by thinking.

The approach towards the opposite sex was always a delicate procedure for Grey. He must not seem overly eager while at the same time he must not seem disinterested. Later in his life Grey would learn that women’s desire and need for directly contradictory modes of behavior in a man was just one of the things which made them insane. Trying to understand such things was again like trying to understand beams of light, although this was less a miracle of nature and more of a natural disaster.

Grey made his way over to the entrance of the nursery where Sam stood holding one of the church’s many children. She looked so cute, puffing out here cheeks in a comical fashion causing the toddler to erupt into a giggle fit. Grey did his best to ignore the anxiety which accompanied every approach, as if he had just walked through a spider web of self doubt yet remained undeterred in his path brushing aside the strands of panic seeking to hold him back. This was the ritual. He then attempted to put on the smoothest carefree slickster smile he could manage. A look that would, later in his life, get him into stranger places and more trouble than one might think possible, but for now it was pure gold.

“Hey Sam, what’s going on....”, aaahhh the hard part was over. As usual he was greeted with a mischievous smile and the sweet spark in her eyes, as if she had her own private joke which she stubbornly refused to share with anyone else.

“Hi Grey, how are you doing,” her voice was soft, yet held great confidence. “I would have thought you would have dragged your parents out of here by now, aren’t the chiefs playing today.”

The coy smile that accompanied this remark was clearly to let Grey know that she understood he had only stuck around in order to speak with her.

“Yeah well, you know how hard it is to drag them away from their Sunday rounds, besides the Chiefs freaking suck this year.” The truth was that Greys parents had broken away from their individual conversations and now stood together next to the door, which was the sign that they were ready to go. “Hey,” Grey exclaimed as if he had just remembered something despite the fact that he had planned on this line of conversation throughout the service. “I heard you and some of you friends got busted breaking into the school last week,” by “the school” grey meant south junior high school.

“Yeah, it was really dumb, we got into massive trouble the next day. Principle Marsh is such a freaking tight ass, I swear, you couldn’t pound an inciline needle up his butt hole with a ball pin hammer.” Grey laughed and nodded his head as if he knew exactly what she meant despite the fact he knew absolutely nothing about principle Marsh or for that matter any of the public school staff members.

“Water tight, huh?”

“Hell yeah, we got three days out of school suspension. We weren’t even stealing or vandalizing anything”

“Yeah that’s right, I heard you guys got caught in the gym playing kick ball or something.”

“Yep, I told you it was dumb, but hey, what fun is life without getting into a little bit trouble.” The mischievous smile was back again and Grey stood mesmerized by it, unable to look away, powerless against its charms. He had to say something before it got awkward but what came out of his mouth next he could not believe.

“So, when are you going to invite me to come out and get into some trouble.” He waited breathless praying that she wouldn’t respond with a sarcastic remark or one of those, are you kidding me looks. But of course, as he had suspected he had nothing to worry about.

“Yeah, actually me and some of my friends are going out tonight if you wanna come.” She lowered her voice, “Andy stole a bottle of peach schnapps from his dad and I think were going to go to the park or something.” Now that the incriminating conversation had past she once again spoke in a normal tone. “So you wanna come along maybe.”

Grey was so overwhelmed with joy that his slickster smirk almost became a grin. So much so in fact that he was forced to summon every ounce of his will power in order to keep his oh so cool demeanor from turning into childlike giddiness. “Yeah, that sounds really cool. Besides what else am I gonna do tonight, go to youth group.” Sarcasm is the bastion of the weak and cowardly. Something Grey's father told him on a regular basis.

“Ok cool, I’ll just give you a call tonight when I find out exactly what were going to do.”

“Ok, sounds good.” Now he was ginning, he couldn’t help it, but that was all right because so was Sam and for a moment they were trapped in one another’s eyes.

“Um, I think your parents are ready to go.” Grey look across the foir at his parents who were waiving at him.

“Oh, well I guess I better go, see you tonight Sam”

“Ok Grey, bye.”

Grey walked out of the church that day feeling as though he had just single handedly
conquered a savage army and planted his flag in the soil of an unknown land, thus claiming it as
his own. This was perhaps a bit premature but the feeling was undeniable. Now all he had to do
was go home watch the chiefs loose, eat lunch with his family, and count the seconds until the
sun went down.
********

December 02, 2007, Dodge City KS.

It was ten years later and thoughts of Sam and that Sunday never failed to depress Grey. The memories crept into his mind despite the years he had spent trying desperately to forget, damning him to relive the events of August 07, 1997 over and over again. As if he needed any help becoming depressed at work.

For Grey working the assembly line at the automotive parts factory was a living, breathing, death. He supposed that’s why his coworkers all looked so much like zombies pacing the factory floor. He sometimes imagined himself as a slave. It made things easier to think of his life in this way. He would visualize himself as a once proud young man ripped from the former glory of his old life only to be forced to toil without reprieve for the profit of his masters. He would picture himself shackled to his workstation, the rhythm of the assembly line suddenly doubling as the floor managers deep booming voice cried out over the intercom, “Production speed!!”

It was easier to think of things in this way because every time the simple fact that Grey was there by choice entered his mind it was all he could do to resist the urge to bolt for the nearest exit. He often wondered why it was that he could not be happy with his life as those around him seemed to be, and was once again reminded of Sam.

