read more la bus stop

Lucky Little

Summer of 1985, South L.A. continued...

(NOTICE: R Rated story) Mumbling to myself, “Damn Bobby, what the hell did you do? You’re gonna die out here tonight. Think Bobby think. Stayin’ alive baby, stayin’ alive, think baby think”. My thoughts are racing. “Damn, I can’t make out their colors but I know they’re selling drugs, that was the fourth car to stop and get their stuff, and I know they’re a gang, this is south freakin’ L.A. for crying out loud. A block away, they probably won’t even notice me. Five, six... shit, seven. Ok, ok, ok, think. Damn red shirt! What the hell was I thinking? Damn bus routes. What the hell. Bloods gotta be red right? I mean Crips wouldn’t be red and the Bloods be blue, would they? Blue bloods? That’s funny. Shut up Bobby! I don't know! Does it really matter? I mean look at you. What are you Don Johnson? Freaking Miami Vice? White pants, white jacket with the sleeves rolled up, red tank top and your freaking K-Swiss. Like a lamb in the freaking wolves den. Damn Bobby, dumbass. Just sit still and look straight ahead. They gotta think I’m a lunatic. A white dude that looks like Elvis sitting at a bus stop at 11:30 at night in the freaking hood, wearing all white. Hair all gelled out. Quit looking around! Damn Bobby, what the hell? The bus will be here any minute, come on now, he said you take it downtown, catch the number 7, that’ll take you back to Hollywood. My little 8 by 11 room at the YMCA was looking like the Hyatt now. Man, home sweet home, right. Just enough room for a bed, a desk and a little tv. I could see the Hollywood sign right out my window. They had a community shower down the hall and a pay phone in the lobby. My room was cramped but it beat sleeping on crazy Eddie’s floor. That’s okay, this is where all the big ones started. What a dreamer. Just a short walk down Wilcox and I was at the famous Mann’s Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Blvd. Daily, walking over the stars on the sidewalk. “Quit your fantasizing Bobby”, I snapped myself back to my current situation. “Get me the hell out of here”, I said just above my breath. My internal talk is non-stop. “Damn Bobby. Always something with you. Always gotta be a story to tell. Well, here’s one way to look at it, you’ve only been in L.A. one week and already you’re about to make the headlines. I can see it now, they’ll be watching the news”, ‘Unidentified Body Found in Field’. The on camera reporter says, “In the Los Angeles suburb of Inglewood today, police were called out to investigate a man who was seen smoking what is considered to be the new ‘poor man’s cocaine’, what they are calling ‘crack’”.(Remember it’s 1985). The reporter goes on, “This area is known for its heavy gang related activities and rival wars between the Bloods and the Crips. While questioning the ‘crack’ smoking suspect one of the officers noticed what looked to be blood on the bench, there at the bus stop surrounded by investigator’s tape”. The camera pans over to the blood on the bench. “A trail of blood led them to that field across the street that as you can see is covered in high weeds. Upon further investigation they found the body of a 6’1, 180 pound white male, dressed like Don Johnson, with a knife stab in the back, a bullet to the heart and blunt trauma to the head”. The newscast in my head ends abruptly and I think of the things I was running from back in Houston, back in Alief. The cops had the names of all the ‘Locals’ and were trying every day to find a reason to bring us in. We had gotten away with so much it drove them crazy. The police that patrolled Alief were well aware that Mike had killed himself and that the entire crew was reeling. Mike’s death changed the world for us. That could be a dangerous thing. Like moving dynamite. I had to get out of town. College could wait. I’m thinking, “shit, sounds like all the reasons I came to this city anyway.” Being stabbed in the back, my heart shredded and my mind being made up by others as to what I should do with my life. F**k that. I’m gonna make it here. I’m not gonna die tonight. I’m gonna be famous. Then I’m bringing the whole crew out. I’ll find something for everybody to do. They’re counting on me. Nobody else is gonna do it. Nobody’s gonna do it for you Bobby. I knew the truth. I blurted out, “Nobody gives a shit”. At the end of the day I found it was best to just take care of yourself. I had been doing it since my parents divorced and my brother went away to prison. Everybody has their own life to live. I went back to my short pity party in my head. “Hell, that’s been the story since you were born. Your birth parents don’t care. If they did they would have found you by now. It’s not like you have moved all around the world throughout your life with no trace of your past. You’re freaking 19. Born and raised on the south side of Houston, one move to podunk Alief just 15 miles away and boom, there since then. Until this little trek to Hollywood. The woman that f…ing delivered me must have the names of the doctors and lawyers and shit like that. She was there for God’s sake. They could find you if they cared to”. Noticing one of the gang members looking at me, the words slip out of my mouth, “Shit, that dude just freaking looked right at me. Now they’re all looking over here. Shit! Okay, think Bobby. If I run they come after me anyway and I miss the last bus coming through.” Now stiff and quiet I’m thinking to myself. “Oh no, don’t come over here. Shit. You can have my jacket, my wallet, my jewelry, my shoes, even my cash stash I hide in my sock, but just let me not die tonight”. “Damn, where the hell is the f**king bus?!” Negotiating with God in my head, “God, I know I've never been to church. I know I’ve done a lot of bad, very bad things, but God, if I have any credit at all, I mean, I have done some good things too, well, tonight would be the night I’d like to cash out. This will use up like years of asking you for anything. I swear. Please God do not let me end up dead in that field tonight. I promise I will…”. A car drives by and they take a double back look as they realize what they just saw sitting on the bench. “No, no. Shit. Do not stop the car, keep on driving. Nothing here but an idiot that caught the wrong bus at the wrong time of night. I’ll be out of here any time now. There you go, keep driving, keep driving”. Dammit, where the f**k is that f**king bus already?! Ok Bobby, it’s about to be on. Dammit! I can’t believe this is happening. I’m gonna take at least two of these motherf**kers down with me, I know that. Punch the middle one in the throat, kick the one on the right in the balls… Wait, then old slim in the back is gonna have a shot to shiv me. I’m trying to recall the last Bruce Lee movie I saw, what would he have done? No more time to think. You’ve got this Bobby. Be cool, be cool now. Talk your way out of this baby. Talk it out. Talk it out. You’re going home tonight. Home, tonight baby. Home, tonight. Come on you f**king bus!! What the f..k?! The three not so friendly looking strangers walk up on to my corner. Out of my mouth pops out, “What’s going on gentlemen?”

A Pursuit on Purpose