O’Neals

Yas Morgen was taking me to this new bar in Little Tokyo. It was called O’Neal’s. Two dollars pints, one dollar calamari, and no one in the joint. All things that I liked when it came to my drinking.

We’d met up at Jaycie’s Cafe to watch some performances. There were these two twins who took turns telling a story about their mother. One word each, back and forth between the two. It was actually interesting. To see the kind of connection they had with each other. To be able to tell a story in that way. And for it to be understandable to the crowd. The story sucked, but the way they did it was interesting.

The Cafe usually ended around 9:30pm. It was held every Tuesday. O’Neal’s two dollar pint deals started at 10:00pm and ended until they closed at 2:00am. O’Neal’s was located on 1st and Central, one block away from the Cafe. Yas figured we’d smoke cigarettes for 30 minutes and then get to drinking.

So we stood on the sidewalk watching out watches, waiting for the minute.

“Did you read the book?” Yas asked plainly.

“Yeah, man.” I said, exhaling a smoke tendril. “It was good.”

“I figured since you were from the Valley, you might understand a little more about what the author was talking about.” Yas said, lighting up his own cigarette. “COLDWATER CANYON. By Mickey Bailey.”

“I couldn’t put it down. The way he writes is really good.” I said. “It wasn’t like he was trying. He just put down words that were, well, appropriate. They made sense.”

“Yeah. He’s into BMX biking and shit like that.” Yas said, looking at his watch.

“Really? That’s crazy. A biker writer.” I joked. “Ya know, it’s cool that the contemporary writers are getting better.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Yas said. “There’s a lot of shit out there. A LOT of shit. Good to know there are a few good ones out there.”

We got quiet. Looked around. Saw random cars drive by. Noticed the stop light change from red to green. Looked at our watches. Lit up new cigarettes. And waited for the minute.

“Tom says he wants you to write some pieces for the group.” Yas said, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Something that we can all sink our teeth into.”

“Really?” I said, excited. “That’s fucking cool!”

“Yeah.” Yas said. “He likes your writing.”

I smiled, happy.

“Jaycie likes your writing.” Yas said. “She’s a good woman. Into weird shit, but still a good woman.”

I nodded my head.

“So what do you think about Tom cheating on her?” Yas asked, matter-of-factly.

I looked at him stunned. I gulped. I didn’t think anyone other than myself knew about Tom’s indiscretion in Rhode Island.

“Me, I could care less.” Yas said, yawning. “Tom is Tom. I’ve known the guy for a long time.”

I turned to him, weary about what he was going to say.

“Don’t worry, man. I know you’re tight with the guy.” Yas said. “I’m tight with him, too. I’m just saying I’ve known him for a long time. And that don’t surprise me. That’s all.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. I flicked my cigarette. Pulled out another one. Noticed the light change from green to red.

“Listen, Xavier. I’ve been in this group for a while. I’ve seen people come and go. I’ve seen people shine and dull.” Yas said, turning to me. “Tom is like a brother to me. So I’m not talking shit about the guy. All I’m saying to you, is that everyone is human. You, me, Mickey Bailey, even Tom. All human.”

I looked at my watch. It read 10:00pm. “It’s 10.” I said. “Let’s go get drunk.”

Yas shrugged his shoulders. “Cheers.”

And we walked into O’Neal’s, ordered a shitload of beer, and blacked out.