After Grey was released from the living hell of his job he was immediately returned to the slightly less painful purgatory of his life. He quickly punched his time card threw on his coat and gloves and began the walk home. It was the winter of 2007 now, 10 years since the day that had fatefully changed his life forever. He found it funny how people inevitable measure time in terms of tragedy. A German Jew counts the years since the holocaust, the entire world counted the years since the murder of Christ, and he counted the years since he had been left by Sam.

The sound of the snow compacting beneath Greys footsteps grated on his nerves as fingernails across a chalkboard. Grey hated walking. He was forced to walk everywhere he went due to the multiple DUI’s he had been charged with over the past several years. Greys doctors claimed that he was a textbook example of an alcoholic and a drug abuser. Grey claimed that doctors were absolutely full of shit in every regard. He supposed that they were probably both right.
Grey lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply as he rounded the corner of 17th and Harper. The smoke warmed his insides, reminding him that he was officially off work and that the witching hour would soon be at hand. Beer thirty baby, next stop numb Ville followed shortly by hangover junction. He new exactly what the scene inside his house was going to be before he even opened the door. It was, after all, the same every day. Sure enough, as he walked into the disaster zone of his small two bedroom house there, sitting on his couch was his roommate, shoeless boy wonder, smoking bong in one hand, X-box controller in the other. Shoeless sat surrounded by a plethora of empty pizza boxes, ramin noodle cups, a variety of beer cans and bottles, dirty cloths and dishes from last week and an empty garbage can someone had gotten out in order to clean up before they quickly lost the desire or became distracted.

Grey didn’t even know the shoes real name, (the shoe is short for shoeless). Grey used to think that shoeless was his real name spelled with a sch and that he must be Jewish. Later someone had explained to him that it was actually a nickname the shoe had received in college. He had been so lazy in his dorm days that he quite literally never put on a pair of shoes for months at a time. He and Grey had been roommates for a year or so now and Grey had only seen him leave the house on rare occasions and even then it was without shoes. When they had parties on the weekends in order to attract the young and impressionable sort of girls only college parties can provide, the shoe used to impress the party goers by putting out lit cigarettes on the bottom of his feet. Shoeless was somehow quite the socialite despite the fact that he never moved from the couch.

“What’s up you fucking bum!” Grey exclaimed jovially as he burst through the door, “You get up to take a shit today or just do it in your pants again?” Grey was once again wearing his patented slickster smirk as he parked himself in one of the couches opposite the shoe.

“Actually,” he replied, “that nasty bitch you brought home last night wouldn’t get out of here this morning so I took one on her face instead.”

“Dude I bet that freak probably liked it”

“Oh she did.” he said in a matter of fact tone as he handed Grey the bong, “You know how the ladies love my funk bro, they cant get enough.”

If Grey thought that the first drag of his cigarette after work was good than the warm smooth thick liquid smoke from the bong filling his lungs was like gold. As he cleared the chamber he quickly plugged his nostrils shut with one hand so that as he began to gag on the deliciousness he wouldn’t loose any smoke through his nose. He soon couldn’t contain himself and erupted, coughing out a thick cloud of smoke which hung swirling about the ceiling.

“Goddamn!” Grey shouted as he jumped to his feet and headed for the refrigerator still coughing. He opened the fridge and removed a handle a Captain Morgan and a two litter of Dr. Pepper. He had been released from his job and it was now time to get to work. Greys job paid the bills but getting fucked up was his career. He took the ingredients over to the kitchen counter made some room by brushing some empty hamburger helper boxes and crusted over paper plates onto the floor replacing them with the rum and Dr. Pepper. He quickly threw some ice into his drinking glass, which was the only clean glass in the house, took a chug of rum strait from the bottle to get him started and proceeded to mix himself a cocktail. Now he could relax. The hit of weed had put a smile on his face and aided him in shrugging off the anxious feelings left behind from work as he settled into the couch once again, free to slip gently into oblivion.
Everyone has their roles to play in life and Grey was no different. Sadly, as of right now Grey’s role was of the clever alcoholic, which, as depressing as that is, is still better than just the alcoholic. People don’t like an unhappy drunk, but as long as he kept the smile on his face and looked up from his drink once in a while just long enough to make people laugh he would never be short on friends. Grey devoted a great deal of energy to this cause over the years but it seemed to be becoming exceedingly difficult of late. To Grey life felt like a vacuum; cold, dark, and containing an emptiness intent on tearing him limb from limb.

Something Sam had once asked him long ago had stuck firmly in Grey’s head, and it was something he often thought of with a feeling of guilt and remorse. She had asked how he managed to be so happy. He remembered being frustrated by the question due to the fact that he, in his teenage years, had tried so hard to give off the impression of a discontented youth, a facade he believed to be hip at the time. Grey had countered her comment by going on an extended rant about how it was all just an act, and had gone into great detail about how he believed life and the world around him was a terrible thing, full of hypocrisy, corruption, and shattered dreams. He never imagined his words would have such an impact.

Grey was now on his front porch smoking a cigarette and staring blankly at the cars as they passed by his house. Looking back he realized how ironic their conversation had been. Sam had been looking for some kind of hope, and for whatever reason she had found that hope in him. Meanwhile, Grey had been trying to impress her through his lack of hope. How could he have known?

As a car drove by he saw Sam’s face in the driver as it passed, as he frequently did, but of course, it wasn’t her. He would never see her again, at least not in this life. Lessons in life are hard learned; Grey wondered how many more he would have to endure before the Lord might hear his cry.