Live And Let Die

Part I: You're Crazy

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It was September 17, 1985. The rain decided to travel in early to lonely Los Angeles. The City of Angels it translated to. Funny though, this city had the least of them. My abuela used to always say Los Angeles would be the new chapter for my family, it would bring us closer to God. My father was shot in the back when I was nine by a thief at a drug store. He was buying me cold medicine. My mother later died of cancer like my abuela. I had to help take care of my three brothers, alone. That was a long time ago though. Only this time I'm alone and taking care of myself.

The cafe smelt of cigarette smoke and tequila. It was a cafe in the morning and a bar in the evening. Fredrick always put me on for early evenings when it was slow. Almost offensive because nobody can hear me. I generally play folk songs on my guitar, for everybody who are actually present are already drunk and stoned from their own devices. I'm a bartender in the mornings as well two days a week. My hours are being shortened down by each week and I know what's going to happen the next. I don't know why I wouldn't just get up and leave the dump, but I always had an excuse. I'm terrible at that. I never want to leave, I'm not fond to change.

Anyways, smoke hovered around my head and the only other sound besides the clinging of a few glasses, were the rapid rain droplets against the window. Oh how I would love just to walk out and bathe in its rare occurrence, but I had an excuse again. It was almost six-thirty when I finally decided to put up for the night. I rolled on my worn leather jacket and hung my acoustic behind my back. The old creaky door was just out of my reach when Fredrick, the cafe owner, caught me.

"Stevie I need you in at five to open. I'll pay you for overtime." I didn't even pay attention to what he said, all I could look at was his mustache that always hung over his lip. Just the way it curled at the ends bugged me. Grooming is a powerful entity.

"Um, ya okay." I quickly turned away from him and his mustache as fast as possible, but he yanked on my shoulder again.

"I mean it Zabala, five sharp. Elyse bailed out on me again." I still kept gazing at his facial hair. Only if he shaved it, it would do wonders for him. He wasn't totally hopeless just maybe a new pair of kicks could even do him good.

"Uh-huh" I nodded and stared at the bar mirror instead. The long black hair stuck to my sweat stricken face. My large twine hat was a little lop-sides which bugged me immensely. I only stared though without a clue. Sometimes that's all one can do. Fredrick kept babbling on about his problems when I finally just laid my hand on his shoulder and said, "Five I got it boss." I winked at him and faster left again for the third time. The smoke and alcohol was getting to me and I needed some sleep. I can be a bit of an insomniac. I hadn't slept for the past two days due to sound. I'm a light sleeper and the sound of L.A. traffic doesn't help any.

I swung open my apartment door. Days old trash lied scattered around my living room. I placed my guitar by the door and flopped onto the orange stripped couch. My radio was still on statically buzzing a song. I switched it off immediately and groaned. A long day can pay off in the advantage of me being able to fall asleep. I didn't eat that night, just slept. I woke up at four in the morning to the honking of a vehicle. I shot my head up in freight. My hat from yesterday fell off. My eye makeup was smeared across my face and my hair was a tangled mess, but I had to go. I panicked and quickly took my leather jacket off and slipped on an already three times worn tank top, then my jacket again. I wore my same jeans and simply put my hair up into a ponytail and left without a trace.

The breathing became deeper and deeper by each step I took. I couldn't be late to open again. I kind of have a reputation for being not the most punctual person. I made it about four-forty, ish. I jingled the keys to the shop until I found the one for the front. I had to aim a few times before finally slipping the key into the lock. Then I had to twist the key a couple of times until the lock decided to work. I ran in hastily, dusting off shelves and pouring beans into the coffee maker. No use though because nobody shows up generally for awhile. It usually took people a few hours until they realized we were still in business. But this time someone was there, right outside of the door. They were wearing a grey hoodie over their head and with their hands lingering in their pockets. The person quickly stepped in with their drenched hoodie. I stood up straight to appear strong, you never knew the kind of characters were stuck up in these areas. The person sat down at a bar chair. Their hoodie was still on so I couldn't get a good view of them. Their back was hunched back. They placed their arms onto the bar. I walked over confidently towards them.

"Don't-" The man said slightly putting his right hand up. I could see a sly smirk upon his face. "I just want a bourbon, hold the ice." I stood there for a couple of seconds. The information didn't really set in until he started looking straight at me as well. When I finally realized what I was doing I apologized and went on to make the drink. I gave bourbon back to him promptly, which wasn't very difficult saying it was only bourbon.

He just sat there for a while as I cleaned some old cups. He barely even touched the drink. I would now and then gaze through the bar mirror. He even took off his hood. He had lightly damp strawberry blonde hair that stopped a bit past shoulder length. He look so young, almost like a young boy. He lit a cigarette and closed his eyes at every puff. I'd even catch him peeking up at me sometimes. He seemed so melancholy.

"Who are you?" The man asked me in a raspy voice. He caught me off guard a bit. I turned around towards him.

"Well, I'm Stev-" he interrupted me right in the middle of my sentence again.

"No I mean, this." He took another puff of his cigarette near my face.

"I don't think I understand?" I put down the rusty silver tray I was polishing and lied my arms on the bar to get closer. He moaned in exhaustion.

"Why are you a server? Why are here?" He smushed the cigarette bud into the bar.

"I'm actually a bartender sir." I brushed some dust off of my apron I was wearing.

"It's William, I'm no sir" He chuckled as he took another sip of his drink. "Anyways I was just wondering because this place is a fucking dump." He pulled out another cigarette. "Don't you have any dreams or aspirations besides serving to drunk bastards like me?" His smoke blew back into me face.

"Well I guess, its just isn't the right time to exactly pursue them quite yet." I mumbled.

"Your life not mine." He got up wobbly. He placed a few dollars on the table and passed me his cigarette.

"Oh, I don't smoke." He smirked again and laughed abnoxiously.

"Well you better start, it's going to be your only friend later on...in time. Just finish it off." I took it and burned it out. He walked over in large steps towards the door. He paused as he grabbed the handle and turned his head around. "I'll see you later catch." He walked out back into the rain without his hood on. What an interesting character. I've never had one like him burst in before.

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"You don't want my love," - You're Crazy by Guns N' Roses

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Hope you enjoy it, more soon to come. Comment for any suggestions or just to show your love!