Drudge by Jake Walker (story reading txt) 📕

wander around. She linked her arm with mine, and I bet she felt the same as me: out of place, and quite honestly, uncomfortable.
“What are we doing here?” She shouted to me over the music.
I yelled back, “Not too sure!”
We found open spaces on the couch and took them, sitting next to strangers. Some were snorting from the coffee table. Some were laying back just bobbing their heads to the music. Some were smoking. Some were talking. All seemed to eye us with suspicion.
“Hey, white boy!” shouted one to my right, awakening me from my observations. I turned my head to see who had called me out, drinking in his appearance. It was a big, charcoal black man in a black wifebeater. He wore a black trucker hat, tilted to the side, and black jeans, which were so low I could also see that he was wearing black Joe Boxers. He was rolling a blunt. He must have seen that I was a pinch unnerved, for he offered his fist. I pounded it and he introduced himself. “I’m Jay.”
“I’m Vance. This here is Katie.” Katie waved.
“Alright,” he smiled. It seemed rather genuine. “Whatchu two doing uptown?”
“Uh,” I began, “You might know him actually, we’re here with Ian.” I looked around to try and point him out but couldn’t find him through the mass of bodies. It didn’t seem to matter.
“Oh snap! Ian! That’s my dawg! He my boy!” Jay gave an enthusiastic howl. I couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t get too much in the thick with Big Ian, cuh, he’ll fuck you up and leave you by the wayside!”
I looked at him, puzzled, “What?”
“Nah, I’m jus playin,” admitted Jay, “Ya’ll wanna hit this?” He asked, referring to the blunt he was licking and kissing with his thick, Nubian lips. I looked at Katie, who, after a heartbeat or two, nodded.
“Su-sure,” I said.
We were lost in the mire once more, Katie and I, once the hitting was underway. Jay seemed to be a proficient conversationalist and he was very entertaining, but it was all we could do to keep up with him.

“Ya’ll got jobs?”
“I do,” Katie said, “I work at Bath and Body in the mall.”
“Alright, alright,” Jay nodded, “How ‘bout you White Devil?”
“Well, I just began a temp job at Gamestop.”
“Is that right?” he said it as if it weren’t really a question, but I acknowledged it as such anyway.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“You a gamer?” he had the blunt and he was taking quick, repeated hits as if it were a wine tasting.
“No, not really. I just need the dough, ya know?”
“I feel that, nucca. I feel that.” He handed the spliff to Katie, and looked up in thought, “Ya know, I can get you working for me if you feel it, man,” his smile became mischievous and there was a glint in his eye. That was a dead giveaway, but I took the bait just to see what he would say.
“Oh, you know,” he initiated his proposal as if it was nothing special, “just knocking on some doors, making connections. You feel me? A real legitimate business network.”
“Legitimate?” Katie echoed.
“Sure,” Jay crooned as if it was Katie’s idea.
She shook her head at me and I nodded in agreement. To Jay, I said, “Sorry. I’m not too sure I’m cut out for that kinda work.”
“Shucks,” he shrugged, “I didn’t figger anyways. It takes the cream of the crop. A real man’s man.”
I didn’t respond, just digested his words. He took the silence as an invitation to continue, “It is hard work, I’ll give you that. But that’s us, man. That’s our role. We’re all drudges man.”
“Drudges?” Katie again echoed, she was gaining interest.
“Hells yeah. The underbelly of society that’s gotta do the nasty work. Somebody’s gotta do it. We do our jobs, and in so doing, we provide jobs. We fuel the police. We give them pigs reasons to harass people. We keep social workers employed. We got the workers down at the free clinic a steady paycheck. Like I said, it’s dirty work. We’re on the fringe of society. We’re outlaws. But again like I said, somebody’s gotta do it. We protect the status quo with our criminalistic activity.”
Katie and I made eye contact, silently relenting that the man had a point. That was a messed up way of looking at it but it had its logic.
I asked, “Why do you choose that role?”
You could tell he thought about it. “I dunno, man,” he said, shaking his head, “It doesn’t really make sense, but it’s sort of a pride issue. Like, can I survive the game? Ya know? You just wonder, ‘can I survive the game…” he trailed off.
“You seem to be doing pretty good,” Katie joked.
“That I am! That I am!” He exclaimed, “Hell, I’m just speaking out my ass anyways. Ha!” He got up gesturing for us to follow, “Ya’ll wanna get some more wit me?” he asked pointing at the blunt that was now down to almost nothing. We followed.
He led us into the kitchen, which was just as crowded as the living room. Ian jumped out at us with a forty duct-taped to each hand, “Aaahhh!” He was giddy and boisterous and loud.
“What you got there?” Katie inquired, finger pointing at his hands. He laughed, throwing his head back, sloshing the foamy beer with his wild gesticulations.
“They taped them on my hands, man!” Another fit of laughter. He was drunk out of his mind, “they won’t take them off until they’re finished!” Again, a laugh—a cackle really—untamed and hysterical.
