Short Story Collection 1

Wednesday, April 07, 2010
O’Leary’s
By Robert Baltimore
1
Table of Contents
Cause It’s Bobby .................................................................................................................3
Mr. Ekwensu ......................................................................................................................9
The Perfect Storm .............................................................................................................16
It Never Rains Underwater ..............................................................................................17
Cheers ................................................................................................................................22
Under the Blue Moon ........................................................................................................22
One More Night ................................................................................................................23
He that diggeth a pit, shall fall into it.................................................................................29
2
Cause It’s Bobby

“This is my costume. I'm a homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else.” –
Wednesday Addams
By 3am Bobby Derringer will be dead.
That rotten son of a bitch had to die, that I’m sure of. But…how does someone like me become a killer?
The story began about two years ago…
Bobby Derringer started at Murphy, Durshowitz, & Keller almost two years ago. January 31st, 2006. I
remember this day because my birthday is February 1st, and instead of doing body shots out of the new
intern’s navel at O’Leary’s, I spent my 27th birthday getting Bobby Derringer caught up on the Anavrin
case.
Early morning, February 2nd 2006, Offices of Murphy, Durshowitz, & Keller
“No... I just don’t understand, let’s go back. Anavrin is an anti-depressant, right?”
“Yes”
“Made by Alsimodore Corp. Right?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“See that’s where I’m getting confused. Who is Alsimodore?”
“The distributor, Bobby… we’ve been through this. Can we move on?”
“Well…why are we suing Alsimodore? There’s no negligence by these guys. I think we’re wasting our
time here. Let’s concentrate on the maker… The Syracuse Corporation.”
“It’s a strict liability case, Bobby. We don’t have to prove negligence on the distributors.”
“But why? We needed to prove it against the makers, why not these guys?
“Negligence is implied. This is first year torts, come on.”
“I know, I know …but at NYU...”
“At NYU what? It’s the same thing at NYU as it is at Turro.”
3
“You went to Turro?” Bobby said, as he looked at me sideways out of the corner of his eyes,
condescendingly.
“Yes. And?”
“Oh…no. it’s a good school to.”
I rubbed between my eyes, and took a deep breathe.
“The pill was defective when it came from the manufacturer; we’ve been going over this for hours. We
really need to be drafting a memorandum for the partners and starting our summons and complaint.”
“Sure, sure… write something up and I’ll take a look at it.”
“What?”
“You can write can’t you?”
“You’ve gotta be outta your fuckin’ mind.”
“What did you say to me?”
“I said, you’ve gotta be outta your fuckin’ mind…it’s 3:30 in the morning. I’m tired, and I want to go
home. This is your case now. I’m not doing your work for you.”
Sucking on his teeth in annoyance, Bobby said “I see, it is late… I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll take care
of it.”
Without any other conversation, I collected my things, got my coat from the closet, and exited the office.
I thought, “I can’t believe that guy. What a dick. I know what he meant by that comment, ‘You went to
Turro?’ and who does he think he is telling me to do his work. I should of slapped his…Fucking Prick. ”
I slammed the door of my car, started the engine, and started fumbling through my CDs.
Let me see, no….no…no…ah… Ani DiFranco… nice!
I the CD in the radio and leaned back closed my eyes, and tried to put Bobby Derringer and his insanity out
of my mind.
I put the car in gear, made a left on Morris Ave out of the parking lot, and headed towards Morristown.
I might be able to get a few hours sleep before I have to do that discovery request for Major Lraep.
9:30 am February 2nd, 2006, Offices of Murphy, Durshowitz, & Keller
I was sitting at my desk reviewing the discovery request from the Somerset Prosecutor’s Office, on Major
Lraep’s domestic violence case when I received a phone call from one of the partner’s.
“O’Shea… can you come in my office, for a moment? I need to talk to you.”
“Yes sir, but I need to review these documents before 1pm. I have to brief Mr. Lraep at 3pm.”
“This won’t take a second, O’Shea.”
4
What now? This guy pisses me off. Fucking yuppie scum. He couldn’t be more than 35, and was making
mid six-figures, living in Edgewater…God, I hate yuppies.
“Yes sir…”
What is Bobby doing here?
“Take a seat, O’Shea.” The partner says pointing to the seat next to Bobby in front of his desk.
“Is there something wrong, Harry?” I answered, as I took the seat he was pointing to.
“First off, I want to let you know I’m not mad.”
What the hell is he talking about?
“Ok.”
I look over at Bobby, and he’s got this self-satisfied grin on his face.
“I’d also like to emphasize that at Murphy, Durshowitz, & Keller we are a team. I’d like to think of us as a
family, don’t you?”
“Ok…, but I don’t think I’m following you.”
”Bobby here says that you refused to brief him on the Anavrin case, and you insulted him last night before
you stormed out the office.”
I turned sharply to look at Bobby, then back to the partner.
“No. That’s not what happened. I…”
“Its okay, Bobby and I have discussed this, and we’re willing to let by gones be by gones. “
I was turning beet red, and I could feel pools of sweat forming underneath my armpits. I wanted to strangle
em’ both.
I turned to look at Bobby again, this time through squinted eyes.
Have you ever seen Days of Thunder? Do you remember that shit-eating grin Tom Cruise had on his face
through the whole movie? Well that’s what this prick looked like through the whole meeting, and
especially now.
I was speechless.
This was new territory. I’d only been in the corporate world for 4 years, and I had never been purposely
torpedoed like this. I had heard that these people existed, but I had never actually met one.
I looked at Bobby with my mouth open for a noticeably long time. His designer suit reeked of too much
cologne, as if he was either trying to show people that he could afford to waste it or he was trying to hide
some more heinous odor… like his rotting soul. His hair was elegantly disheveled as if he spent hours
tousling his hair and lathering on hair gel, in the mirror that morning to get that, “just-got-out-of-bed look,”
to last all day long.
He looked like new money, and I couldn’t stand it.
5
I got up to leave without acknowledging the fact that the partner had finished delivering his decree, when…
“Oh yea, O’Shea… you’ll be working with Bobby here on the Anavrin case from here on out,” he then
