Metra CITY: Destiny'S Kiss
by
Jaree Francis
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Jaree Francis on Smashwords
Metra City: Destiny's Kiss
Copyright © 201 0 b y Jaree Francis
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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METRA CITY: DESTiny'S Kiss
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I
The raging rain had no discipline whatsoever. It was only listening to gravity. Beneath the downpour, an uncrowned prince found shelter inside of a Benz coupe. The vehicle’s allure mimicked the driver’s handsomeness. His name was Reznor; skin the shade of a perfect midnight, but the gentleman’s eyes were an unruly red. About as red as the traffic light before him. Impatiently he waited, staring blankly. You could easily assume that he was beside himself, but you’d be wrong. To the right of him sat a young woman admired far and wide for her outer beauty. Her name, Ms. Shay Spears. Regrettably lonely even with him beside her. She could honestly say that not since a fetus had she been so ignored. Ironically, she felt that she was where she needed to be. By his side.
Fury was running through his face as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. The red light taunted him unmercifully. The pounding rain had washed away his high and Shay's babbling didn’t make it any better. Guess she couldn’t help it. A bubbling sensation had erupted within her. Maybe it was Reznor's song blasting on the radio less than five minutes ago that had Shay all shook up, jittery. A sold out crowd was awaiting his grace at the Nephthys, but she had him where she wanted him. The thrill had her stripping down to her brassiere and panties, fighting valiantly against the safebelt. Burning desire melted away her good girl ways or was it the contact? Whatever the case, she felt like clothes had no place on her body. It was supremely golden. Like King Midas had given her a full body massage. Every part of her body was desirable enough to kiss...Or lick. Indeed, she was the model who had more offers than she had time to cover, literally. It seemed as though every clothing designer wanted her to don their clothing for print ads coast to coast. That was her career, but at the moment she found clothes were worthless. Not only was he in the car, he was also on the cover of three magazines. One of the headlines read, "Most Anticipated or Most Exaggerated?" It was a tough question, but he was surely inspiring the masses. What woman wouldn’t want to be by his side was an even tougher question.
As he sped past the red light, Shay whispered a sweet nothing in his ear that she hoped would become something…….Not even a one word reply escaped his lips.
"Reznor, what gives? Am I not enough woman for you?" Shay asked with despair. She poked out her glossy lips as her curly, black hair brushed against them. He knew he could get lost in the ocean that she was and drown a million times over.
Reznor carefully looked out the side of his eyes and flashed his charming smile. His pearly whites contrasted to his dark complexion like the moon against nightfall. "Your body is mercury-- like you don’t know," he said reverting his vision back to the lonely road.
“And you are cold…Like Pluto.” Her face was barely an inch away from Reznor's while her ample chest graced his slim, toned arm. Her nipples were primed to dash through her bra.
"Don’t think I’m not into you. I'm just focused-- focused on the road. You know what happened to my friends?" he asked rhetorically.
"Of course I do. Moving on. Do you know what I’m wearing, Reznor?" she asked. Her honey brown eyes were digging craters into him. A sex-kitten slapping her tail all across his face.
"No."
"This was originally the property of Jacqueline Onassis. Has never been worn...By me, that is. But I knew you and I were going out tonite," she said batting her lavish lashes.
"Yeah, and I'm wearing JFK's boxers, ma," Reznor spat with a chuckle.
"Reznor, I swear on-- I swear on my face that this is Jackie O's bra and panties. I'm much too good to lie..."
"No, I believe you. Probably some auction or whatever, right?" Shay nodded her head as her curls bounced off of her forehead a bit. "I still don't believe you, but I'm glad you think I'm worth lying to," Reznor said taking his eyes off the road.
"Yes, I did! I know my hips are wider, nevertheless I thought it would be fairly sexy. I always wanted to be like her in a sense." Her tongue began to freeze up. Before her was a slice of heaven and her appetite had just reached capacity. If he only knew how many images she had of him, his ego would be fulfilled. So many moons had passed with her touching herself fixed on his posters-- only to be left with moist fingers. Who knew she'd get her chance with him? Well, she did. The rain continued to splash against the coupe and she was getting wetter than Noah's Ark. Shay ran her hands delicately up Reznor's shirt and played piano on his six-pack.
"You’re trying to get me in a wreck, aren’t you?" Reznor asked as he turned to her.
“If you wreck this car it’s all your fault. There is nobody else on the road. Just as it should be." She had a point; the road was deserted. Shay continued to play with Reznor's body and before he knew it her head was under his shirt. She propped her tongue upon his toned stomach. It blew her mind to know that he was preoccupied driving and she could exercise a few of her desires freely. Her tongue traced around the outlines of his muscular structure to a sweet satisfaction. "I need you." The tone that came with this statement was demanding as well as uncompromising. He wanted to say those three words to her long ago.
"It’s a must that I pull over," Reznor said in a proper fashion. The coupe, dark grey as the clouds above him, exited off the road and dusted away to the side of a Cape Cod cottage. It took forever to get to him yet, now he was before her. Reznor, Reznor. Still, there was something she needed from him first. Butterscotch flavored eyes unblinking, she said, "let me hear your lyrical gift." Shocked for a second, he gained composure and ripped into it.
"If life is a song, I’m in heavy rotation/Bars or bat mitzvahs, in every location/Not the one to skip past, a hidden track/Unlocked all for you, just spitting the facts/So this isn’t a skit, I don't chase modeling chicks/ But your persona got me disregarding this modeling quick/ So let's fast forward and skip beyond that/ And lemme give you something that you gonna wanna rewind back/We can make a hit too good to remix/And I promise to you that you’ll come first like a prefix…You ready for this?" he asked. The rhyme had her so far gone. He stared at her with his bloodshot eyes and reclined the seat back a few notches. Every level of the car reeked of absolute marijuana, as a tight lipped smile peeled from her. The aroma spiraled throughout the interior as his and her heart beat in anticipation.
