One - Naive

Since the sudden loss of his father, Jimmy and his mother just could not see eye to eye. It wasn't that they didn't love each other, they did. It was the person missing that changed the dynamics of the family forever. The loss left the eighteen year-old kid from the middle of nowhere lost and feeling abandoned.

To mask the pain, Jimmy tried to drink his memories into oblivion each night. While every morning was the sobering realization that was never going to be the answer. But it never kept him from trying, alternating cherry whiskey and bourbon every other night.

Magde had to be mother, father and bread winner for a son who was adrift in heartbreak. As a mother she realized she was losing him and in a moment when she couldn't bare to see him disintegrate any further, she told him to leave. Her loss was as hard to deal with as Jimmy's. Hard words were spoken. Doors slammed! The exit was swift.

As he stepped from the bus and onto the city sidewalk he knew life would never be the same. Jimmy left the pain of the last two years on the seat of the bus. He wanted to simply forget everything and just start over where no one knew him.

He needed a place to live, if he could find one. Jimmy arrived in 'hog town' at 11:15 in the morning with only a canvas backpack and whatever he jammed into it before running out the door. He took a dirty newspaper from the garbage can. He was not about to spend the precious little money he had on a newspaper.

He peeled the sticky coffee soaked outer layers away until the want ads and rentals pages remained. Seeing the rental prices made him begin to think this was a very bad idea. He gave himself until five o'clock to decide. That's when the greyhound returned to his town.

But what would he return to? There was nothing there but the memories he was running from. Besides he was sure he had a better use of thirty five bucks and sat on a concrete retaining wall circling rooms to rent. Just then a beat cop walk up to the wet-behind-the-ears teenager.

"Tell me, can you read?" Constable Belfries spoke with an attitude Jimmy did not appreciate.

Jimmy showed the officer the newspaper and a look on his face like what the hell are you talking about. Where Jimmy came from the officers knew everyone and everyone knew them.

"Not the newspaper, Wiseguy!" The constable pointed to the 'No Loitering' sign. "Can you read that?"

There was never a need for a sign where Jimmy came from. Besides, he would not have understood what it said. But he looked to amuse the officer and shrugged his shoulder.

"Still sitting there? Apparently you have never heard of me." Belfries just about had it with this kid. "Get up! Now!" He bellowed at the teenager who stood like he was called to attention.

"That is better!" Jimmy just pushed his buttons by his 'I don't give a damn' attitude. "You look like you are right from the goddamn farm, boy!"

Jimmy's left hand just made a fist. His father was training him to become a boxer and he learned he had a wicked left cross. But he continued to listen to the man who could ticket him, or worse, put him in jail to think about his attitude.

"Where, on God's green earth did you come from?" The constable continued his verbal assault on the kid. "A flannel shirt, corduroy pants, and shoes full of crap!" He was getting awful close to Jimmy's hot button now.

"The back forty, Constable Belly." Jimmy spoke slowly and sarcastically.

"Belfries! You dipshit!" Now both fuses were lit.

"Constable Belfries. The back forty, you know where dipshits like me hunt coons with old yeller." Jimmy pretended to chew gum and speak like a hillbilly. "Hey Pa, I got one!"

"You little piece of cow crap!" Constable Belfries reached for Jimmy who ducked his hand like it was a slow jab and he took off running. "You are just making it worse you little brat!"

Jimmy was now running scared, there was no way he wanted to get caught. He just wanted to start a new life and ten minutes off the bus a cop was busting his chops. He knew full well he pissed him off but as an eighteen year old nothing was ever his fault.

The constable enlisted help in getting the punk from out of town. As Jimmy approached another cop he had to duck again, now there were three chasing him like he just robbed a convenience store. He stretched his stride putting distance between himself and the three in pursuit and before long the crotch ripped out of his pants. He looked down at the widening rip then back up just as a fourth officer clothes lined him.