turns and nods at Bobby, “Second chair…yes… so you’re on board?” He asked me with a coffee stained
smile.
I turned, closed the door, packed up my things.
I took a two hour lunch, left the office early, and spent the rest of the day at the gun range.
12:30pm, May 27th, 2006, Backyard of Mr. Murphy’s Shore Home
I wasn’t coming, but she made me.
I was there with Leticia.
I just started seeing her.
She’s wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack, and I understood what she said only half the time, but she gave
great head and could down shots of vodka like she was drinking Gatorade.
I met her at O’Leary’s about three weeks before, and we had been on a couple dates. However, when she
breaks off into the Ukrainian or Russian or whatever it is she speaks on the phone, I always have the
sinking suspicion she’s talking about something I shouldn’t be hearing. Maybe I watch too many James
Bond movies growing up.
That’s her…over there by all the Hoboken preppie types, laid out near the pool, by all the preppies.
Oh she’s no preppie… she’s from Irvington.
“O’Shea, come over here I want you to meet some people.” Mr. Murphy called to me from by the bar he
had built into his patio on the side of house. Some people have too much money, and time on their hands.
I walked over to the bar area and there were three older looking men, a younger man, and two middle aged
women standing there, smiling at me. They were all smiling, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile.
It was kind of creepy. I thought I could almost here the chant of “join us” coming faintly from behind the
bar.
Mr. Murphy was a big, beefy man, with sweaty red hair…well at least that day it was sweaty looking. He
had on Plaid knee shorts, black dress socks, brown sandals, with a Hawaiian shirt and wife beater t-shirt on.
“O’Shea… get over here,” he says as he puts his arm around my neck and tried to guide me to the middle of
the smiling mob and pointing at each smiling and obviously intoxicated face, “ this is Maria Donnelly, the
Burlington County prosecutor…Patricia Barry, Senior partner with Dietz, Ivanovich, Clooney, Sanderford,
& Barry…back off Pat she’s ours…. Robby Griffin, Assistant General Counsel for Prudential Financial,
David Smith, General Counsel for University Hospital, Patty Rourke,General Counsel for the New Jersey
Nets,” then pointing to the younger man, “ This is Patrick, my son… he just graduated from Syracuse
Law... Couldn’t get him to go to a city school like us… right O’Shea.”
It was obvious what Mr. Murphy was doing. Four years with the firm and dozens of firm functions and he
chooses today treat me like a long lost buddy.
6
I was never a big fan of the ethnic bating in the legal profession. I’m not even Irish. My step-dad was, and
my mom changed my name when I was like 5, but it was a key to the door. You have to pick a side, and I
did.
“Oh yeah, get Derringer over here… BOBBY GET OVER HERE!” Mr. Murphy yells drunkenly across the
yard.
Bobby was over by the pool squatting next to Leticia, who was laid out in one of the deck chairs. Leticia,
who had sunglasses on, didn’t move and it looked like she was staring out into space trying to ignore him.
What does he think he’s doing? He knows we came together, what the hell is his problem?
Bobby came trotting over with a towel drapped over his shoulders, some type of flower beach shorts, and
that hair.
Mr. Murphy goes through all the introductions, except for me.
“Bobby here played for St. Patrick’s in…what did you say 98…99, show em’ the ring boy.”
Bobby puts out his hand as if he’s Princess Diana or some fucking body… God, what a prick.
“Point Guard, sir… I was on my way to Kentucky, but I figured schooling was more important so I went to
Colgate.”
Asshole.
“See… that’s a good lad.”
“You just completed that Anavrin case too didn’t you… got us a pretty big score there, Derringer.”
That’s enough… I did all the work on that case, because Bobby had no clue what he was doing… He
wouldn’t know hearsay from hair gel if it wasn’t for me.
I tried to slink back over to the pool, I’d really had enough, and I was almost drunk. I walked over to the
pool and tapped Leticia on the shoulder.
“Yes…” she said in that deep Eastern European voice.
“Were leaving… and you gotta drive.”
“OK…but why.”
“I’ll tell you in the car, but if I don’t get outta here I’m not gonna have a job come Monday.”
She went got dressed and brought the car around.
We didn’t talk all the way home.
3:30 PM, O’Leary’s Bar and Grill, October 6th 2006
“Another round for Bobby!”
I sipped on my Guinness and tried to be a good sport.
It was the end of summer hours and this was the final early happy hour of the year.
7
The new receptionist has been groped by almost every new associate and partner here. I’m sure she won’t
last much longer than the others. This firm runs through secretaries like a whore house does condoms and
morning after pills.
“Hey… O’Shea… get over here.” Bobby calls from the bar, and pats the seat next to his.
Bobby had been really nice to me for the past couple of weeks. Ever since he got a bonus check from that
Anavrin settlement.
What did I get… squat…
“Sit down O’Shea… I never got to thank you for all your help.”
Almost a year later.
“Don’t worry about it Bobby… that’s my job.”
“You city types are alright with me.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Bobby said as he turned back to his drink at the bar.
Bobby looked like he wanted to say something
8
Mr. Ekwensu
“The Devil's voice is sweet to hear.” – Stephen King
Yesterday, I was sitting at O’Leary’s when this guy sat down at my booth with a funny accent,
wearing a suit, reeking of after shave. I didn’t look up from my drink. It’d been a long day and I just
wanted to drink my beer, go home, and pass out…that’s it. No small talk, no nothing. But yet, this guy sits
down at my table, pulls out some tricked out IPhone type contraption, places it on the table, and stares at
me with these bright green eyes. I’ve seen green eyes before, but these were bright, and maybe because his
skin was really dark like black oak wood, that’s what made it stand out.
I pulled my head out of my glass long enough to see his sharp facial features. It made him look
rigidly regal. Like his face was a mask, sculpted out of rock.
And we sat there… in silence, staring.
“Hi…” I said, timidly to break the eerie silence between us.
“Yes?” he replied back with a smile full of perfectly straight pearly white teeth, and red-black
gums. I had never seen teeth so perfectly white, like ivory keys on a piano.
“I’m Mortimer… but everyone here calls me Morty… What’s your name?”
“My name is Danlami Ekwensu. Don’t feel compelled to talk to me, I merely choose this seat
because there were no others booths available. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
“Ah….nah, you’re good.”
“Look I apologize… let me buy you a drink.”
“No need… I just wanna drink my beer and head home.”
“No, I insist. I am at your table, it’s the least I can do.”
I thought, alright pal it’s your dime.
He returned with one glass of water and one Jack and coke, and pushed the jack and coke in front