Just as fast as he questioned her, if not faster, she was out of the under attire which she swore once belonged to Jacqueline Onassis. Her privates were covered with a lightly shaved heart, symmetrically perfect at the middle of her slit. Reznor disposed of his shirt and jeans, and was liberated of articles aside from boxers and platinum chain. A sweet chocolate child he was. Shay darted her head into his platinum chain as they shared the jewelry. The cold, precious metal laid perpendicular to her spine. With youthful passion, they soul-kissed. Her tongue danced with his as she ripped his boxers off. His meat tumbled out as the head bumped into her right leg gracefully. She was impressed with the length and also the girth. It wasn’t too big and definitely not too small. The overhead light finally faded out as she straddled him in the seat.
"Drop the roof, Reznor. I want to feel nature upon me," Shay moaned as Reznor rose with her body to appreciate the first stroke. Inside of her moist body, he felt like when he came out of her he would be born again somehow. She was all that he wanted at that point.
"You want to feel the rain?" Reznor asked. His hands puffed up her ample breasts as he sucked each bosom back to back. He knew the rain had become a peaceful drizzle.
"Mmm hmmm, do it," she said in a trance, still riding him leisurely. Reznor rose up and tapped the panoramic button as the rain drizzled in.
"Shay, you’re gonna have this interior trashed…"
"I'll buy you another interior, if need be..I'll buy you another car if I have to..."
Shay proved that Mercedes didn't have anything on the way she rode. She had to give him something to remember because there were boatloads of women that wanted him. So in order for Reznor to keep the contact up, he would have to want her as much as she needed to feel his body. The knight in shining armor thrust his sword into her dash with the might of thunder crushing the earth's very surface. Young Rez never would have guessed Shay's womanhood was so sincerely tight. Maybe it was vinegar. His hands dug into her arms like a wolverine as he heaved her up and down upon his fired up body. The smell of weed was explicitly replaced with sex as they continued on without a drop of innocence. Her curly hair was now dripping on him even after the rain had ceased. Reznor's taste was simply divine as she pounced bite-marks upon his chest and shoulders relentlessly. His hands found sacredness along her plumpness as his lips sparked straight fire upon hers. Reznor and Shay both shared lines of admirers, but it was now themselves face to face with the one whom they admired.
"Thank Jehova..." Shay said with her head laying against Reznor's bare chest. She licked across the bite mark before her. Reznor, with hands clutching her hips, forced her up and down once again. "I just wish you could love me like this forever."
"I do too," Reznor said mid-stroke. She slid off of his manhood and eased into her seat. Her cum laid on his pubic hair like mini snowflakes.
"Well, you can’t keep the world waiting. On with it, my prince,” she said as the moonroof came back over them.
Sex wasn’t designed to be so brief. In any event, on with it she said and on with it he did. The clouds were disgruntled yet again, clearly menstrual cycling as the Benz entered the city. Thunder struck, but no bolt dared to stop his passage. Reznor’s name was chanted by the thousands in attendance. The rowdy crowd had closed the curtain on the opening acts by blatant threats and bottle throwing. Additional guards had been shuttled to the Nephthys to save the building from potential dangers. They had waited over two hours and they didn’t want their money back. What they wanted was for Reznor to step on stage. That’s all they wanted. As did his manager whose calls were automatically forwarded to Reznor’s voicemail. If he didn’t show it would be wise to alert the National Guard.
Just when it seemed violence would ensue, Reznor hit the circular blue stage whippin’ its edges in an electric purple Lotus Evora sports car. He almost gave the front rowers a heart attack as an inch of the passenger’s side wheels were off the stage. He hopped out in a black Yves Saint-Laurent suit, casually cueing his music.
“Hello, Metra City,” Reznor said as he bowed before the crowd. “Thank you for waiting for me.” He gazed at the many, many faces in attendance. They had been searching and now the search was over. He was there finally.
He visited his hits from ‘Tomorrow Comes’ to ‘You Know Me.’ Some recited along with him, others just nodded intently to his one of a kind flow. When he performed ‘Ebony,’ he asked a Nubian queen to accompany him onstage. He danced with her a bit, all the while pushing his masculine melody into the microphone. Her eyes were starry as she looked on at him, hands on her waist at times. She giggled to herself as she recalled an interviewer refer to him as sexual chocolate in Eddie Murphy’s comical voice. How did such greatness arrive from Metra City? She spent most of the time wondering that and then the dance was over. Security had to pull her away as the beat came in for his monster hit ‘Don’t Doubt Me.’ The song wasn’t just another hit for him, it was thee hit.
He rapped with authority, “Other than me, what can stop me? It’s clear I’m the worst fear of a Nazi, I can’t be carbon copied, I make the impossible possible possibly. You’re not me, so take a shot at me, realize it’s too much God in me, for you to stop the prophesy…” he concluded as the lights mysteriously went out in the building. Complete darkness. The crowd went frantic as a bright flashlight beamed across the stage only to be succeeded by dozens more. They scanned the stage searching diligently…
“Don’t be alarmed folks. Be calm and remain in your seats. We’re only looking for Reznor Scott!!” the police chief yelled. His voice was loud enough to go without a mic and you could tell he wasn’t leaving until he found the target. His men had the crowd shook as their footsteps were heard scattering the stage in pursuit. A chance beam saw Reznor inching past the grand drape. “Open fire!!” The officers, taking heed from their chief, immediately banged out on Reznor, illuminating the darkness with gunfire. The crowd yelled in agony and screams, throwing bottles at the stage and anything else at their disposal. The lights scurried away like fireflies getting lost in the night. Shock had the attendees plastered to their seats. As the lights came back on, Reznor was stretched out on the center of the stage, his elegant suit drenched in blood. His arms were spread like an eagle’s wings and his eyes were closed to the world. Legions rushed the stage, much too many for security to detain. They crowded his space as the blood seeped towards them on the floor. A large majority of attendees stood with their mouths open, some crying freely. Minutes passed and then the tears stopped and their mouths closed as an eerie melody crept into their ears. The track was enchanting as well as familiar. Subdued by the hypnotic instrumental, the guards managed to gain control of the situation and sat the mourners back into their seats. At the same time, two men and a woman came onstage with white lab coats. After inspecting the fallen, the men carried Reznor to the Lotus as the lady got behind the wheel. After they got him inside the ride, she hit the gas and high tailed it as the men walked off the stage. Confusion sat in. People looked at each other, unnerved by the spectacle. Murmurs grew amidst the instrumental that continued to play.