At the speed he was running his momentum sent his lower body flying through the air coming down on his backpack. His head was spared the contact with the sidewalk but the whiplash had him in pain. There was no sympathy for Jimmy, he was turned over and handcuffed.

The three other constables finally caught up to the one holding Jimmy. "I got him, Francis. I can't believe the little bastard is standing!" Constable Bracken was laughing at the teenager.

"What did he steal, Patty?" Bracken opened the canvas backpack to find clothes jammed inside without any organization. "There's nothing here. Why were you chasing the kid?"

"Because the piece of crap ran from me." Belfries snorted in response. "The little shit was mocking me. He lit my fuse, Frank!"

"Turn around, kid." Bracken released Jimmy.

"What the hell, Franky? We're taking this hillbilly in!" Belfries was adamant he was right and legally he was. "He was loitering, mocking me and he ran! The kid must have something to hide!"

"Yeah and he had three blocks on your fat ass. Without me you would have given up when you seen me. So he goes free, Franky." Bracken was the senior beat cop and Belfries was asked to let it go.

Constable Belfries leaned against a building trying to catch his breath and just above his head was a 'No Loitering' sign. "Hey, Patty?"

"Yeah what?" His hands on his knees panting like a dog on a hot summer day.

"Hey, Wiseguy. Look above your head, genius!" Bracken pointed. "Should I take you in?"

Constable Belfries relented and caught his breath. He stared at the kid who looked out of place and warned him. "Don't ever hang around my beat again. Or I will take you in for looking pathetic." He pointed to the ripped crotch in Jimmy's corduroy pants. Patty leaned in. "Got it?"

Frank bumped the kid to get him to talk. "Yeah, I got it." The man bumped him again. "Sir!"

That seemed to satisfy the pudgy constable from the King Street beat. "Okay. Fine. See you back at the 6th, Frank. Better hope we never meet again, Country." He turned to go but turned back to Frank. "I would've got him." Then headed back to being the King on King street.

There was no way Frank was going to entertain that thought. The kid just outran two other high school track stars and looked to be pulling away. "Yeah okay, Patty. See ya at the precinct." When Belfries was far enough away he added. "In your dreams, Pudge."

For the first time in two years Jimmy's mind was free from thinking of his father for two minutes and allowed himself the smallest of laughs.

"And what the hell are you laughing at, kid?" Frank turned to the country bumpkin.

Jimmy pointed to Belfries pants seam ripped from the belt loops to probably his crotch. But then he felt the breeze hit his crotch and his laugh faded. "You should tell him."

"Forget about Patty's ass. Where are you from, kid? Better question, where are you heading?" Constable Bracken had been on the beat longer than Jimmy had been alive. He knew when someone was new to the city.

"You wouldn't know the place, and I doubt it is big enough to be on a map, Sir." Jimmy looked at Frank.

"Okay, then where are you headed?" The constable had an ear for a lie, even a small one. It was his work. Now the kid did not feel like trouble but he was out of place.

"Uhhh, I was just." Jimmy had nothing and Frank knew it.

"Okay, I will tell you where you are heading. You are getting back on the Greyhound bus you came in on and back to your parents. The city is no place for the kid from a place that's not on a map." Frank was about to walk him back to the King street terminal.

"No! I am not going back! There's no one there. My dad died two years ago and my mom and I. Well, we are not talking. I am not going back. Arrest me!" Jimmy was not kidding! He would much rather be in prison than to return to that small town nobody cared about. He held his hands out for Frank.

"Get your hands down, kid." Frank knew he over used the word kid and if this one was going to stick around he wanted to know his name. "Kid? What the hell did your father call you?"

The teenager looked at Frank still reluctant to spit it out. He was going to lie. He was going to say Jack. He wanted to say Jack but it came out. "Jimmy."

Frank studied Jimmy before he decided the kid told him the truth. "Well Jimmy, if you are staying you need to change. Come with me."