of me. I hadn’t had one of these in years. Whisky used to be my drink of choice. I didn’t want to be rude
so I finished my beer, and took the Jack.
“Thanks.” I said. Danlami raised his glass to me and drank.
“Danny”
“Huh?”
9
“People call me Danny”
“Nice to meet cha’ Danny.”
“Likewise, I’m sure…one second.” Danny said as he put one finger up, signaling that he wanted
me to wait.
Whatever, man… I sipped at my drink and studied the man carefully, and wondered. I listened
carefully at the conversation. He had the IPhone on speakerphone, so I could hear both sides of the
conversation. I don’t know if he did this on purpose or whether he was just oblivious to his surroundings.
Regardless, I listened in.
“I’m so tired, I just need another fifteen minutes, and I’ll be alright,” the female voice from the
other end of the phone whined out.
“Well, hit the snooze and take an extra fifteen minutes. Wear a sweater, because I doubt if you’ll
have time iron, and your skirt will just have to be wrinkled. Screw what they think.” Danny said into the
air, looking unconcerned.
“You want another drink? “ Danny asked as I heard a slight click coming from the phone.
Was he talking to me? I tried to avoid eye contact so he didn’t think I was just listening to his
phone call, but how could he think I wasn’t listening? His phone was on speaker and he was sitting at my
booth. I wasn’t sure, so I pointed to my chest.
“Yes you,” he answered with a broad white toothed smile, “Who do you think I am talking to…
here Waiter bring us a bottle of your finest whisky.”
“No man, you don’t have to.”
“Do you want to drink with me or not. If not, get up from my table,” Danny waved his hands
towards the crowded bar. I stayed put. “I thought so… now sit, and enjoy.”
The waiter appeared seconds later with a bottle of whisky I had never even heard of, and two shot
glasses. Danny tipped the guy a hundred dollar bill, waived him away, opened the bottle and began to pour
the whisky into the two shot glasses.
“Who are you?” I asked in stunned amazement that anyone would tip someone a hundred dollar
bill, as I took my shot of whisky.
“I have told you who I am,” as he put up his finger again to silence me.
The phone sprung to life again.
“He’s so cute and he’s nice to me. I know I shouldn’t but it’s just so hard to say no.” A male voice
came through the speaker now
“You should do what you feel is right, does it feel right?” Danny asked the man on the other end
of the phone.
“Well yeah, but he’s married and so am I. That can’t be right.”
“You have to do what you feel is right, if this feels right to you, you should do it. Why deny
yourself?” Danny said as he lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out from his nose. I could have been
hallucinating, it could have been the alcohol, but it made him look some kind of animal through the smoke,
10
but only for a second. I blinked fast, about three times, and there was Danny puffing on his cigarette,
listening to this strange phone call.
“Your right, I mean she’ll never know right, and it’ll only be this once.” The voice reasoned with
Danny.
“Sure.” Danny growled through the large clouds of smoke coming from his nose, as the phone
went silent.
Now I’m no saint by any stretch of the imagination, and I didn’t think I was hallucinating, but if
my ears did not deceive me the strange man sitting across from me, buying drinks for me, just convinced a
married man to have a homosexual affair with another married man.
Danny poured me another shot; he looked as if he was sensing that I was about ask a question
about the peculiar phone call he was just on. But I resigned myself to stay out of it. I figured that was his
business, and as long as he was buying the drinks I’d stay out of his personal affairs.
The whisky was going down a lot smoother now. I placed the glass next to the bottle in
anticipation of the next shot.
“So Danny…where you from?” I asked in an awkward attempt to make small talk.
“Millburn.”
“Really… I went to Millburn High.”
“Yeah?”
“No bullshit. What year’d you graduate?”
I hadn’t gone to Millburn High, I was from Piscataway, but I figured Danny wasn’t from Millburn
either. It was something in the way he said it. I wasn’t sure. And there were’nt too many blacks in Short
Hills, if you know what I mean.
“A long time ago.” Danny said as he poured my next shot. I didn’t drink it though. I had just
taken three quick shots and even an experienced drinker like me knew the virtue of moderation and pacing
oneself.
“What year?”
Danny motioned at the shot glass and put his long finger up again to signal that he needed silence,
so I looked down into the shot glass, but all my attention was directed at who he could possibly be talking
to now on the phone. After the last bizarre phone call, what in the world he would tell this person.
“Mommy and daddy are getting a divorce, and it’s all my fault” the little girl’s voice said on the
other end of the phone.
“Yes…it is.” Danny lowered his head and whispered into the phone
My eyes almost popped out of my head. Am I hearing this right? Did he just tell a little girl that it
was HER fault that her parents were splitting up What kind of monster was this guy?
“I walked in on Daddy and Ms. Jessica doing lay down kisses.”
“That’s why they’re getting a divorce. Because you saw that…Daddy doesn’t love you any
more.”
11
“HEY!” I said.
Danny flashed his green eyes in my direction and gave me a look that chilled me to the core. He
didn’t speak; the look was all that I needed to get the point that he meant business. I couldn’t understand
what was going on. Who the hell were these people calling him and why was giving such horrible advice.
This guy was a monster, I thought. I need to get out of here, but as soon as I thought it Danny poured me
another shot and motioned his finger downwards. I reluctantly sat. I wanted to find out more about what
this guy was doing, why he would say such things to a little girl, plus the whisky was really.
“Mommy said Daddy has to go away. Is it because of what I saw?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
“I’ll be good. I want mommy and daddy to stay together.”
“It’s too late…Mommy is making daddy go away, because of what you saw… and there’s nothing
you can do.”
I could hear the little girl begin to sob on the end.
“Shhhh… now get some sleep. You and Mommy are going to have a long day tomorrow.”
“Bye Bye.”
“Bye sweetie.”
I was in complete shock. “You’re a fucking monster you know that. How could you talk to a little
girl that way?” I said.
Danny lit another cigarette. I heard the little girl sobbing in the back ground, and without
acknowledging that I had spoke he ran his hand over the iphone, and it went silent.
“When have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself in your life.” Danny said as he
looked at the screen of the phone.
“What? You don’t know me? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I know you better than you think. Mort-im-mer”
The phone rang again, Danny took a long drag from his cigarette and I heard a voice came from the phone.
“I don’t have a condom, should I still do it.”