When the lights flickered, their attention went back to the stage, still soiled with Reznor’s blood. He had returned. No suit, bare topside wise. Exhibiting his slim yet toned physique, he also exposed the splats of blood above his torso in the process. He was now equipped with grey jeans and Supra Skytops. His eyes were a glowing green and he moved robotically as he accepted the microphone handed to him by the female in the lab coat. Surprisingly, he laid down a song they only heard mention of on radio interviews. No title. Never been performed for anyone. But them. The first. And regrettably the last. He dropped to his knees, feeling like the boy who cried wolf, as he smelled the blood smeared across his fingertips. Nothing smelled like blood aside from blood. He fell on the stage unable to move a thing besides his eyes. Before him was Shay in the front row, unmoved by it all. He could not hear anything aside from death calling his name. But he could read her lips. (It’s better like this) she said.
"REZNOR!" a thin vocal chord could be heard, somehow pumped with bass.
Squinting his eyes, Reznor entered reality. His vision was blurred. The Pippi Longstocking braided shadow before him had to be his darling sister Jasmine. She stood in the hallway teary eyed and shaken a bit. The shots he heard in his dream must have been real...He did live in Mahone, borderline hell. Still dazed, Reznor gazed at Jasmine as she stood motionless. Running to her with affection, he covered her frame with his thick comforter as sternly as he could. "It’s going to be alright, Jazzy. It’s going to be okay." Her heart could be felt beating from the side like an earthquake within her. He opened his mom’s door slightly and she was fine.
The Sandman must've given her mother a soundproof world to rest in. In the hallway Jasmine laid by his side without a word spoken. She was content as long as her brother's arms were around her. Laying there until daylight came, Reznor just looked at his sister with her sepia colored skin and long-winded hair. Reznor wished his hair grew at a similar rate because he would've got his hair braided, too. Mama Scott was a master braider. Making miracles was something she enjoyed. Jazzy’s lips were poked out as she snored lowly in her own little world. He picked her up and eased her into his comfy bed.
Reznor looked at his G-Shock watch and saw that it was getting dangerously close to the work hour. "Oh boy," he said to himself. At least it was payday he thought. He got up at a turtle's pace and looked at his unkempt room. It was littered with rap magazines, instrumental discs, and ripped out sheets of paper laced with rap verses. It was Reznor's dream of all dreams to be a superstar rapper. He knew he was far from the only one with such aspirations, but working a 9-5 just wasn't cutting it.
A tear almost ran down Reznor's handsome, dark face when a belated thought came. The bullets heard before the sun surfaced could've came through the apartment and very well have hit his mother, Jasmine, or himself. If such a thing were to happen…God forbid. He would immediately hold the blame. No one could convince him otherwise because he knew that he had the power to take his family out of the dirt known as Mahone. He felt that he could be the one, yet couldn’t shake the feeling of being a zero.
He had to cleanse his mind just like his body. Reznor crept into the shower like an elder and stepped out with the youth of yesteryears. Trying to block out his peculiar dream and the gunshots he heard earlier, he rushed his work clothes on and laced up his steel-toes with focus. Before he knew it, he was looking through the cracked window. There it was. The grey Windstar pushed by his homey Lando. 'Ugh.' Reznor wanted to talk to Jasmine but he didn’t want to wake her up. Fortunately enough, Lando blew the horn.
"Rezzy," Jasmine said. Her eyes were chinked up as she resided on the bed only moving her head. "There was shooting last nite."
"I know Jazzy, but everything's going to be okay. I promise," he said putting on his coat. "Don't think about it and do good in school for me, okay?" Reznor asked with a half-hearted smile.
"I’m scared Reznor. Will we always live here?" she asked with a slender tear crawling down the left side of her face.
"No, we won’t. We’re going to move. Don't worry, you know I'm here for you," Reznor said as he wiped the tears away with his pinky finger. "Just do good in school and I'll see you after work, 'kay?"
"..." she said nothing as she approached him with a tender hug. That was excellent timing because if he stared at her a second longer he would’ve been crying with her. She relinquished her hold as the horn honked again.
"Bye,
Jazzy." Reznor eased out of the door and saw Lando laid back,
pretty boy style. He kept the low caesar and his teeth immaculate.
His eyes were a bold brown that made hearts skip a beat, not to
mention the man was toned with a mean six-pack. Lando was carefree,
drinking a coffee from 7-11. Reznor hopped in the van and asked, "You
actually like that crap?"
"It’s my second alarm clock.
What took you so long?" he asked as he put his foot on the gas.
"Man, Jazzy was scared cuz she heard gunshots early this morning. I was giving her a lil pep talk, you know, big brother stuff."
"Mahone, Mahone. It's out of control, man. Seriously though, you are truly blessed to have survived that. You need to thank God. Bullets don't discriminate."
"Yeah, I know...And I do thank God. For every second, every hour, every day. I hear the clock ticking, Lando. I have to do this rap thing.”
"Yes, you do. Everybody knows you’re hot except the people that can get you exposure. I really want you to get it."
"You and me both,” Reznor said as he shook his head. "You really think I can get into the industry?"
"No doubt. I'm not trying to make a career out of fire watching and I know you're not. Somehow, we just have to focus on doing what we need to do to get to our destiny."
"What a concept..." Reznor stopped mid-sentence and turned the radio up to hear the news report.
