[Completed✔] Born and raised in Tulsa, Jade Phelan reminisces her youth with a group of dealers who attempt to make a better life for themselves and the yearning she felt for one of them.
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March 21st, 1989. 7:51 P.M.
At a quarter to eight, after an hour of driving into the city, Curly parked out of the front of the plaza which held an assortment of restaurants and clothing stores. I stepped out with his hand already in mine.
He held onto my hand with a strong grasp, guiding me through the restaurant to the back door. My muscles tensed, and I felt stuck in his hold. All I could think about was the impending doom that he was leading me to. I didn't know they were this deep into crime that I would get whacked for real. I watched too many mafia movies for my own good.
A man ushered us to a table near the kitchen. As we sat down I leaned over and whispered, "How'd you get this place to let us back here?" I asked. I felt a wave of relief as a waitress passed us a menu each.
"It's a drug thing." he sighed. I should've known that. The waitress came over to take our orders then left again.
"It always is." I say.
March 21st, 1989. 9:10 P.M.
For an unknown reason he was the perfect gentleman tonight. That was up until we got back into the car again. I could feel his eyes on me. Those sort of lustful eyes that a guy gets when he wants to bang you. Or maybe I was mistaking them for something else.
Curly was unreadable. It made my heart rate increase and it wasn't love I was thinking of. "You know Brian and Dallas weren't happy. No way." he informed me. A knotted lump grew in my chest.
"Because I left the stuff out?" I say. I already knew the answer to that.
"For the whole damn world to see." he said, his voice changing into the one that terrified me most. "Why'd you do that? Why the hell did you do it!?" his voice raised.
"It's spilled milk." I muttered. I didn't want to get into this with him now. Not ever. He wouldn't have understood why I did it in the first place.
"It's spilled milk?" he mimicked. Curly brushed his chin and crooked his jaw. He just looked sinister. In an unpredictable turn of events, Curly jumped over me. His hands grasped around my throat and squeezed. Despite the pain I began to thrash under him, but his grip was too strong to wriggle out from.
"You'll never embarrass me like that again. You hear me!?" he raged, the fury only making him push down even harder. I clawed into his wrist, in an attempt to dislodge him. I couldn't even make a noise besides a straggled breath as I struggled against his strength.
Somehow I managed to dig my heel into his groin, and scramble out of the car. I almost collapsed on the sidewalk from the lack of oxygen. Curly left with a string of curse words flying from his mouth. He sped off down the road.
I hacked and I heaved until I got some air inside of my lungs. It hurt badly. I was in just as much shock. I must've appeared like some sort of hooker by the way people stared at me. I was lucky enough that a humble man was kind enough to take me over to the payphone. He couldn't drive. So I had to call someone to come get me.
As the person on the other end picked up I was lost for words. The man ended up telling them I needed help. Without any more words exchanged, someone was on the way to get me. For now the man takes me into a nearby store.
March 21st, 1989. 9:49 P.M.
Brian arrives as fast as he could. I didn't want to look at him. I wondered how mad he was. He takes me over to the car lot. It didn't register that I had no strength to walk until Brian was helping me.
When we got into the truck, Brian clicked on his seat belt and said, "So." I just looked at him and tried to smile but it fell flat. All I wanted to do was cry into his arms. I knew that wasn't an option. "We've had...uh..." Brian looks up at the roof, then sighs, "...A bit of a miscommunication. I guess we can deal with that at a later date."
I stared away from him. Brian could tell that something wasn't right, that something happened. He didn't ask but inside his thoughts raced. He was going to get to the bottom of it either way.
As he accelerated onto the highway, silent behind the steering wheel, he noticed a darkened part behind my hair. Brian leans over and moves the hair from my left side. A large bruise had formed across the flesh of my neck. I haven't noticed it. I couldn't pinpoint the pain because I felt it everywhere.