“Sure.”
“What if she gets pregnant?”
“What if…not your problem right?”
“What if she has something?”
“She looks clean right, she doesn’t have anything.”
“Yeah, she is hot...and I am hard.”
12
“Go for it.”
The phone went dead again. “You might be one of the dumbest people I’ve ever met.” I said.
Danny put the cigarette out on the table and finally looked up from the phone. He stared through
me with those piercing green eyes coming out of those chiseled features on his face. He seemed to be
staring directly into my soul.
“How could you care about that boy? You don’t even know him. In three weeks that boy will
rape his father’s girlfriend. In five years, that boy will rob a liquor store and shoot a pregnant store
attendant in the face, after she gives him the money just to see her bleed. In fifteen years, he will die in the
gas chamber. Now, knowing all that do you still care for this boy.”
I sat with stunned; my mouth was sagging. I couldn’t believe what I just heard.
“Are you fucking kidding me, how could you know all that? Are you a fortune teller or
something?”
The phone rang again.
“She’s making me so angry! She just doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up!” An angry voice
came from the other end of the phone.
“Beat her.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“If you love her, than you will show her. Strike her down, and show her that you love her.”
“I love her so much, but she won’t let me a man” The angry man said, as he apparently was
choking back tears.
“Beat her, that will show her you are a man, and that she is worthy of your love.”
The phone went silent.
I took another shot. I couldn’t believe it. This guy sat at my table and gave a stream of horrible advice to
random people who are calling some type of bad advice hotline. I could no longer sit here and listen to this.
I started to gather my things, when the phone rang again.
“I just can’t go on without him.” A girl said in a low dulcet, depressing tone.
“I know.” Danny replied.
“I have these pills.”
“I know,” Danny replied again, looking in unconcernedly at the table, playing with something out
of sight underneath it.
“It’s just not worth going on; I didn’t get into Princeton… Davy left me Christina. What’s the
point right?”
“There is none.”
“I have these razors, that’ll show everybody. I’ll just open up my wrists.”
13
“That’ll show em’” Danny said.
“I wrote this note, it says…”
“I know what it says,” Danny interrupted, “isn’t time for you to be getting on with it.”
The girl started to sob.
“Shhhhh…it’ll be over soon.”
“I just can’t go on. It’l be ok right?”
“I know…it will.” Danny said in a low soothing tone.
The phone went dead.
I stared at Danny. He had just convinced some one to take their own life. That was a crime, right?
I’m no lawyer, but I knew you couldn’t do that, that was just wrong. “You are a monster. That girl is to
die, and you did it. I can’t believe you. She’s just a kid.” I shouted at him.
I picked up my jacket, briefcase, and turned to leave, when I heard something jiggling from behind
me. Danny jiggled my car keys gently, and said in voice devoid of any accent, which actually sounded like
my voice.
“You forget something…have a safe drive home.”
I looked at him suspiciously, grabbed my keys, and headed towards the door. I thought as I
approached my car that I should not be driving. Not after drinking all that whisky. I should take a cab
home. I only lived down Morris Ave., maybe I could walk. I opened the door to my car, and settled in the
front seat when my phone went off.
I hit the talk button.
“Go ahead, it’s only around the corner. You’ll be fine, it was only a few shots and you’re a really
safe driver.” Danny said on the line.
“But I’ve had so much to drink, I think’d be safer if I just caught a cab.” I answered.
“Then you have to come back and get your car, how are you going to get to work tomorrow, and
what if you have to go out later. It’s only down the street. You’ll be fine.”
The phone went dead.
In local news, an area man plowed into a school bus of teenagers after running a red light heading east on
Morris Avenue in Union, NJ today. The driver of the car, identified as Mortimer Lewinsky of Union age 42
was killed instantly. Two students were killed in the collision and 13 others were injured. The school bus
contained members of Millburn-Short Hills High School Football team and marching band. The bus was
returning from a football game at Union High School where Millburn upset the heavily favored Union
Farmers. Mr. Lewinsky is reported to have had a BAC of almost .17.
14
People used to ask me all the time if I cared if I lived or died, and I would always tell them I didn’t know…
but now I do.
15
The Perfect Storm