<<Larkson was shot twice in the back and was apprehended by Larchmont PD and has been taken to Metra Medical where he is in critical condition. Larkson escaped from prison mid-June and appears to have laid low until now. The other attempted bank robbers were killed in the shootout by Larchmont and Metra PD's combined efforts. The rather elusive Larkson managed to evade over a dozen police cars and make it to Mahone. Stay tuned as we talk with mayor Ritter for an unprecedented interview.>>
"The mayor," Reznor spat with sarcasm. "Oh, no…That’s probably the shooting I heard earlier."
“Might be, Rez.”
“I can’t keep living like this…In this city...My destiny is bigger than this. So much bigger,” Reznor said with despair.
“I know...I believe you. You’re not like most guys," Lando said. Reznor looked up at Lando blankly. "In a good way, though,” Lando said. “I’m sure your time will come. Better yet, I know it.”
II
If the sun was a towering orange then the sky was a giant blue tablecloth. A few clouds shifted around the belly of its massiveness like smears of gravy. Through it all, the September wind came and went as it pleased. Lando carefully backed his van into the parking lot and then Reznor and him made moves to clock in. Everyone was already inside. Before making it to the front of the building they bumped into their boss, Mr. Blackstone. He stood unmoved like a Scots Guard. That Mr. Blackstone…Always ready and open for a variety of debates. The dark rider. His thinning, grey hair and a ditch of lines from frustration was his inner vibe bleeding towards the outer. He was blacker than Wesley Snipes behind tinted windows and didn't like for blacks to call him ‘brother.’ Especially ones younger than him.
"Boys, so nice of you to show up," he said in his proper tone as he looked at his gold watch. "You're now five minutes late."
"Listen, there was shooting early this morning and--" Reznor tried to finish but his words met their end by Mr. Blackstone's tongue.
"Ohh? How commendable of you to come after being shot," Mr. Blackstone said with feigned surprise.
"What? No, he wasn't shot." Lando shook his head at the situation. "He's trying to tell you that--"
"Guys," he began as he looked at his watch once again, "you are not going to make me late just because you two are. Misery loves company, doesn’t it?"
Reznor and Lando looked at each other and then at Mr. Blackstone who just stood there with the stance of a gladiator.
"Well, you don't have to answer. Misery does love company so I won't just fire one of you guys, I'll fire both," he said with a devilish grin.
"What?! That's screwed up," Reznor said shaking his head. "I-- I can't believe this crap. You don't have enough people as it is, Blackstone." Reznor turned to the empty space that Lando had been occupying. Lando was already drifting to the van. "I need this job," Reznor pleaded.
Mr. Blackstone stood there with a smirk, digging his right hand into his pocket to retrieve a cigar. "Yeah, I bet you do. Maybe you should have thought about that before you kept coming in late day after day."
Reznor took a deep breath. His fingers were tingling. They wanted to be around Blackstone’s thick neck. He gazed upon the greatness of the sky and felt the world slipping away from him. How would he help his mother with rent or contain the uninvited bills that kept storming in? It was apparent that Mr. Blackstone could care less about Reznor's situation.
"I'm sorry, but...Well, I'm not sorry. It's just that you've given me a reason to replace you and it's just sooo easy to replace a fire-watcher. You get paid for watching out for possible fires and you don't even do that right. Yes, I've spotted you sleeping on your feet. You tilt your hard hat at a slant so that no one can see those eyelids draped down. Believe me when I tell you that I am the hawk and this hawk doesn't miss a thing. Now me, I like Lando. But he's too pretty. He'd probably try and sue us if he got a nick on his face. We don't need any models, sorry. Why do I keep saying that word...I’m really not sorry."
"I can't believe I worked for you," Reznor said with adrenaline mounting. "Just give me the checks. Can you do that?" Reznor asked with a hostile bark.
"You need to relax, son. Hold on." Mr. Blackstone walked into the building and came back promptly with Reznor's check.
"What's this?" Reznor asked as he held his check in the air fanning himself with the envelope.
"It's your check. What do you think it is? A love letter?"
"I mean, why is there only one? Where's Lando's check?"
"Well, it's against company policy--"
"Blackstone, I'm not in the mood..."
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After they cashed their checks at the corner store, Lando and Reznor were unsure of how they would spend their money; they had to be wise. Decent jobs in Metra City were an inside joke.
"Blackstone screwed us over, man," Reznor spat as the corner store became a Lego block within the rear-view mirror. "Now we don’t have a job and we have nothing lined up. Nothing!"
"Look at the bright side, Rez. At least we have a full paycheck to bounce back off."
"Do you always have to say something positive?"
"I don’t know, maybe? It’s just how my brain works I guess," Lando said timidly.
"Don’t mind me. I'm just zoning out, man."
"Yeah, I feel you. So where are we going from here?" Lando asked as he drifted below the green light.
"Well, we could go see what Chase and Nim are up to."
"It's not even eight-thirty yet."
"Come on, man, they get up before we get up. You know this..."
"Yeah, you’re right."
Before they arrived to the boarding house where their homies stayed, they peeped out Nimrod reading a newspaper on the curb. Timberlands adorned his feet, and a rust colored jean set covered his frail body. Nimrod's face was as stern as a fallen angel’s. A dull, slender mustache guided by feeble lips, not to mention a close-shaved head were his most prominent physical qualities. A black bandanna barely exposing his dark eyes complimented his bad boy look. He wore his light copper complexion well. A desirable, young thug with a “Never-Care, Never-Will” attitude. But he did care-- about money. He definitely was on a tight clutch flipping whatever money he had stashed. Only job he knew was on the block. Working a nine to five was insane to him...
And from the side of the bushes came the stocky man in the clique, Chase $, his mentor to a degree. Here he came with an over-sized medallion which displayed the head of Medusa in gold sprinkled with brilliant diamonds. The face of Chase $ was fully bearded. His face proudly featured the nose of the Sphinx that Napoleon shot off centuries ago. His eyes could cut diamonds and dig through you at ease. They were deep as Atlantis, and dark as the abyss. His skin wasn't too dark or too light, a medium brown. Full lips ready to kiss death whenever she came and braids long enough to choke her. His wrist shined from every angle, nearly blinding out the tattoos covering his arm. Lando pulled up to the curb and both of the hustlers hopped in back of the van.
