Brooklyn Boy

It was cold outside as he slammed the door shut behind him. He could hear it echo into the night as he slipped on his sweatshirt and walked fast paced down the street. He had a small mind of where he was going, just as long as it was far from here.

Bad night to have his truck in the shop; he could be twice as far now then where he was.

Bad week to get a hair cut too. He ran a hand through the blondish centimeter and a half long stubble that covered his scalp. Too hot blooded to shiver and too cold to speak- even to himself.

He walked in silence.

A thousand things ran through his head at one time, second after second brought new thoughts. White puffs of exhalation came from his mouth as he breathed. He pulled the hood over his bare head. Rubbing his hands together, he looked up and down the street before jaywalking across it, cutting into a narrow alley that led to the back of an old apartment building.

Jumping up at least a foot, he showed an enormous amount of upper-body strength by grabbing ahold of the fire escape ladder and pulling himself up. At first, he just hung by his arms, pulling himself up rung by rung until his knees were able to reach the bottom rung to hoist him up more. Silently, he made his way up the escape, making sure not to knock anything over or cause a disturbance.

Once at the top, he sat near the ledge, no one would know that he was here. His cell phone rang in his pocket. He dug it out and flipped it open, knowing from the number exactly who it was. "Piss off, Jack," he said strongly into the phone, his misplaced New Yorker accent flaring more than usual. That was him, the New Yorker in Northern California.

"Gio," he heard as he flipped it closed.

The caller called back a second time, this time leaving a message when he chose not to answer. He sat staring at the phone, now resting on the ledge. After a second thought, he snatched up the phone to listen to the message. He got up and paced as it began to play.
"Hey, Gio, it's Jack. Man, I'm sorry, Gio. I didn't know, alright? I didn't know who she was. I swear. I swear to you, Dominik, I didn't know who she was, and if I did, I swear, I woulda dropped her, man, come on. We've gotta sort things out," there was a pause, "I'll be waiting, Gio."

He erased the message, putting the phone back into his pocket. Before he had a second to sit and think about it, another call came in. This time, he hesitated to answer. "What?"

"Hey Gio," a female voice.

"Whaddya want with me?" he asked, still proclaiming his New York origin.

"You wanna talk about this?" she asked.

"There ain't nothin' to talk about. You got off with my best friend, knowin' that he was my best friend. Now it ain't anya my business if you wanna be like that or not, but when you go and screw with my life, you've crossed a line."

"Geez, Gio, I said sorry!"

"For your information, no, you didn't," he snapped. "And it really wouldn't help you if you did now, cuz you're nothin' to me either way."

"Don't you go callin' me a hussy!" she snapped back.

"You act like one! Whaddya wanna be called?!" he asked. "Cuz I c'n tell you one thing, hunny, I ain't never goin' back again. Been down one time, been down two times. Never goin' back again, sweetheart, so f'get about it!"

"I'm not asking you to come back," she said quietly.

"Then what are you asking?"

"I dunno, Gio, okay?!"

There was an eerie silence between them. He looked to the floor. "Then leave me be," he replied quietly after a while.

Another long pause followed. "Alright," she answered. "I'll leave you alone. But you do know that I'm sorry, right?"

"I'm more sorry than you," he said closing the phone.

He sighed and sat back down, putting the phone back in his pocked for the second time. After a while, he got up and made his way back down, cutting back down the alley and walking back across the street. His trip was slow and pensive, trying to figure out what to do. What to say.

He sat down on the front steps when he got there. Jack came out after a while. He sat down next to his friend and looked at their feet.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Gio," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm sure ya' are."

He looked into the black ahead of them, paying no regard to the hand on his shoulder.

"Leave it to a 'Brooklyn Boy' to be a skeptic," he joked, removing his hand."Yeah, well, maybe this 'Brooklyn Boy' better get himself back home." He looked sternly at Jack.

"I feel very alone in this, Jack." He looked back down.

"We'll get you another girl, you'll be alright," he said, looking back at him.

"I can get girls in Brooklyn, Jack." He looked back at him, "They're all the same, accent or not."

He looked down again, "I'm not lookin' for bodies anymore, J. I want more than a physical feeling, more than a physical attraction." He clutched to his shirt with the last comment. "I wanna girl who loves baseball as much as I do. That hates to watch a dropped game, that won't mind not doin' nuthin' on a Friday night. That likes me more for more than my accent, Jack, for more than my face." He looked him back in the eyes.

"Where do you expect to find a girl like that, Gio?" Jack asked.

He looked down, "I think I left her in Brooklyn."

"Call her," he replied, getting up and walking inside.

He sat there on the steps, looking at his cell phone. He had to do something.

After a few minutes of self-debate, he gave in. He called.

"Hey, Tony, Devin there?" he asked.

"Hey Gio, I thought you were in North Cal!" the man on the other end exclaimed.

"Yeah, I am," he answered.

"S'why you callin', man?" he asked.

"I need to tell Devin I forgot something."