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation ... A
stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of
mankind." - Henry David Thoreau
16
It Never Rains Underwater

_______________________________________________________________________
_
“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else.” – Irvine Welsh
The snow fell gently on the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in southern New Hampshire,
covering the countryside and the streets of the small towns all through the valley. The townspeople, many
of whom had lived in the valley for generations were preparing for the upcoming winter festivities. In the
valley is the town of Devonshire, New Hampshire which sits the sprawling campus of New Hampshire
College. On the hill overlooking the countryside campus is the fraternity house of Delta Kappa Rho, or the
Decker House. The Decker was located on the hill just beyond the school next to the picturesque river
valley where the town of Devonshire was located. The House itself blended elegance and comfort, and
boasted natural lighting and a bright atmosphere. Access to the patio and the garden area adds to the appeal
of this one of a kind room.
In the basement of the Decker House, was the Bumper Room. The Bumper room is where the
Decks held their parties. The Bumper Room could accommodate about 150 people comfortably; the Decks
parties would often swell to twice that amount and spill out onto the back porch off the basement
overlooking the cliff behind the house. The Decks parties were by invitation only and almost always
exclusively upper-classman, unless personally invited one of the Deck brothers themselves.
Joey was.
Joey Cusamano was invited to the party by one of the Deck brothers, Brad Lee, Joey’s closest
friend from before she could remember. The Lee family lived across from Joey’s family in Summit for
Joey’s whole life and summered at the shore in Margate together. Everyone expected Joey and Brad to end
up together, but after a short fling at the beginning of Joey’s sophomore year, they decided that destiny was
not to be, and thus decided to maintain their friendship. Joey was now a freshman in college and attending
her first Deck Party. One of many, she thought. Joey was plucked out of obscurity of being freshman year
to be one of the few freshman girls to be invited to the first Deck Party of the year.
The basement was packed and smelled of sweat and cheap beer. A mist of cigarette smoke hung
above the crowd and loud idle chatter could be heard throughout the basement. Joey walked down the steps
of the Deck House into the Bumper Room and scanned the crowd. No familiar faces.
She spotted an empty space at the bar of the Bumper Room, and began to push her way through
the crowd toward the spot, wishing that no one else had spotted the gap. As she pushed her way through
the crowd she tried to keep her hands in the pocket of her new Pea coat, she bought at The Banana
Republic. She whisked back her hair, which was starting to become matted with sweat from the heat
generated by the people in the room.
“CHUG…CHUG”
Joey was disgusted by the decadence. She had been reading Marx, and found the indulgence in
the poison of the bourgeoisie was tantamount to treachery of the proletariat. She despised the students at
New Hampshire College, believing that of the bourgeoisie, those who "own the means of production," sent
their children here to learn to be special and consider themselves as such and disengage from the realities
troubling the proletariat, thus learning to exploit them. She was conflicted with her new found political
17
views and human need for acceptance in a strange environment that she would be calling home for the next
four years.
“Uh…one beer please.” Joey said to the bartender who was dumping Ice into a garbage can.
He couldn’t hear her.
“One Beer,” She repeated
He couldn’t hear her, and continued his duties of dumping a box of beer cans into the garbage, and
shoving the beer into the Ice.
“YO! BEER”
The bartender looked up from the garbage can. His red hair, mopped with sweat and water from
the garbage fell over his right. He wiped the hair from out of his face to reveal piercing green eyes and
sharp handsome features.
“Yo…Joey! It’s about time you got here” Brad said as he reached into the garbage can and
grabbed a cold beer from the bottom of the can. He poured the beer into a red cup and handed it to Joey.
“Yeah, it took me a while to get ready.” Joey said as she grabbed the beer, and took a sip. The
beer tasted like cold defeat, with the first gulp she was one of them. The poison nectar of the elite class
flowed past her auburn lips, and she felt sullied and unusual.
“Took time outta your books to join us Deck Hands huh?” Brad said as he leaned over the bar to
talk to Joey. Joey nodded and sipped her beer again, to avoid the awkward silence of not knowing what to
say.
“How’s your dad… He still got the bar? I’m gonna ask your dad if I can bartend there this
summer.”
“Yea, but he’s thinking of selling it.”
“Sell…O’Leary’s…no way. Your pops can’t sell O’Leary’s.”
“Yeah well, not anytime soon I don’t think.”
“Good, well look I have to get back to work, but its good seeing ya. When I get from behind here
I’ll come and find ya…Kay?”
Joey nodded, took another sip of the beer, and turned toward the crowd. The crowd seemed
faceless. Just a see of smiling faces, unaware of the world outside of this basement, intent on altering their
reality so that they can make bad decisions and blame it on the fact they were intoxicated. As Joey sipped
her beer, she felt sorry for these people with a sense of moral superiority she walked away from the bar into
the faceless crowd to find another gap to settle in.
She gravitated toward a spot near the patio door, and a tall young man with blond shaggy hair
falling from underneath a baseball cap looking out over the empty patio.
* * * * * *
Stan Thompson of the Northern Hills Thompsons was a senior at New Hampshire College and one
of the most popular brothers in the Deck House. This was his third school in as many years, but he was still
on track to graduate. This was a fact that he was extremely proud of. Stan’s father had in with the right
people, and some influential friends owed him a few favors. So Stan finds himself rounding out his college
18
career at one of the most prestigious colleges in the nation, after posting a lifetime 2.10 GPA. After a
getting into a small spot of trouble at his last school, which involved a Toyota Pick-up Truck, an intoxicated
excursion to the liquor store and a dead hitchhiker. Stan decided to change time zones, but not after Daddy
pulled a few strings and greased a few palms to keep the incident from coming to light. The official report
was the hitchhiker committed suicide by throwing himself into the road.
Stan was tired of college, though except for the extracurricular activities it provided. He had done
just about all that there was to do, outside the world of academia, but within the halls of knowledge.
Cheerleaders…no problem…Daddy’s little Girls were his favorite…
He was a predator.
He sipped his beer as if it were hot, and stared at the falling snow. “It’s always snowing in this
place.” He thought as he brought the cup to his lips again. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a young
girl sidling up to him. Or at least that’s how he saw it in his mind’s eye. Reality was, he thought, this was
probably where she ended up after trying to find an open space.
Like a lonely Zebra separated from the herd.
“Lame…Huh?” Stan says to no one in particular, still looking out the window into the cold gray
wilderness.
“Excuse Me?” The girl replied hoping feverishly that he was talking to her. Finally, someone
with half a brain in this place, she thought.
* * * * * *
“I said…this is pretty lame isn’t it.”
“Not if this is your thing.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I don’t even know you… for all you know I could be a teacher
here.”
“I don’t think you’d be here if you were a teacher.” Joey replied. She was being condescended to,
and she didn’t like it. “You don’t know me either,”she thought,”How do you know I’m not a Mensa
candidate or something.”
Joey sipped at her beer, looking in the opposite direction, when the boy interrupted her obvious
annoyance.
“I’m Stan.”
“I’m not impressed”
