Close To You

Hey, guys. I hope everyone enjoys this story. I'm slowly working on three more projects I'll be submitting. Possibly six. Be patient with me and enjoy this in the mean-time while you wait. I haven't forgotten about Satana or Requin. Leave me a comment letting me know what you think.

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When I was a little kid I used to play in the park all the time. I love all of the equipment, but my favorite piece of playground equipment that the park had, which was becoming increasingly rare, even back then, was the ever so magical merry-go-round. Well, one day on a Saturday when my mother was off from work, she took me to the park early before most of the other kids got there, and before traffic got too bad.

There was two girls there; a pretty little thing named Amélie Anderson, and an even more beautiful angel named Jessica Anderson who was her sister, and was years older. Amélie was about six, and, at the time of our meeting was a brunette, while her Jessica was already starting to go blond.

Both were a good few years old than me. I don't remember exactly how old I was at the time, but I remembered, at least, Amélie was six, and Jessica was already ten.

Well. Even though I was severely younger than Jessica, she was my first real crush, even as young as I was.

But I was just a little brat. I wasn't big enough to wander around on my own, I wasn't big enough to ride without tricycles, and I sure as heck wasn't old enough to date or know what love was.

I think she knew though. Or, rather, I KNEW, that she knew. How did I know? Well, I actually kissed her once on my fourth birthday. Jessica didn't return the same kiss, but did treat me to a kiss on the cheek.

But that single kiss would stay with me forever, my first kiss. I'd always remember how soft and creamy her lips felt, how warm they were, how her breath smelled so sweet that it made me think of candy, and how she smiled so angelically with her lips curving upward over her flawless, perfectly, porcelain white teeth when her lips left mine.

Around the time Mrs. Lake got pregnant the second time, which was around Jessica's twenty first birthday, tragedy struck the Lake family: Amélie was struck by a car while playing a game of catch with a few of the neighbors kids and rushed out into the street after the ball because the kid wouldn't shut up about it. They tried to rush her to the hospital, but by the time that they did get her there, it was already too late, and Amélie died.

She had been through countless relationships over the years, because in truth, Jessica was a helpless romantic at heart who just wanted to find the knight in shinning armor that she was destined to spend the rest of her life with. But no matter how hard she searched, no matter how many men that Jessica dated, it never seemed to really work out and she always ended up getting hurt...And every time she did, I fell into an uncontrollable rage wanting to kill whoever hurt her.

She was about to give up, but she had met Johnny Gaston when she hit seventeen. Things went smoothly between them and they were a perfect fit for each other; he never hurt her, they argued and fought, yes, but Johnny never hurt her and treated her how she deserved.

She was trying to move out of her parents' house, but was currently stuck at home living with them because she and Johnny couldn't seem to bring in enough money together. But on the plus side she got to watch as Amy grew up and walk and talk.

It was about 9 o'clock and I was heading home from my job...Which I didn't really enjoy that much. I was actually a janitor for Ripley's Supermarket. Lately it started to seem like the bathrooms were getting more disgusting and unsanitary the more I worked, with rancid diarrheal that smelled like someone had ten helpings of beans and broccoli, and things were only mad worse with blood splattered all over the toilets, floors and walls of the women's bathroom, making it look like a damn murder scene.

Sick bastards.

My phone started to ring in my pocket, but because I had more sense than most young kids, I decided to just leave it in my pocket until I hit a stoplight, which, conveniently I came to a stop to just by the fourth time 'Never Gonna Give You Up' played on my phone.

I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone up, saw it was Amy, and answered it, bringing the phone up to my ear while I watched the stoplight and waited for it to change colors.

"Amy, what's wrong?"

She said something about going out for a few milkshakes with some friends, and had thought of me, wondering if I wanted to tag along and hang out with them

"Milkshakes?" I laughed. "Sure! That'd be fine. Okay, I'll drop by after I get home and change."

I hit the end call button and just as I started to put my phone back into my rear pocket, the light turned green. I waited till a few cars drove ahead and then I resumed my drive back home.