The constable led the teenager to a clothing store, pulled the door open and talked to the owner. "Use the change room. You do have another pair of pants?"

"I think I stuck a pair in here." Jimmy opened the backpack and found a pair of jeans. Not his favorite. They were bell bottoms from the second hand store in his hometown. This was going be embarrassing but he changed.

Frank tried to hold back his laughter but it was just too comical. As he wiped the tears of laughter from his face he tried to apologize but it would never have been sincere.

Jimmy's face was red as a beet. "I think I will put on my ripped cords."

"Oh no you don't!" Frank fought back his laughter. "Thanks Stuart. I appreciate you letting the kid use the change room."

Out on the street their conversation continued but the constable knew the teenager had no place to live and no job. "So how old are you? Graduate high school?"

"Eighteen and I think they gave it to me. I fought so much they never wanted to see me again." Jimmy spoke as if the world just ate him up and swallowed him whole.

"Well...there will be no fighting. And no more running. Not here. There will always be someone stronger and faster. Lesson one. That one's free." Frank laughed. "But seriously." He looked at Jimmy. "None of that. Trust me, twenty years on this beat and I am tired of seeing kids get turned into gangsters. Can you be a good kid?"

"Tough to say." Jimmy looked at Frank. "I never had to be."

Frank did not like the sound of that response. "Hang on. Get in here." He pulled Jimmy into Angel's diner, pushed the teenager into a booth seat and pointed. "Stay!"

"Trouble, Frank?" The scruffy owner with a weeks worth of beard growth walked to the end of the counter.

"No. No trouble Angel. Get me a coffee and..." Frank looked at Jimmy. "Pop?"

"Coffee." The truth was, Jimmy thought pop was for the rich kids. He only had Kool Aid or Tang growing up and coffee tasted better than those.

"Huh. Two coffees, Angel." Frank shrugged thinking the kid would've had chosen pop. "I just have to use the phone, set us up, would ya?"

Angel made his way to the booth trying to measure up the young man who seemed to be forced into seat. The gravel in his voice was from years of smoking. It was like marbles clanking together when he spoke and Jimmy had to pay close attention to understand him. "Hungry kid?"

Jimmy thought he heard, 'hairy kid'. "Look who's talking." He muttered.

This confused Angel who shrugged and clanked the two coffees onto the scratched table top. He returned to his stool like a hawk awaiting more customers to walk through his dirty glass door.

Constable Bracken slipped into the booth and just began to talk. "Did you order? I am starving." He looked to the man perched on the stool. "Angel?I will have the mushroom burger, fries and extra gravy. Jimmy?"

Jimmy noticed the pie under the glass dome. "A slice of pie there." He just looked to the counter.

Frank frowned, "after. Angel make that two burgers."

"I can't afford burger, fries and a coffee. I don't have a job yet." Jimmy played with the spoon without looking at Frank.

"Yeah you do. I just got off the phone with my good for nothing brother in law. He has this record store in Cabbagetown he needs help stocking, sweeping. Nothing exciting but it'll keep you out of trouble."

Jimmy looked at Frank. "Still need a room to rent." Then it sank in, this would be the first night not sleeping in his own bed. Except the week in the hospital when he was eight with tonsillitis.

"Like a kid would have enough to rent a room. I know I am no genius but give me a little street cred here." Frankie was speaking but Jimmy did not understand.

"I have no idea what you just said." Jimmy was right off the bus and as green as the hay fields.

"He has a cell for those willing to scrape by. No TV, but it is a place to crash at night." Frank looked at Jimmy. "Well?" Then he smiled at the teenager.

"Beats going to the Greyhound station." Then something inside actually felt right for a change. He looked at Frank and grinned, "yeah, thanks Consta..." he was cut off.

"It's Frank. None of that Constable Bracken crap. Here's the address. You start when you get there." Frank smiled knowing he kept a kid off the street. "Angel? We"ll take the pie before the burgers!"