“What?” Stan said with a chuckle.
“You play this coy, aloof, charming stranger bit on all the girls or just the one’s you think you
have something on the ball over.”
“What are you talking about?” Stan answered back, obviously amused, and mildly impressed at
the gumption this girl had.
“If I didn’t like it here what makes you think I wouldn’t have told you so? Do you think I’m
scared of you or something?” Joey answered back.
19
“Slow down I was merely stating…”
“Well Listen…I don’t need this bourgeoisie grope fest and decadent expositions”
Stan chuckled. “And what exactly does that mean?” He turned to Joey, and gave her his full and
undivided attention now.
“Well, Marxist theory teaches us that there is a relation between the material conditions of
people's lives and social relations among people and that the that people's consciousness of those conditions
of their lives reflects these material conditions and relations.”
“Oh really… is that right.” Stan said as he repositioned herself on glass door facing the wilderness.
He could feel the blood rising in neck, and enjoyed the hunt. Stan could taste the blood of past kills on the
back of his teeth.
Joey continued, “We need to understand the theory of class in terms of differing relations of
production and as a particular position within such relations and that material conditions and social
relations as historically malleable.”
“Malleable…huh?” Stan said with a raised eyebrow. He could see the injured zebra in front of
him, trying to escape him. He figured he’d let her go on for a little while longer to give her the illusion of
free will, but he’d been here before and knew exactly how to reel her in.
“The conflict between classes with opposing interest has structured each historical period and
drives historical change. Take for instance this party filled with the bourgeoisie and the petty bourgeoisie
learning better techniques to exploit the working class and stealing resources from the worker to support
their decadent lifestyles…it sickens me when I think of it.”
Stan believed he’d let her go on long enough. This was going to be too easy. This was a girl who,
Stan believed only a few weeks ago was going to bonfires and telling friends from the fifth grade that never
stop being friends over Hennessy Lites and homegrown joints they scored from their older brother’s foot
locker. Her knowledge was sophomoric and surface deep at best. He pulled his cap down over his blond
lochs even more to conceal his eyes smiling.
The party melted away in the background, as Joey took another sip of her beer having felt satisfied
that she had just put a future Michael Douglas-in-Wall Street wanna-be in his place. Her moral superiority
shone through on her face as she finished her beer, and placed it in Stan’s outstretched hand.
“You’re taking Professor Sorenson? Intro to Philosophy…No?” Stan said as he placed her empty
beer cup in his.
She stared blankly at him. What an obnoxious prick, she thought. I can’t have any thoughts of my
own. Why do I have to be spoon-fed ideals by old impotent has-been professors?
“Yes…” she answered.
“Me to…”
Joey shrugged.
“You don’t seem to take into account Hagel’s take on Marxism that the essence of humanity is
freedom, and the end or final result of that essence is the actualization of that freedom. These same people
who you look down your nose at as petty bourgeoisie are illustrating the very essence of humanity you’re
not by regurgitating some garbage that you heard an old senile man say in some college class,” Stan takes
one step past Joey, and turns around, “You don’t take into account Aristotle and how he believes that the
essence of a thing is revealed in its entirety, and that the typical process of development of that thing.
20
Instead of believing that class conflict is what pushes history, why not take into account that human history,
and society itself, has a natural line of development just like any other living thing, and these people,” Stan
gestured out toward the crowd,” are simply in a stage of that development and each stage has its own
principle, which it develops in accordance with freedom. I guess you’ll learn that next semester in
Philosophy 102. Now do you want a lite beer or some of the good stuff?” Stan finished as he extended his
free hand back towards Joey. He had her. He tried to hide his smile as he tasted the blood on the back of
his teeth.
Joey could feel underwear getting moist, and with little apprehension took Stan’s hand.
* * * * * *
Stan and Joey adjourned to his room up stairs from the party. You couldn’t even hear the party
downstairs until after the party ended a few hours later. You could hear the random drunken revelry in the
hallway outside of Stan’s room and then going quiet as the various doors closed.
Stan and Joey were locked in heavy embrace, tasting each other and feeling every inch of each.
Exploring each other’s body with fingers and tongues, in various states of undress. When Joey a buzz from
underneath her. Stan quickly fidgeted with something that looked like a small black square to her and
tossed it to the other bed, but she couldn’t tell anymore. Joey found herself in a series of states of semi-
consciousness, and this tryst was starting to lose its appeal.
Stan starts to take off her clothes more vigorously. This was no longer fun for Joey. She goes to
push Stan off her, but she can’t use her arms. What hell is this, she thought. She went to scream, but
couldn’t and the noise was the resonating echoes in her head of what she thought was coming out of her
mouth. It seemed as if someone turned the volume down on life, as Stan slides her pants off and tears her
panties from her.
She laid naked motionless, eyes wide, being able to witness everything in pure horror but unable to
do anything about it.
“Tired,” Stan said as he hovered over Joey’s limp, lifeless, body.
It had taken a moment, but Joey put it all together. She had been drugged.
Her eyes widened even further at that realization. She was paralyzed from head to toe, fading in
and out of consciousness, but could feel…she could still feel. A tear slid down the left cheek of her face
and onto the sheets beneath her.
“Shh…,” Stan said as his blond mane fell over his face, and caressed Joey gently, “It’ll be over
soon.” He said as he smiled widely and flashed his pearly white fangs to her as he entered her slowly.
“Ahh…see there… wasn’t too bad”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see a flash of light and several shadows. Were there more,”
she thought, “Oh my God!” She screamed, but again all she could hear was the reverberation of her
thoughts in her head.
Stan dismounted and leaned over her and licked her ear, laughed and pulled his pants up. Just as
Stan’s face left Joey’s vision, she could see a different shadowy figure loom above her and enter her. Tears
were coming out of both of eyes her eyes. Until she blacked out again….
……….
She opened her eyes and felt one of the boys in the room leave her, and saw another shadowy
figure come from the back of the room to loom over. Out of the shadow she started to make out stringy
21
damp red hair, mopped with sweat and she could feel his cold hands grip her. As he thrusted into her she
could make out the hair from out the piercing green eyes and sharp handsome features.
The scream reverberated again in her head.
………..
Ten Years Later
Stan Thompson is the newly elected congressman of Connecticut’s third Congressional District.
After a short scandal filled tenure in the congress, Rep. Thompson-R ran for the Senate, and is now a first
term junior senator on the veteran’s affairs committee.
Joey found out before the next semester of school that she was pregnant. She went and had an
abortion, but the mental damage had been done. The next ten years Joey tried to piece her life together, but
could not seem to get things together. After a series of strings in and out of rehab, Joey bought a hot shot1,
she was 28 years old.
Brad Lee, his wife, and their two children attended Joey’s funeral and as he Brad stood over her
closed casket, as it was being lowered into the ground threw dirt on it, as she was laid to rest.
Cheers
“It is most absurdly said, in popular language, of any man, that he is disguised in liquor;
for, on the contrary, most men are disguised by sobriety.” – Thomas de Quincey
Under the Blue Moon