I always found something really enchanting about the night, so I always looked forward to leaving at night and setting off on the road with the stars and pale moonlight shinning down. There was just something really cool about the night. At least I'd be seeing more of it than usual since I'd be going to hang out with Amy and her friends for a few hours.

I lived in a small town that was build around 1903. Many of the old buildings were never torn down, they were closed up, but weren't destroyed and were left as a reminder of the history that the town had.

A few of the stores were still in business, though that was only a few.

I noticed that the gas gauge was nearly empty, so I pulled up to the nearest gas station which was the last surviving gas station that was around since the town was built. Turning my Toyota off, I opened the door and stepped out, locking the car behind me before walking towards the entrance of the station. The gas station was pretty old; something you'd see from a ghost town. The building was made out of brick and the bricks were quite weathered along with one of the old gas pumps. There was a big sign on the building written in red bold print that said: 'Richford General Gasoline.'

The only thing that had really been changed about the store was that one of the old gas pumps was removed to make way for a modern one; but the actual inside of the store had taken upon a more modern appearance.

I noticed once I was inside that there was no one behind the counter. That was odd; I thought. But then I figured maybe the clerk was in the bathroom or something.

But soon I noticed a rather burly looking black male walking in, and walking towards me with a rather unfriendly look in his eyes.

He was about six foot two and he was dressed in all black; wearing a black tank top, black do-rag, and baggy pants that I only hoped weren't falling so low they showed off his ass, and wearing a gold chain around his neck and a few gold rings on his left hand.

I turned away.

I was taught not to make eye contact with shady looking people, because it could start something, but even though I had turned away, I could still hear the sound of his boots hitting the floor and growing in sound; signifying that he was getting uncomfortably closer to me.

Finally the footsteps stopped, and I slowly, very slowly, turned around to look back straight ahead of me, and there, standing right in front of me, staring at me with an uncomfortable glint in his dark brown eyes, was the same African American.

"I'm getting real tired of your brother's shit, cracka! Tell him to stop fucking around, and watch his bitch ass back!"

"I don't want any trouble."

"Well, you got it, cracka!"

"Just leave." I said.

"Fuck YOU!" He grabbed me.

He slammed me hard over the counter and pushed me against it, and upon impact with it, I cried out.

The taller black male pulled me away from the counter, then threw me forward, only to walk towards me pull me up to his face, and brought his right hand towards me, punching me over, and over, and over again in the face without mercy.

"Tired of you honkies runnin' round here actin' like you own the place. Maybe I should send your brother a message.." He showed me his golden grills while he smiled.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade knife, popped the blade up, and brought it towards my face. I heard a voice directing us, or him, rather, and when the both of us turned to see who it was, it was the elderly old clerk who I had seen ever since I was three.

"Break it up." The white-haired clerk spoke, fearlessly.

"Go fuck yourself, you old wrinkly honkie!" The gangster said; staring intimidatingly at the clerk.

But then the clerk went behind the counter, and while the black make started to push the blade against my neck, the clerk once again interrupted him. When the taller gangster turned to look back at the clerk again, all movement from him seemed to freeze in place when he saw the clerk was holding a shotgun in his hands; pointing it at the troublemaker.

"You let that boy go."

"And if I don't?"

"Then, I'll blow your brains out." The clerk said; his voice serious with no hint of bluff.

"Fuck this shit." Murmured the gangster.

The gangster got off of me, put his knife away, and as he started to walk away, turned to me, pointed his right index finger at me, make a menacing face, and then turned back around and walked out of the store.

"Are you all right" he asked.

"I'm fine." I rose to my feet.

"Who was that?" He asked.

"Tyrone James." I dusted myself off and sighed.

"He seemed pretty hostile towards you. Do you two have any beef with each other? He seemed like he knew you."

"You could say that." I evaded his question.

After being given a few things from the kindhearted clerk to calm down the swelling that would surely follow on my let eye and lower bottom left lip, I walked away from the checkout and slowly went over the racks of the store deciding I may as well snag something to eat on the way home until I could get some real food to satisfy me. My obvious choice was a fun-size bag of Ruffles Cheddar Sour Cream and Onion, a bag of Jack Links Peppered Beef Jerky and a throwback Pepsi made with real sugar.

