Chapter 6
6
HANK
“ G od dammit,” Malcolm hissed under his breath. Conrad and Kolbi laughed from their seats at the table.
“You just had to roll a two.” Conrad sucked on his lips and shook his head disapprovingly. Kolbi breathed out a laugh and rubbed his chin which was a sure sign that shit was about to go down.
“I didn’t roll the goddamn two, the dice did! All I needed to do was not roll complete trash and I would have totally bribed the guard into letting us in without having to pay the fucking toll fee.” Pursing his lips, Malcolm scrubbed his face with both hands.
I chuckled at my friends and tried to stay focused on our campaign instead of where my brain had been drifting all day.
My interaction with blondie at the gym this morning and learning her name.
Bailey.
It felt like every time I blinked her face sprang to my mind and filled it up with the image of that hundred-watt smile she gave me behind the barbell this morning. While I know it was only to get that douchebag away from her, I loved how she called me sweetie and I wanted to be able to call her ‘my girl’ for real.
“Auffroy, it’s your roll,” Kolbi directed at me, calling me by my character's name and pulling me out of my thoughts. He gave me a look, “You okay? You seem distracted tonight and you were distracted at work today.”
“Distracted? Nah man, I’m good. Just getting into the swing of everything, you know.” I picked up the die and gave it a toss.
Growing up and before I left for bootcamp, my friends and I had a standing Wednesday night hangout where we’d play Dungeons and Dragons. Our longest campaign ran for three years and was the last one we’d played before I enlisted in the Army. We always kept it under wraps in school because playing Dungeons and Dragons was the fastest way to be pegged as a nerd and a loser, which none of us wanted.
As grown ass men though, we couldn’t care less. Now we got to play and drink beer and it gave us an excuse to get together every week and shoot the shit. Kolbi was our Dungeon Master and Malcolm, Conrad, and I played the characters in the game. Reinstating our weekly campaign was something we all agreed on immediately upon my landing back in Charleston and I couldn’t be happier with the decision. My friends were my lifeline in high school. A few times, they probably did save my life. They definitely saved me from going to prison when the idea of offing my deadbeat father started to sound like too good of an idea.
After I rolled, I played through my part and listened as Kolbi weaved the story of our characters flawlessly. He was an amazing storyteller. Growing up in a Gullah Geechee family ensured him of this. I’ll never forget growing up and listening to his grandparents tell incredible stories about his family whenever I went to his house, in awe of how they spun the tales. It was no different now as we listened to him craft the harrowing story of our characters. This weekly ritual was the best part of my week because I got to spend time with the three people who mattered most to me.
The three guys who would drive me home after school because my dad spent all his money on booze and strippers so we couldn’t afford a car. The three guys who would let me crash on their couch after my dad and I had had it out for the fourth time in a week. My three best friends who supported me when I told them I was enlisting, yet got misty eyed at my swearing in ceremony and hugged me goodbye before I got on the bus to leave.
We were inseparable growing up—Kolbi, Malcolm, Conrad and I. We met for the first time in third grade when we were all in the same class. The misfit boys who all came from fucked up households and lived on the outskirts of town while everyone else wore brand new clothes and got new backpacks every school year. Once we got together, our teacher Mrs. Krazminski never stood a chance.
Malcolm was the smart one, always reading a book and occasionally bringing the newspaper to school. Where he got it, we never knew, but he would go into detail about the latest headlines at lunch without any of us asking.
Kolbi was the resourceful one, mostly because he had to be. His family didn’t have much and lived in a small house just outside of town that most of the kids in our class cruelly called a “shack”. His deep brown skin and twisted hair always made him a target for nasty names and he constantly had a target painted on his back. He kept his nose down though and the three of us always stood up for him when needed.
Conrad was always the shy one outside of our group, but in it, you could never get him to shut up. For the longest time the teachers and principals in school thought there was something else going on with him developmentally because he literally never talked. That was until he met the three of us. Turns out he just doesn’t like very many people and is highly selective on who he spends his energy on.
Then there’s me. In our group, I’m the serious one. The one who was always looking out for everyone else and who always talked the other guys out of the stupid ideas they came up with. Don’t get me wrong, we still did stupid shit growing up, a lot. But, because of me, the stupid shit we did never got us in too much trouble. The last thing I needed was to get caught doing something stupid and have to face the hands of my father in return.