"Whassup, palomaz!" Nimrod said boisterously. "Aren’t ya'll supposed to be at work?" Nimrod asked looking at his Yacht Master Rolex.
"What?! Ya'll fools got fired, didn't ya'll?” Chase $ asked with a devilish grin that rivaled Blackstone’s.
"Screw you, Chase." Through Reznor's tone you could sense tension rising.
"I told ya'll dudes to roll with me and Rod. So many times. What, ya'll thought I was bluffing?" Chase questioned.
"I know how you two make your money and I'm not here to judge either one of you," Lando said cautiously.
"Don't!!" Nimrod spat with fire. He tightened up his bandanna as he glanced in the rear-view.
"And don't smoke in my van. Last time you rolled, I had to light an incense to clear the smell."
"Ahhh, stop your whining," Chase $ said with a mellow chuckle. "You sound like somebody’s mama. I told you about that. And why in the world are you headed to our spot, tort? If we wanted to go to the crib we would be at the crib instead of on the block."
"So where are you trying to go?" Lando asked as he turned to look at him.
"We
aren’t going anywhere...Physically. Just cuz we’re on the curb
doesn't mean we aren’t whippin', fool!" Chase $ joked.
"Did
you two get fired for smoking crack or something?" Nimrod asked
seriously. "We’re at more places than ya'll, paloma. Always
have, always will,” he said slowly.
"Yeah, just don't get caught up with those Cannons, loma," Reznor said.
"Shut it up, stick-fiend," Nimrod coughed out. "You’re on their stick or something? Forget the Cannons, you register?"
"Just watch your backs," Lando said.
"Screw 'em, screw 'em, screw 'em!" Such a venom in Nimrod's tone.
"Ya'll palomaz just keep an eye out for the Cannons cuz--" Reznor stopped as Chase $ cut in.
"Shut it up, Rez. How 'bout I start my own gang. How do you feel about that? Are you gonna be on our sticks like you’re on the Cannons’? Let me know now. We'll add you to the groupie list if you’re gonna sweat us like you’re sweating the MC’s."
"Like I said, screw 'em," Nimrod said with his head tilted. He was observing his cell trying to see who was calling.
Reznor and Lando just looked at each other shaking their heads as they often did at the union Chase and Nimrod held. Two slime balls meshed together by some freak accident. It was a wonder that the two pairs rolled with each other due to the shortcomings between the two, but they were all friends. Their words at times were harsh to a fault, yet they still held that connection. Rarely were the pairs mixed; Lando & Reznor went their way and Chase $ & Nimrod went theirs. They seemed so agitated at that moment so Lando figured it would be best for both parties to part. Once the van had 360’ed them back to their origin, history repeated itself.
"Alright, lomaz. We’re riding out to Lake Falls in a few. Holla at me so we can get up later...Ya'll aren’t working and all," Chase $ said with a snicker.
"Forget you," Reznor said as Lando pulled off right after Nimrod slammed the door. Reznor looked at the lavishness of both of their apparel and envisioned himself in such fine fabrics. Spending hundreds on jeans wasn’t anything to them. The world seemed hidden from him, like it was locked away. Why couldn't he just succeed with his music? And how come he just lost his job he wondered. God’s plan or the Devil’s…Distraught and dazed by reality, he let Lando carry on one-way conversations. Reznor only caught bits and pieces of Lando’s ramblings...((I don't know how I'm going to pay my car note))...((Grandma's going to be so upset))...Although Reznor was disturbed by the loss of his job all he could think about was his music career. That would surely get his family and him out of Mahone, out of Metra City entirely. But currently, it was nothing. His brilliant dream was fading away. (Hey!) (Hey!) (Hey!)
"Hey, Reznor, you alright, man?" Lando asked Reznor who was slumped in the car seat like a sniper-struck passenger.
"Umm, yeah…” Reznor wiped his forehead of any sweat that may have built up and exhaled to himself. “Lando, I can't keep living like this."
"What do you mean? Talk to me, Rez," Lando said.
"I'm going crazy, man. For real...How come I can't get to where I want to go? Why doesn't anything good ever happen to a loma like me?"
"I know where you’re coming from," Lando said looking away from him. "I asked myself that from time to time as well. We really should count our blessings more though. I know it's kind of early, but do you want a drink?"
"I could use one," Reznor said. "Your spot?"
"Yeah." .
Lando's Townhouse - Lando barely lived in Metra and if he moved a few blocks down he would be a resident of Larchmont, VA. His townhouse was fresh with new, burgundy paint and an emerging apple tree in front of it. How Lando would pay his grandma the rent was a complete mystery to him. She owned the property and the rent he paid was her primary financial means. Until a decision was made on what to do on the job-front was made, life was to be enjoyed for what it was worth. They couldn’t afford to stress it because stress was a silent assassin. Lando tilted the bottle of Amarula and let its chocolate, milky essence flow into a glass mug. He then poured himself a double-shot of Hennessy and brought both into the living room where he noticed Reznor sunk inside of his couch.
"Here you go, ace," Lando said with his hand stretched outward.
“Kahlua?”
"No, it's actually Amarula." Reznor looked at the mug questionably. "I didn't put any codeine in it," Lando laughed.
"What are you drinking?" Reznor sniffed lightly as his eyes focused on the video playing on MTV-2. "Smells like Henny."
"Yeah, it is...You want Hennessy instead?"
"It doesn't matter too much," Reznor confessed. He reached his arm out for the Amarula, but Lando handed him the Hennessy instead.
"Thanks, Lando. You’re a good friend." Reznor took the entire solution in one gulp. "Oh yeah...Henny never lets me down."
"You speak of it like it’s your God. Well, thanks for letting me have the Amarula.”
"Haha. You’re the one with the pimped out mini-bar. What are you complaining for?"
"Rez, how am I going to pay my rent? Okay, I still have some birthday money left, but-- man. I’m going to come up short. I mean, no, I can’t come up short."