Once I had put everything on the counter, I paid for it, took it too the car, refilled my car up and left after having a brief conversation with the clerk.

When I hit another stoplight, I popped open my Pepsi and bag of chips, and as of I hadn't eaten for five months, started to pig out, taking a handful of chips and stuffing my face with my hand and crunching and chewing all of the chips at once while my hand gently slapped against the steering wheel like it was a drum.

I was starting to have second thoughts on going to see Amy, now, because I didn't want her or Jessica to see I got whooped.

"Damn it, Jacky," I shook my head. "When is this white supremacist crap gonna stop?"

I really did love my older brother. Heck, I'd gladly die for him if it meant him staying safe. But this 'Hail HITLER!' Nonsense was getting way too out of hand and was really getting him into trouble. But not just him, I was nearly killed, and would have been, if the clerk hadn't stepped in with that shotgun.

It was pretty hard to believe that such a small town with such a cheerful, happy demeanor to it, could still hold such bad seeds. It was true Landersen was a pretty calm town for the most part, and crime was pretty rare as was with most small towns, but it seemed like Jacky had found the town's secret underbelly and let his views go to his head.

It wasn't a great feeling; waking up everyday, wondering where the wannabe badasses where hiding and waiting to jump you and gun you down.

Jacky already a few run-ins with trouble. He never shot anyone, but I think this was mostly because he never had that close of a chance and something always seemed to stop him or get in his way.

Thirty seven years old and Jacky was still like a misguided teenager who had yet to truly find himself. Or maybe it was the other way around and he lost himself, unable to find himself again.

I reached my hand down and took another handful of potato chip. My hand was no longer slapping the steering wheel but instead tapping against it in rhyme to the classic glam rock music that was bursting through the speakers.

Once the bag was about half empty and my Pepsi was nearly gone, the light turned red and I continued back on my way home, driving down 24th Street and driving through a a meadow of big, shady trees.

When I finally made it to my house, I sighed in relief and finished my bag of chips and my can of Pepsi, but decided to save my bag of Jack Links for my next day of work.

"Home sweet home." I smiled to myself.

I turned the car off, unlocked my door and stepped out of the car.

My house wasn't that big. It was a typical small house, a country house, that was slightly rectangular, with a maroon roof and a flower garden right in front and a medium sized tree located right in our small front yard.

My parents were wanting to move into this really nice looking, two story red brick house that had four bedrooms, and they were ready to buy it when suddenly the bills piled up so bad that idea had to be abandoned.

I myself was working on getting out of the house. I just needed to save up a little more money for my apartment. I knew it'd be hard to survive on my own, I mean, it wasn't like back in the day when my dad was a teenager, things were harder now.

But I refused to continue living with them; not because I hated them or they got on my nerves, but because I felt like I needed my own place. Then I'd be happier with myself.

Walking towards the rectangular, tan brick house, I stopped at the screen door, and unlocked it with one key, then unlocked the aged wooden that was behind it and swung it open as well, walked inside, and closed the wooden door behind me once I had closed the old screen door first.

Once I was inside I stopped when I heard carousing coming from the living room which was only moments away from me and the small hall I was standing at by the door. I shook my head at this; already knowing who all it was, and headed into the living room.

"Cole!" Four voices greeted me.

I stopped once I was in the living room and what, or who, rather, I saw was exactly who I knew it would he. Jacky was sitting on the couch and his two friends, Benny and Howard were sitting right besides him with a bottle of beer in their laps and a few bottles strewn out on the ground leaving behind a rather disgusting mess.

Jacky was about the tallest out of the three, and was even taller than me. He was about five foot eleven, while Benny was five foot eight, and Howard was five foot nine. All three of them had their heads shaved, but Jacky had a long goatee, while his other two pals didn't. Jacky had the same colored eyes as me; dark brown, and his hair was the same dark brown as mine, as well. Each of them had on white wife-beaters, and, if they ever had their shirts off, you'd see the Nazi swastika on their abs. Jacky himself had an additional swastika and this one was smaller and tattooed onto his right shoulder.

"Cole, what happened to your face?" Jacky quickly rose from the couch.

"It's nothing." I lied.

"It doesn't look like nothing."

