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 Now those memories had been replaced by the need to vomit.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.”