"Yeah, and who's gonna help my mom pay her rent. Jazzy?"
"Don't worry, Rez. I know we're not going to fall behind. I won't let you fall and I know you have my back. You register?"
"Most definitely. We have to come up with something soon. The only thing is, I'm so tired of this 9 to 5 nonsense. I know I get paid for it but I still feel like a slave. Like, something is out of sync."
"So what are you going to do, hustle!?" Lando asked with an assaulting tone.
"NO...I'm going to make it. One way or the other."
"Okay. Okay, I like that," Lando said as he sat back on the couch.
"You should. Anyway, lemme tell you about this freaked out dream I had earlier," Reznor said.
"Proceed."
"Alright, register this. I was pushing this Mercedes coupe straight off the showroom floor, pretty as all outdoors. Through the pouring rain, mind you. But the chick I had riding shotgun was even prettier. A real life model. Her skin was like gold, beyond gorgeous. She was rocking some of Jackie O's panties and whatnot. You believe that? Anyway, I'm high as heaven and she’s talking about she wants to bang, so of course I’m with it."
"Jackie O's panties, huh? Sorry, go ahead, Rez."
“Okay, so she asks me to drop the roof while she rides me. No problem. The raindrops fall on us while we embarrass math."
“How do you embarrass math?” Lando asked puzzled.
“Make two become one. It lasted like no time though. And I was like a celebrity or something. Maybe an actor. I don’t know, but I do know she stopped abruptly.”
"I'm sure that blew your high," Lando said sarcastically.
"I guess…I don’t remember much more after that."
"She broke you off something-something," Lando said.
"It seemed so real, bro." Lando began to take it more serious. "All I remember is gunshots ringing in my ears. From a dream to some sort of nitemare."
"Hmm," Lando said with slight amusement.
"What does it mean?" Reznor asked his friend.
"You have the nerve to ask me what does it mean? You don’t even remember it all. I can’t even explain my own dreams."
"I told you all that I know of it. At least tell me something, paloma."
"This may sound condescending. My apologies if it does. Stick to the hoodrats?"
III
Friday had finally arrived to Metra City...Yet the weekend wasn't much to celebrate as Reznor walked his sister to the bus stop. This was a task typically carried out by his mother, but now Rez had eight extra hours. That wretched Mr. Blackstone. Autumn was feeling its way through town, crushed acorns scattered on the streets.
"Will you marry me, Jasmine?" a thin-framed kid asked. His hair was that of a sheep's coat and the clothes on the child would be much better off in a washer machine. Jasmine didn’t waste thoughts on the condition of his clothing as she smiled at him, hearing out his youthful courting. "If I can't, can I at least be your friend?"
"You already are, Michael," Jasmine said. With that, she hugged him and his soul danced to the heavens. About a dozen kids stood in a cipher around the pair and giggled.
Reznor stared at the children…So full of young energy bubbling over inside their shells. Only if he could capture a cup from the fountain of youth and begin anew. Reznor seen from afar, as in that instance, the joy in the hearts of children. The magic that seemed to be eternal swirled within their under-developed bodies. Such a thing could not be bought and was indeed a priceless treasure. Rez watched Jazzy hop onto the bus clutching her book bag by both straps. Such a bright kid with the world before her. She waved to big brother through the newly cleaned bus windows. How much she could see at the age of seven was marvelous, yet an extensive amount of information escaped her. Inside her brother's mind was a depression burning away every waking moment. Reznor was on the road of life driving a hooptie with a flat tire. Walking back home, he silently cried within as he saw himself as a failure. Five minutes before he arrived to his destination he heard a vehicle braking.
It was a midnite-black Denali with rims that sliced and diced. The tints were definitely in violation of the law and Reznor couldn't make out who it was. The window descended ever-so slowly as smoke seeped outward, ghanja fumes leaping out as the windows trailed downward.
Reznor’s legs went into overdrive, sprinting away from the Denali as fast as humanly possible. If they shot him, let it be somewhere that wouldn’t be critical. Reznor cursed Metra as he ran fluidly. The truck was pulling up beside him. He said a prayer to himself as he rocketed away from the vehicle.
"Whassup, paloma," Chase $ said.
"Flaming swords!” Reznor yelled out of breath. “I didn't know…Who ya'll were." He was heaving on the curb a few feet from Nimrod who was in the passenger's seat.
“If I wanted to hit you, you would’ve been hit. Everybody in Metra City knows I don’t miss,” Chase said.
"You gonna get in or what?" Nimrod asked. Nimrod's eyes were crimson and kept blinking. Reznor was pretty sure that Nimrod was messing with that cocaine again.
"Yeah, I'll slide in," Reznor said. He got in uneasily and started laughing a bit as the contact hit him full-blast. "Lemme get a hit homies."
"Here," Chase $ said handing him the blunt. "Blaze these angel wings up."
"Nah, ya'll can smoke all that lace up by ya'll selves."
"Fine with me. It aint like you chipped in, witcha unemployed self," Nimrod spat.
"You’re right. So whassup? When did ya'll get this?" Reznor asked excitedly.
"You like it?" Chase $ stared at Reznor in the rear-view mirror. "Copped this beaut from Ghost."
"Ghost? I heard he had got locked up."
"Ghost and locked up don’t even sound right together,” Chase said annoyed.
"Yeah, with that nappy beard. So he back, huh?"
"Where in the world have you been? He’s been back," Nimrod said.
"I didn't know...That's crazy," Reznor said feeling the contact again.
"Nah, you wouldn't..." Nimrod said.
The ride was hushed as Chase $ commandeered the vehicle in search of customers. The sun was shining full of glory, reflecting off of the sleek paint clothing the Denali. The only people who drove expensive automobiles in Mahone it seemed were criminals. Chase $'s heart pumped a bloodline of criminal ancestry. His father was fried in the electric chair for a triple-homo, which included his nemesis’s wife and first born. He was wild as all outdoors until the very end. When they asked him what he wanted for his last meal, he said Betha. That was Chase’s mom. They had never had that request before, but it was his last meal, so they felt it was only right to honor his unique request. Before that, his grandfather poisoned his own wife to collect her inheritance. Stupid old man never got to spend a penny of the estimated forty thousand. Back then, that was quite a handsome amount of money. Still the same, Chase $ was just as haywire, if not more. The way he saw it was that they missed one important element of committing crimes: making a profit.