"Jacky, I'm fine." I turned away.

"Cole, turn around." He said.

I did as he commanded and turned to face him, and when I did, Jacky leaned his face closer to mine and took note of my swollen eye and lip.

His lips started to curl while his face hardened.

"Who did this to you?" He demanded.

"I slipped and fell."

"Bullshit!" He threw his beer.

"Jacky, it's fine." I continued.

"Who hit you?" He grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me.

At this point I was startled.

"It was Tyrone!" I quickly blurted.

"What?" His face grew more fierce. "That darky piece of shit? I'll kill that fucker!"

"Jacky! No." I tried to get through to him despite him obviously madding up his mind.

"Getting tired of these niggas thinking they run this shit! Come on, you two!"

Though I'd never seen Jacky kill anyone, I had seen his pistol plenty of times when he had attempted to shoot someone, and I knew Benny and Howard carried arms of their own as well.

As I stood there and tried to think up a way to talk Jacky out of this stupid mistake he was making, Jacky and his boys left and just as thought I finally had an idea, and raced out of the house, through the doors they left unlocked, Jacky and his boys were already in his 1983 Ford F150, with him driving, and Benny and Howard in the bed of the truck, screaming and chanting like lunatics.

I ran after the truck, but as I tried to chase it, I realized that it was moving too fast for me to possibly catch up to it.

"JACKY!" I shouted at him.

"See ya later, dude! We're off to kill us some darkies!" Howard roared in unrestraint laughter.

"JACKY! Stop it, come back."

The truck drove off while I stood in the middle of the street gripping my head from the sides and clamped my teeth together, only to let them loose and let out a frustrated yell.

"Damn it, Jacky. What the hell are you doing?"

I watched as the truck got farther away, but I soon heard the sound of another vehicle coming and narrowly got out of the path of a 1998 Red Mustang that was blazing towards me.

"Damn it!" I strained my face.

There was nothing I could do now, not at this point, at least. Jacky had already made up his mind and I could only hope he used 'I'll kill that fucker' loosely and wasn't going to literally take on Tyrone and try to blow him away.

"What's he thinking?" I asked myself out loud while I got on the sidewalk. "He should have at least took more of his Neo Nazi buddies if he was going after Tyrone."

Had Jacky lost it? Did this Neo Nazism garbage really go to his head? How could he have changed all these years and turn into this?

I returned home and sat on my waterbed with my hands folded into prayer flotation over my lips.

What was I to do? I could go after him and maybe try to talk some sense into him...But then, Jacky wouldn't listen because I knew how he was, and when it came to something like this, it was impossible to change Jacky's mind.

I made a decision to go after him and follow him, but right as I did, I heard 'Never Gonna Give You Up' playing on my phone and I reached into my pocket.

"Jacky." I whispered, relieved.

But then, when I did answer the phone, Jacky wasn't calling to tell me he changed his mind, but, rather, that he knew I was going to try and follow him to stop him, and not to try it, because even if I did, he wouldn't listen.

That was it. I couldn't stop this. All I could do was accept I jacked up and now, because of me spilling the identity of my assailant, someone was most likely going to end up dying. I was only hoping it wouldn't be Jacky.

I sat quietly in despair as the clock ticked away, but, then, I decided, that if I couldn't stop the crap that was going to go down between the skinheads and gang members, that I may as well do something to take my mind off everything.

I decided to get ready for the evening with Amy and her friends.

I took off my blue janitor outfit and wandered towards my closet in my gray boxers and pulled out a plain, white short-sleeve T along with a pair of black jeans that were worn out around the knees and ankles. I never was one who cared about how people judged my clothing choices, and just wore or dressed how I wanted. The last thing I grabbed was a black denim jacket and a pair of all-black high top Adidas.

Lastly was my socks. My rings could wait until I had taken my shower.

I sat all of my clothes on the bed and grabbed a fresh pair of red boxers and sat them on my bed along with the rest of my clothes.

I took a short shower and once I was done re-brushed my teeth, put on some deodorant and styled my short, dark brown hair into spikes and sprayed a little hairspray and then left the bathroom heading back to my bedroom to get my clothes.