The four of us did everything together once we met at just eight years old. These guys weren’t just my friends, they were my brothers.
“So, Hank, how are you liking being home?” Conrad asked as he grabbed another beer from the fridge.
“I’m liking it enough. I like where I’m living, it’s right next to the gym I go to in the morning. Work doesn’t suck, thank god my boss isn’t a complete prick.” I smirked at Kolbi and he rolled his eyes.
“That bike you bought is sick,” Malcolm said, blowing a long breath out between his lips. He wasn’t wrong.
After getting my sign-on bonus, I immediately went out and bought myself a Suzuki GSX-R1000 sport bike and had it customized with a matte black finish, black leather covers, and even got myself a custom helmet to match the paint of the bike.
Sure it cost me my entire bonus to get, but it was a sick fucking bike.
“Thanks man. I’m happy with how it turned out.” I clapped Malcolm on the back and took a swig of my own beer.
“Alright boys, I have my refill, let’s continue with the quest.” Conrad sat back down at the table, fresh beer in hand.
We all sat around a round marble table in Kolbi’s downtown home and played until the sun had set and we could hear the sounds of summer nights engulf us. Frogs humming. Dragonflies buzzing. And the faint sounds of tourists who were stumbling out of bars and heading back to their $300 a night hotel rooms. With the windows open, the breeze of the mid-June evening blew through the room. Life in downtown Charleston always came alive during the summer with an influx of tourists and travelers coming to the historic city to learn about plantations and hear ghost stories. The allure wasn’t there for me anymore as I’d always lived here, but I understood why people loved to visit.
“Alright boys, I hate to be the one who calls it, but I’m beat. Get the hell out of my house,” Kolbi joked after a few more hours of gameplay, stretching his hands above his head and rolling his neck.
“Holy shit, it’s after midnight already,” Conrad exclaimed. “We always did get lost in the game growing up, didn’t we?” he laughed.
“Hey boss, mind if I come in late tomorrow? I’m going to need the extra sleep.” I looked at Kolbi with a grin.
“If I have to be up and at the office by eight in the morning, then so do you.” He slapped me on the back.
“Thank god I have the closing shift tomorrow at the bar. I can sleep in however long I want.” Malcolm shot finger guns at all of us as he got up from the table.
“Another solution for the group to consider: just work for yourself,” Conrad offered. He worked as a freelance software engineer and could set his own hours. Something he never seemed to be able to remind us enough about.
“I do work for myself you moron. I just also happen to have about twenty employees who work for me and expect me to be in the office. Including this idiot.” Kolbi flicked his thumb at me as I pulled on my shoes.
“?Qué chingados?? 1 ” I cursed at my friend. I rarely spoke Spanish as over the years I’d trained myself to keep it in my own head. The fear of being seen as different growing up had embedded itself into my brain. But my Mexican roots still came out from time to time around people I felt comfortable with. “You offered me the job. If you didn’t want us to know whether or not you were going to work on time you shouldn’t have hired me.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and flipped him the bird.
“I’ll see you fuckers in another week. Maybe sooner. We should grab a beer this weekend. Let’s post up and harass Malcolm at the bar on Saturday while he’s working,” Conrad suggested as we all spilled out of the house.
“I’m there,” I laughed. The thought of hanging out with my friends and giving Malcolm a hard time sounded fun. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until now.
“Oh good, I can’t wait for that.” Malcolm rolled his eyes as he got in his truck. He and Conrad pulled out of the driveway first and I watched from my bike as their headlights disappeared down the road.
“I’ll see ya tomorrow, brother.” Kolbi waved from the front porch.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I pulled on my helmet and popped up the kickstand as I inserted the key. Pushing the starter, my bike sprang to life as I flipped down the visor of my helmet.
As I backed out of the driveway and made my way down the road, I started to calculate the number of hours I had until I had to be awake again.
Four. More like three and a half because it was going to take me half an hour to get back to my apartment.
Three and a half hours until I have to be up again.
Three and a half hours until I get to see Bailey again.
1 ? What the fuck?