Chase didn’t have time to think of past issues. The Denali crept up to Lake Falls in search of the next drifting fiend. The Lake was a hustler's wet dream with a fiend popping up from every corner in need of a fix. You had withered souls clinging for a dose of heroine, potheads looking for some killer, dopeheads, and a lotta freaks trying to get their hands on a few pills.
Before Chase parked the car on the corner, a fiend came dragging. Her teeth were ghoulish and the hair on her head was hanging on for dear life. She was the face that would make anyone think twice about doing drugs. And to think Halloween wasn't until the next month.
"What do you want, sexy?" Chase $ asked. Nimrod snickered as the word sexy rolled off of Chase's sly tongue.
"You think um sexy? You wanna screw me?" she asked poking her decaying butt out. Drugs were so detrimental.
"No, I'm alright, boo. I got some crucial. Check it out, you don’t need wings to go to heaven. I'm going to give you a sample, but when you see me again, don't front." He handed her a small bag of dope.
"Bless your heart." She put the bag in her jean pocket and sprinted off into an abandoned house. Even though he didn’t approve of the lifestyle, Reznor secretly admired Chase's hustling strategy. Right behind her came another and another and another until the faces became a blur. Some he charged, some he just hit off with samples. If he kept up like he did though, Lake Falls would be sewn by one man who felt he could do the job just fine with the aid of one other…
“Nimrod, you see how--" Chase $ stopped in disgust at the sight of a fiend hovering above the Denali. "Hold up, you big, ugly sucker. I'm talking business, you register?" Chase rolled up the tinted windows and continued, "You see how I got this going, man? Nimrod, we are going to make a lot of money out here. We don’t have to be scared of the Cannons like everybody else. On the future, they’re going to be bowing to us."
"Hahaha...That's why I deal with you. Instead of lil punks like Reznor. You still on their sticks, boy?"
"I’ve never been on the Cannons, Roddy Piper. But you are cuz you’re always saying something about them," Reznor said as to prove a point. The point dug into Nimrod's very being.
"Nah, nah, nah. I talk about them cuz they are trash. Just like you. Why would I be on their stick? I’m not like you. I just talk about them to talk trash about them, you register?" Nimrod paused to inhale and exhale. "Screw you, Rez-Nore. No job having sucker."
"Don't bleed cuz your high’s going down..." Reznor said.
Chase $ stayed on the corner for a bit, but then Nimrod’s nose started twitching. “I smell bacon,” Nimrod said casually. That’s all Chase needed to hear. Summarily, the Denali burned rubber. Chase wasn't too frightened though, because he had a secret hatchway directly under the ashtray. Ghost always looked out for the hustlers, because he was one himself. Birds of a feather flock together, or so the saying goes. If so, how could Reznor set so modestly in the backseat while Chase $ and Nimrod zoned out with lace in their systems and a self-destructive force within? Maybe he had one within as well, you suppose?
"So what’s concrete? What are we doing tonite?" Nimrod asked with his hands in the air. Reznor shrugged his shoulders and silently hated how Nimrod acted when he had coke in his system.
"Yo, Rez, you know they gotta freestyle competition tonite at that, uh, spot. I know it's gonna be at nine." Chase $'s brain was a bit numbed out.
"The competition is at the rec. What is concrete? You trying to rock the mic?" Nimrod asked turning in his seat to see Reznor's face. Such a face belonged on the cover of a magazine. Although not socially regarded as handsome as Lando, Reznor's face was more intriguing. Rez's head was closely shaved like Nimrod's, but carried a certain glow. His eyes were cut at a slant and the pupils looked like polished onyx. A borderline transparent mustache met his upper lip and his bottom lip hovered above his fine chin hairs, trimmed to a pyramid. His neck was branded with ‘Fam 1st’ in cursive. He had to hold it down for the family. More had to be in store for him he thought time and time again. Would entering the freestyle competition be a positive step for him or would he be ridiculed?
"I don't know...I don't know who's going to be there, anyway," Reznor said so disconnected from reality.
"Come on, loma!" Nimrod exploded.
"Yeah, we should go there," Chase $ said. "It’s nothing to lose."
"Yeah, it is actually. I could lose and get clowned," Reznor said.
"Why do you gotta be thinking like that, though? You’re Mother Theresa nice, paloma," Chase $ spat in a hurry.
"All day," Nimrod added. "Everything you lemme hear was flaming. If you back out now, you really are a punk."
"Aww man, I don't really have nothing to lose," Reznor admitted.
"You aren’t working either. Imagine stepping up in the rec smoother than a bottle of X-O, not giving a care about who’s feelings you hurt. Just burning every dude you come across. Aint none of these dudes are seeing you. When you’re done embarrassing those lames we can go out and celebrate,” Chase said.
"Hmm…That sounds tight. But....How much does it cost to get on the board?"
"Bro, don't worry about that. You just got fired so me and Rod got you covered. Just don't say we never did anything for you."
"Oh, boy...I'm going to be performing tonite. Well, freestyling against other guys from around the way. I know Karnage is going to be there, Golden Dream. And Pyro might be there. Yo, I gotta practice. This is going to be intense!" Reznor yelled from the back in shock.
"Haha...Boy, you silly. You want go to the crib or what?" Chase $ asked. They had just passed their old school, Wythe Elementary. Ninety-two percent African-American-- you do the math.
"Yeah, lemme get to the crib. Can I go sign up for the battle first?"
"Shut that nonsense up. You sign up at the door," Nimrod said.
"Ohh, alright. That's cool," Reznor said glancing outside the window.
"Be ready at eight," Chase $ said as Reznor exited the Denali.
