Chicago

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Crispin opened the door to his trailer office that sat right outside of his auto garage and corner store. He jiggled the keys inside the hole and turned it, expecting to walk into an empty room filled with papers and office equipment but instead he interrupted the overnight stay of Saint Campbell.

Saint was passed out in Crispin's office chair with the same clothes he had on last night. He clutched onto one garbage bag that he used as a blanket while the other one rested beside him. Crispin couldn't believe his eyes as he he slammed his keys on the desk, immediately waking up Saint.

Saint's eyes shot open as he quickly got up from the chair. He was on high alert all night since he wasn't in the best neighborhood and someone was out to hurt him. He was surprised he got as much sleep as he did knowing how paranoid he was. Once Saint noticed it was his boss, he sat back down and kept quiet as he waited for Crispin to say something to him.

"Your folks kicked you out, huh?"

"What makes you think that?" Saint tried to play dumb but failed once he realized Crispin wasn't playing with him,

"Because you here in my office cuddling a garbage bag with the same clothes you had on last night. Now either you overstepping your boundaries or you're homeless."

The word "homeless" stung him as he had trouble coming to terms with his current situation. He couldn't believe his family would kick him out. All he was trying to do was make a way for himself when all odds were against him.

"Yeah, they kicked me out," Saint admitted.

Crispin shook his head as he sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. The two men sat in silence as Saint stared at the floor, his mind completely blank. He knew he had hit rock bottom and he just didn't know how he was going to pull himself up again.

"I fucked up, man," Saint took a deep breath as he buried his face in the palms of his hands. He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he so desperately needed to cry. He hated being emotional and couldn't stand to show weakness.

Crispin firmly gripped Saint's shoulder and told him to keep his head up, "it's gon' be alright, man. There is no easy road to success...you just hit a bump, that's all."

"Nah, it's clipped for me. I just proved everyone right..."

"Man you didn't prove shit other than that you're a human being. You gon' make mistakes, Saint. You gon' fall back into old habits. Everyone does it. The only difference is what you do about it. Are you just gon' sit here and tear yourself down or are you gon' try to fix your mistakes?"

"How am I gon' fix this shit? I don't even got a place to sleep at, man."

"Well you can stay with me until you get on your feet," Crispin offered.

"No," Saint shook his head, "I don't need to inconvenience you more than I have already."

"Man shut up with all that and grab your stuff. You gon' come to my place, take a shower and brush ya' damn teeth because I don't like what I smell right now. Then, you gon' throw this damn bag of weed out—matter of fact, let's do that right now."

"Hell no! That's my supply...that's hundreds worth of weed."

"It's ight," Crispin said as he grabbed the bag and hoisted it over his shoulder until he found a trash can to toss it in.

"Tomorrow you gon' go to the barber shop and get a shape up because you look rough. Then, you gon' take the day off from here and go find a job. You ain't going no where with this pity-me attitude, feel me? It's time to get get the fuck up and handle ya' business."