“I think we can be reasonably confident that if the American population had the slightest
idea of what is being done in their name, they would be utterly appalled.” – Noam
Chomsky
1
a hot shot is either really pure heroin that addicts are not use to getting and it kills them or stuff that was
cut with poison to make them sick or die, Urban Dictionary.com
22
One More Night

"I keep telling myself I'm not the desperate type” – Fall Out Boy
The door locked
“Now you can’t leave.” Stevie said.
“What are you doing? Get away from the door.” Shayla retorted, as she fumbled through her purse,
removed and stopped her vibrating phone.
“You’re going to listen to me Shayla.”
Shayla returned the phone to her purse and looked up into Stevie’s face which was contorted from his
boyishly handsome features into something much more sinister.
“What’s that look for? You need to get out of my way, so I can go home Stevie.”
Stevie inched closer to Shayla. Shayla became extremely aware of Stevie’s size, as his muscles flexed and
contracted testing the tensile pressure of his undersized LeTigre polo shit. A pulsating vein began to
emerge on his forehead and Shayla could see beads of sweat forming on his face. She smelled his breath
now, and the mixture of onions and beer from the meal they had eaten just a few hours before at O’Leary’s.
He was way too close for Shayla.
“Back Up!” Shayla exclaimed as she pushed Stevie in the chest, and tried to run past him to the door.
Stevie grabbed Shayla’s arms, and squeezed. She could feel herself bruising underneath his grip, but he
was so big and strong she couldn’t do much but to maneuver her body so that it wasn’t in an awkward
position, and his grip didn’t hurt as much. Shayla looked into Stevie’s eyes, which were turning red now.
She could see another vein emerging from underneath the skin on his neck, as he grinded his teeth and
squeezed her harder.
“Stop…you’re hurting me. Stop it...Stevie… I mean it… that hurts.”
“You don’t know what pain is.”
“Let go... please.” Shayla pleaded.
Stevie threw her to the ground, and Shayla hit the back of her head on the coffee table in the middle of
room.
The lights were dim in this room, and Shayla was wondering if anyone had seen them come up here. She
was positive she had told Paula she’d be right back.
“It was only a matter of time before she came upstairs looking for me.” Shayla thought, but she quickly
remembered that this was a normal occurrence for Stevie and Shayla at these types of parties, to disappear
and return disheveled and satisfied.
23
“Well at least he was.” Shayla thought, as a smirk started to spread across her face. She was quickly
brought back to the present, when Stevie drew back his fist and struck her across the right side of her face.
He struck he so hard, she felt lip split as she hit the ground with crushing force.
“What the fuck, Stevie!” Shayla screamed through tears welling up in her voice.
“You don’t get to cry.”
Shayla crawled to the corner opposite the window and glanced toward the door, thinking about dashing
when she remembered it was locked.
“But if I shake it, some one will hear me trying to get out; maybe I could unlock it fast enough.
She spat the foul tasting blood out of her mouth, onto the white carpet. The thick blood slowly seeped into
the carpet and drew Shayla attention away from her escape plan momentarily. The scarlet contrast against
the bright white carpet was surreal. Shayla saw the red colored blood spreading and seeping into the
crevices of the carpet out of the side of her mouth. She could taste the carpet, but more and more the taste
of the carpet was becoming indistinguishable from the blood.
She began to crawl now, on all fours to the door, to attempt her brilliant escape plan, when Stevie kicked
her in the side with the instep of his foot.
Shayla could feel one of her ribs crack.
Shayla held her side, curled in a fetal position, next to the coffee table in the middle of the room, and tried
to think of anything else, but her mind kept bringing her back to the dimly lit room above a noisy raucous
party.
No one was coming for her.
Stevie grabbed Shayla by the shirt and lifted her off the ground as her feet were dangling in mid air, Shayla
could smell it again, the putrid smell of onions and beer. The heavier Stevie breathed the more he misted
her face with saliva and sweat.
Shayla had no energy to resist him, and even if she had the energy she wouldn’t have been able to resist
him, because he was almost 3 times her size.
“What do you want Stevie?” Shayla said, as blood poured from her lip onto the carpet below.
With that statement, Stevie began to well up and cry. Shayla was confused, but she was still dangling in the
air and too exhausted to show it.
“I’m supposed to love you.” Stevie said as
Shayla replied with a scream. Suspended in the air in front of Stevie, she wondered if anyone could hear her
scream over the loud music coming from the party downstairs. Stevie dropped her and covered his tears
from Shayla, as she crawled to the window trying to get as far away from his as possible.
Shayla tried again to get to the door, but it was more of a longing lunge to the door, because she couldn’t
move anymore. She coughed up a mouth full of blood, and looked up at Stevie.
“I’m sorry.”
Stevie moved Shayla onto her back with his foot, and straddled her waist and sat down. Shayla felt the
pressure of his weight on her pelvis and his weight was made it hard to breathe.
24
Stevie looked down into Shayla’s eyes. His eyes were completely dilated as the dim light in the corner
flickered in his cornea, and the bloodshot redness made his eyes look like two torches. He leaned in slowly,
and Shayla’s short breathes quickened. Stevie slid his hands up Shayla’s stomach, to her breasts, and
settled on them her shoulders.
Stevie’s expression changed from relaxed to a tense clinching, as if he was fighting something, struggling
against some force inside of him. He slowly slid his hands up to Shayla’s throat, and her eyes widened.
“Stevie…” She eked out.
“You were supposed to love me.” Stevie said as his grip tightened around Shayla’s throat.
Shayla coughed and grabbed Stevie’s forearm, in an attempt to make him stop. “Please someone…” Shayla
thought.
“Me… You were supposed to love me.” Stevie said as he tightened his grip on Shayla’s throat.
Shayla struggled underneath Stevie’s weight, and squirmed to get away, but was unable to move.
“I’m supposed to love you….You were supposed to love me.”
Shayla felt Stevie put all his weight into his grip. Breathing was impossible.
Shayla prayed…
“Our father who art in heaven,”
The edges around Shayla’s vision started to get darker.
“Hallowed be thy name,” Shayla could smell the onions and beer and cigarettes from the night, the
cigarettes. The smell told a story. The hamburger that Stevie ate that disgusted her, the onion rings she
told him not eat, but he had to have, smothered in gravy. The bad joke…the very bad joke.
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” She remembered her step-mother. She
was always so kind to her. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve what her father did to her.
“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against
us.”
I’m sorry
“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Amen
* * * * * *
“So what exactly is this going to do to him?” Shayla asked
“Just give him the cigarette.” Adam stated, dipping another cigarette into a clear substance in a small vile.
“He doesn’t do drugs, this could kill him?”
“No, at least I don’t think so. He’ll wig out but that’s about it… I’m pretty sure,” He said as he handed
Shayla the pack of cigarettes, “Just remember, the cigarette turned up is the one. Wait for it to dry
completely before you give it to him. I might have dipped it too much, but once it dries it should be alright.
This is gonna be funny as hell.”
25
“He’s such a tool.” Shayla said as she put the pack into her purse.
“What’s you’re phone number, I wanna call you to find out what happened?”
“908-789-5678…you sure he’ll be aright. I don’t want to go to jail if his heart stops or something.”
“He’ll be fine, just get him away from the party if he starts to wig. Not everybody will think him spazzing
is funny.”
“And it’s the cigarette that’s turned up.”
“Call you later.”
With that Adam walked out of the bathroom, and back into the party, taking care that no one noticed him
leave the bathroom.
Shayla looked into the mirror after Adam left the bathroom, and washed her mouth out with what was left
of her mouthwash, and tossed the empty container into the trash. She fixed her lipstick and straightened
her clothes. She hated Stevie now. He was perfect. Shayla hated perfection.
Football star, Deans list, area all around Johnny Do-Good, and here she was reformed slut from the
suburbs. She hated what she had become, and didn’t want to see anyone do well. She fixed her hair in the
mirror, wiped her nose, and smirked.
As she left the bathroom, she looked around slightly. She didn’t want to make it obvious. She walked
toward Stevie and asked him if they could talk, because she needed to tell him something. Stevie, tall,
handsome, and charismatic had an audience of people enthralled in latest exploits on the football field,
agreed and left his adoring crowd of fans.
They made their way to the kitchen in the back of the house where there were a few party stragglers, but it
was much easier to talk.
* * * * *
“What do you mean it’s over?”
“Look I just want to see other people. It’s not working between you and me.”
“Well what did I do wrong?"
“Look…its not you it’s….”
“Don’t give me that bullshit line. I deserve better than that.”
“Ok… I just want to see other people …that’s it.”
“Well that’s it…who?”
“You don’t know em’.”
“So tell me… are you fucking someone else?”
“No…it’s not that.”
26
She was lying. After seven months, I know that she slept with at least three of my friends, but I was in love
with her. I was able to tell her things I was never able to tell to anyone. She knew me from the inside out. I
always suspected she didn’t respect me. I did everything I could for this girl but she never respected me.
Maybe that was the attraction. We always yearn after the unattainable, right? Any girl on campus would
love to sleep with me, tonight. I just can’t understand.
I sat down at the kitchen table, and put my head in my hands.
“Look, you’re gonna be fine…”
I waved her away; I just wanted to be alone.
“Here have a cigarette…it’ll calm you down.”
That’s cool of her I guess... I only smoke when I drink, though. I’m no chain smoker or anything. So I
took the cigarette and lit it on the stove that was next to the table I was sitting at. It tasted funny, almost
stale. I didn’t think anything of it, as I continued to puff on the cigarette, and think what I had done to upset
her.
She had broken up with me before though, but it was after a fight, nothing right out of the blue like this. I
finished the stale cigarette, and dropped the remains in an empty beer can next to. I just didn’t want to be
near her right now, so I tried to stand, but couldn’t feel knees, and fell into the floor. I tried to stand again,
but it was like walking on potato salad. I couldn’t keep my balance.
Shayla came and tried to help me up, but I missed when I tried to put my arms around her and fell into the
kitchen table, sending dishes everywhere.
“What the fuck Shayla?!?!?! What is this shit?” I heard from some figure in the small doorway to my right.
I couldn’t make out a face and the voice sounded screechy and distorted, like someone was playing a record
backwards to hear a hidden message.
Shayla grabbed me by the hand and led me out of the kitchen up stairs, into a dimly lit bedroom.
I’m just not feeling right. I can’t believe this. We were supposed to be together forever. Why can’t she
love me?
As we entered the room, I felt this intense rage. Just an intense maddening that I had never felt before. I
clinched my fists so tight that I started to break the skin. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, but I
knew I didn’t want Shayla to see me weak like this, right after she broke up with me. I felt nauseous.
Shayla shut the door behind us, and got from underneath my arm. I was beginning to regain my footing.
“Look Shayla, I think you should leave.”
“Why? Are you gonna cry?” Shayla said.
“No, I just think it would be best if you go.”
“No”
“Please Shayla.”
“You look like shit there QB 1.”
“Shayla…” I said doubled over. My head was pounding. I was so confused.
27
“What are you gonna do? You can’t even stand up… wick prick lame fuck… The steroids finally got to
you huh? ”
At that comment, I straightened up and walked to the door and locked it.
28
He that diggeth a pit, shall fall into it.