Reznor's residence 14:06- When Reznor came home, he felt lonesome but, at the same time, content. His mother was at work and Jazzy was still in school being her usual, cheerful self. This was the time for him to practice his freestyle assault. He was a lyrical warrior decorated with the blood of past rivals and wised by scars of worthy adversaries. This time it was for the gusto. He turned on his stereo and threw on an instrumental CD.
<Aight, off the top...off the top...I flow like a javelin to whomever I'm battle-lin'/Cop some aspirin cuz I murder flows passionate/ The sharpest knife in the cabinet, slicing away/ But I keep--Ugh.............The sharpest knife in the cabinet, slicing away/ But my rapid-fire flow keep sniping away/ You can call me Rez, or just R Easy/ I like to lay behind tints, you don't gotta see me/ Look in the mirror, only one can be me/ Biblical mayhem, you don't gotta believe me/ See; I do it for lost souls at the crossroads/ And spit the boss flows to nemies who oppose/ In my own zone, Metra City breed the realest/ No love lost, the nite death kiss the killaz/ I puff heavy dro atop villas and get right/ Dudes sharp at the tongue until they get knifed/ I wifed Life separated from Death, annulled destruction/ Put the game down, and now the chicks are lusting/ Say I got venom, you just move like a snake/ Or rock the snake skins, baby you’re fake-in/ A blazing torch, scorch my territory/ Many want to know my story or take my glory/ But I bust bang bust back, just trust that/ Cock hammers so hot that palomaz can't touch that...>
"Whew..." Reznor felt he was on the right track for a change. Could he gain momentum or would he fall behind like so often in the past? Reznor kept going, beat after beat. Practicing, practicing, practicing. His eyes were vivid with desire and ambition. Was it written or was this just another setback? No, he felt this was destiny. So struck with the vision of victory, Jazzy slipped past his room and into her own room. She knew her brother was deep into his music as graphic material spewed out of his mouth effortlessly. Jasmine shut the door like a proper girl of her age would do.
The hours burned away as the fire in Reznor's heart grew. From being fired the day before to an opportunity to shine amongst freestyle monsters, Reznor needed to count his blessings. After nearly a hundred freestyles, it was about time to show and prove.
After getting dressed in a Mahone Runners basketball jersey, black Play Cloths jacket, and a pair of black jeans, he was ready to lace up his Timbs. Reznor heard the horn blowing. He already knew what time it was. His mother was sitting on the couch, braiding Jasmine's hair. Ms. Scott's hands were so elaborate.
"Hey, mama," Reznor said as he zipped up his jacket.
"Hey, baby," Ms. Scott said with a smile. Her frame was a tank of a woman, yet was well proportioned. Jasmine smiled at the sight of her brother.
"Like my hair?" Jasmine asked pointing her fingers at the left side which was complete with micro-braids twisting towards the center-line. Reznor felt like his mother's work, only halfway complete.
"Impressive," Reznor said. "I like it!"
"Where are you going, son?" Reznor's mother asked.
Reznor sighed and looked at his Timberlands, which he was wearing for the first time. Staring at the cleanliness, he looked up and said, "I'm going to do my thing, mama."
IV
Almost as soon as Reznor got outside the black stallion came, this time with Nimrod at the wheel. Nimrod must've went around the block to make a quick sell…So impatient. Reznor hopped in and the rims went spinning so furiously you'd almost expect to see sparks fly. Reznor talked with Chase $ and Nimrod with a reasonable amount of composure, but inside he felt uneasy. How would he do he wondered as his two homies talked about this and that in front of him. So many words shot back and forth that Rez just decided to double-dutch between their words. Metra, in rare form, looked as amazing as Pluto’s hue. Maybe it was the lights that were reflecting off the Denali’s midnite skin. It also could have been how the white chalk on the streets were illuminated by the grace of the moon. Then again, just the fact that the stars were ready to be in harmony with the darkness. To think life is wasted so easily, started over such a shot in the dark, and to regain scientifically impossible. Reznor felt it was all of thee above for him.
Whatever was lost in his life was to be restored in one nite wasn’t very sensible…Still, it seemed like a fair gamble. Maybe he would be just as well off sniffing with Chase and Nimrod. In all honesty though, Reznor deserved at least the opportunity to fail in front of an audience! Deserving of all eyes on his defeat just as so many brave hearted men earned. It was approaching his time to understand where he stood in the food chain of rap. To be dominated by another lyricist was almost as detrimental as being beat down to Reznor. He hated the thought of losing. This state of mind prevented him from thinking about entering such contests...Just freestyling on the block had always been enough for him. It was time to think bigger.
"...Karnage is going to joke about your edge-up. It's a lil crooked, Rez," Chase $ said. Reznor felt his hairline and stopped at the center with disgust. Yes, Karnage would indeed clown him on that.
"You’ve gotta watch out for Pyro cuz he’ll probably come at you about that jersey. Runners keep getting that butt spanked, Rez, and you know they do," Nimrod said. He made a sly turn after spotting Metra's finest.
"Yeah, but you used to play for 'em," Rez said with a scent of confusion. Nimrod turned around with his foot still on the pedal.
"And what does that mean?" Nimrod asked. With that, he turned his focus back to the road, running over a chubby, grey cat. It simulated hydraulics on the ride. Nimrod hated cats with a passion and used to spend many days covering the six million ways to kill on felines. The face of an angel mixed with the venom of a king cobra. And for the record, Nimrod didn't give a care about the Mahone Runners even when he was their star point guard.
The nite was still young as the moon hung in the cradle of darkness, bedazzled by the mystical stars. Reznor caught a glimpse of over a dozen stars in one glance. The star that burns brightest burns fastest they say. At Reznor's rate, he was a long way from burnout. Still, Reznor remembered in science class, if only barely, how they spoke about the speed of light. Some of the occurrences presented in outer space no longer even existed. The crazy thing was, even if a star blew apart, it took so many years for the image to appear to human eyes. So, bad news doesn't always travel fast, now does it?
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