We saw that Jay had made his way to the kitchen counter where we guessed his friends were. He was talking to a man of much lighter skin than his, with a white tee, and dreads that reached to the small of his back. They were laughing and joking and mingling like bros, so we figured they were close. We were about to join him there near the kitchen sink, when Ian grabbed my shoulder.
“Where y’all going, man?”
“Oh, well, you know Jay, right?”
“Jay? Aw shit! Don’t get too much in the thick with Big Jay, cuh, he’ll fuck you up and leave you by the wayside!”
Katie leaned in close, “Isn’t that what Jay said about—?”
“Uh-huh,” I nodded, “must be an inside joke or something.”
Ian was talking to two others behind him, looking like he had a really interesting story to tell. We just left him.
On our way to the counter we passed a small clearing. A place open to traffic no doubt. On our right we saw Nathan and Marcus engaged in a card game at the kitchen table. Marcus had his cap on backwards and down low to his brow, looking at his hand in deep concentration. Nathan saw us and tilted his head back, a greeting from across the room. I gave him the deuces and Katie waved. Ashley, standing behind Nathan’s chair, apparently giving him advice, called out to Katie, “Hey ho!” Katie’s smile widened.
We made our way to Jay and tapped him on his shoulder. He turned, “There y’all are, man. Damn. Take forever.”
“Sorry man, we got held up for a sec. Does your offer for more still stand?”
He held up a freshly rolled blunt, “Sure do.” He lit it and took a couple of quick puffs to get it going. We noticed that no one else at the counter was smoking but instead, were snorting off the marble countertop. That’s cool. That just means more for us. I was standing there in quiet anxiety, wishing there was a chair I could sit in. I was about to ask Jay if we could go back to the living room. Then hell broke loose.
Jay’s bro was snorting, and two girls were holding his dreads back for him so that they wouldn’t interfere with his goings-on. He made his way with the straw down half of the line, smooth and without effort, when he made a sudden and abrupt stop. It grabbed our attention because the aggressive sniffing sound halted. Jay looked down and assessed the situation, “You alright, man?”
No response. The man just stood there, hunched over, straw and hand still in place. The two women still holding the man’s dreads looked at each other, confused.
“You alright, man?!” Jay asked again with more urgency.
The guy lifted his head back and began making small choking, guttural noises in his throat. His pupils had rolled back into his head so we can only see the whites of his eyes. He threw up. Everywhere. It was a green, foamy fluid that splashed against the countertops, ruining the lines that had been set out, setting the razors slightly adrift. “In the sink! In the sink!” People were shouting. The whole kitchen froze and everybody’s eyes were on the man with the dreads.
Just as we suspected that his retching had ended, he made another convulsion. He spewed more vomit. Foam much thicker than before seemed to curdle down his chin and down his neck. He stood back, made a step to balance himself, but he was convulsing wildly. Too wildly. His female friends behind him backed away to avoid the spittle and spew that was flying out of his orifices. He collapsed and his chest heaved in overdosed violence. His back pitching up and down as his appendages shook. His head was now brutally shaking back and forth, still spraying the green stuff. His twitches were sudden and severe.
I was frozen. For a second there, while he stood, his glazed, pearl white eyes bore into mine. I felt like he was examining my soul. His own eyes seemed to possess no soul, and the sight of them caused a sick little lurch in the pit of my stomach. And now on the ground he writhed, helpless and uncontrollable. I overheard someone say, “We need to call for help!” I looked over at Katie, whose hand was now clutched tightly on mine, as if rigor mortis had set in. Her dismal countenance showed that she was feeling the same as me: completely terror-stricken. Just then, someone behind us threw us around. It was Ian.
“We need to go, now!” He screamed. He had somehow tore the duct-taped forties off of his hands, making them red and swollen, and slightly bruised. “C’mon, Vance! Katie! Let’s go!” Apparently, Katie and I were still locked in our abysmal death stares for he shook us both to rouse us to. It dawned on us that we indeed had to go. Calling for help meant some type of authority was going to be here soon, and I definitely did not feel like dealing with anyone of that sort.
Jay and others that were close to the fallen man formed a crowd around him to offer help and condolence. My crew, I knew, didn’t have the luxury to provide charity. We had to leave now. We made our way to the entrance, which was now quickly getting congested as everyone else obviously had the same idea. Katie’s hand was still clutched in mine has she ran beside me. Nathan, Marcus and Ashley fell in line behind us, hurried and visibly shaken. “What the fuck is going on?” Marcus wailed as he pushed us towards the wall of bodies, “What the fuck is going on!?”
Ian spun around with grave urgency, “Where’s Lauren!?” Lauren. She was so quiet the entire night that I didn’t even think to consider her whereabouts. Ian tried to go against the traffic, throwing his shoulder forward to split the waves of men and women to go back and find her. I couldn’t let him do it. It might sound selfish, but he was my ride. I threw