“Blessed is the lion which becomes man when consumed by man; and cursed is the man
whom the lion consumes, and the lion becomes man” The Gospel of Thomas, Gnostic
Gospel
29

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Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Cause It’s Bobby

By 3am Bobby Derringer will be dead.

The story began about two years ago…

“No... I just don’t understand, let’s go back. Anavrin is an anti-depressant, right?”

“Made by Alsimodore Corp. Right?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“See that’s where I’m getting confused. Who is Alsimodore?”

“Negligence is implied. This is first year torts, come on.”

“I know, I know …but at NYU...”

“At NYU what? It’s the same thing at NYU as it is at Turro.”

“Oh…no. it’s a good school to.”

I rubbed between my eyes, and took a deep breathe.

“Sure, sure… write something up and I’ll take a look at it.”

“You can write can’t you?”

“You’ve gotta be outta your fuckin’ mind.”

“What did you say to me?”

Let me see, no….no…no…ah… Ani DiFranco… nice!

9:30 am February 2nd, 2006, Offices of Murphy, Durshowitz, & Keller

“This won’t take a second, O’Shea.”

What is Bobby doing here?

“First off, I want to let you know I’m not mad.”

What the hell is he talking about?

“Ok…, but I don’t think I’m following you.”

I turned sharply to look at Bobby, then back to the partner.

“No. That’s not what happened. I…”

I turned to look at Bobby again, this time through squinted eyes.

He looked like new money, and I couldn’t stand it.

I turned, closed the door, packed up my things.

12:30pm, May 27th, 2006, Backyard of Mr. Murphy’s Shore Home

I wasn’t coming, but she made me.

I was there with Leticia.

I just started seeing her.

Oh she’s no preppie… she’s from Irvington.

“See… that’s a good lad.”

“Yes…” she said in that deep Eastern European voice.

“Were leaving… and you gotta drive.”

She went got dressed and brought the car around.

We didn’t talk all the way home.

3:30 PM, O’Leary’s Bar and Grill, October 6th 2006

“Another round for Bobby!”

I sipped on my Guinness and tried to be a good sport.

What did I get… squat…

Almost a year later.

“Don’t worry about it Bobby… that’s my job.”

“You city types are alright with me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Bobby said as he turned back to his drink at the bar.

Bobby looked like he wanted to say something

And we sat there… in silence, staring.

“Hi…” I said, timidly to break the eerie silence between us.

“Ah….nah, you’re good.”

“Look I apologize… let me buy you a drink.”

“No need… I just wanna drink my beer and head home.”

“No, I insist. I am at your table, it’s the least I can do.”

I thought, alright pal it’s your dime.

“Thanks.” I said. Danlami raised his glass to me and drank.

“People call me Danny”

“Nice to meet cha’ Danny.”

“No man, you don’t have to.”

The phone sprung to life again.

“Well yeah, but he’s married and so am I. That can’t be right.”

“Really… I went to Millburn High.”

“No bullshit. What year’d you graduate?”