These Lonely Streets

Nightfall took over Camden quickly, and then the real fun began.

Night hours were always the most dangerous on the streets. All the gangs were out and anyone and everyone’s lives were at risk. Cops usually worked at their best during these hours, but we, as well as others, were able to evade them. Night hours meant the best drug hours; dealers hung in every secluded alley way that they knew they wouldn’t get caught in.

Randy and I shuffled down the sidewalk toward Buster’s, Randy’s happy-go-lucky personality shining its brightest to put me in a better mood. I was feeling alright, but I could have been happier for my first day back home. The stars twinkled beautifully against the jet black sky, not a cloud shutting out their beauty. It wasn’t a long walk for us, and Randy’s humor kept my mind elsewhere until we reached Buster’s apartment on the first floor of a complex a few streets down from mine.

Any of the gang’s apartments were like an open house, begging to be used by guests of all kinds. Need a nearby place to crash? Walk-ins welcomed. Randy and I invited ourselves into Buster’s to find him, Jaycee, and Goliath.

Naturally, I felt on edge seeing Goliath, and judging by the way he tensed, he felt the same, too.

“Hey,” Buster greeted, nodding in our direction.

“Cory, over here,” Jaycee called, motioning to the open spot next to her on the couch. Offering a small smile, I walked over and claimed the spot. Randy crashed into the recliner, running a hand though his brown hair and causing it to spike a bit. The room fell silent quickly, for only the real conversation could start when everyone arrived. The missing piece? James.

A pair of eyes rested on me, and I only noticed when I looked up. None other than Goliath was watching me, at which I gave him a weird look.

“What?” he mouthed.

I shook my head, but I wanted to scream questions at him. I thought that things would be good after our embrace first thing today, but I guess our tempers were proving my theory wrong. Goliath scowled and dropped his gaze onto his feet just as James barged into the apartment.

“I thought I saw Wes,” he announced. “False alarm, but I figured I’d share.”

Buster’s fists clenched tightly, but then quickly released to avoid spreading tension.

Ah, Wes. How could I forget all about him? Truth be told, I didn’t, and the thought of him mocked my thoughts everyday. He was the whole reason for the battles that took place between us and his gang.

Buster and Wes – the Griffin brothers. They grew up in harmony in Gloucester County where the resided in a small town. They were tight brothers; usually siblings were at each other’s throats ready to slaughter one another.

Little did they know, those fights would come to them in time.

Buster slowly broke away from his family, picked up smoking, and dealt drugs to people in Camden when he got the chance. Wes, being three years younger than Buster, naturally wanted to tag along with his big brother and become just like him. Was Buster going to let his little brother turn into the monstrosity he was becoming? Unlikely.

They had always had problems with their father, so to prove to Buster that he was ready for the gang life, Wes got control of a handgun and murdered their father. Their mother saw the entire catastrophe, which resulted in a bullet in her temple to help erase any evidence. Buster, with his fiery temper, beat Wes until he was spewing blood and dragged him to the police station in his broken stage.

However, it was anything but the end. Somehow Wes managed to escape the iron bars of prison, change his appearance, and form a gang of his own in Camden. The rivalry began there, and to this day it can not be settled.

“So I take it I missed a lot?” I asked. Buster’s tension seemed to strike a low point in all of us.

“Did you ever!” Randy exclaimed, but it was not joyous as I was used to hearing from him. It was . . . sinister.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“It started about a week or two after you left,” Buster began. “Small stuff at first. Taunts, challenges, you name it. We decided to ignore it all.”

“Worst decision we’ve ever made,” Goliath uttered quietly, regret filling his voice. Hey, at least he was speaking. I felt Jaycee flinch beside me.

Oh no. Not her . . .

“I was walking to my apartment one night. It wasn’t late, maybe around seven. I was jumped by Jake, Wes, and Bam. All the money I had on me? Stolen. My innocence? Taken,” Jaycee replied quietly.

My arms trembled from anger and sadness, but I didn’t express it otherwise.

“They thought that if they cut me up with enough drugs in my system and left me there, I would be dead in a good hour.”

“And that could have been the truth if Randy and James had not been in the area,” Buster added.

“We head the screaming and knew it sounded vaguely familiar,” James said.

“So that was that,” Buster quickly added. “Saved her, thank God, and we knew we had to retaliate for that.”

“A fight broke out about a week after. We invaded Wes’s side of town and tried to pick off as many members as we could with only our switchblades and bare fists,” James said.

“Are you alright so far?” Buster asked with a faint hint of a smirk.

“Um, not really,” I replied. God, what I wouldn’t give for a good drag or beer at this moment.

“Well, it’s not over.”

Oh, great.

“There were a few standoffs from time to time, a couple fist fights,” Buster paused, shooting Randy a look. Randy merely grinned and bit his lip to fight a laugh.

“Then things got personal again. Wes sent his members out to break into our apartments. The stole money, drugs, whatever they could find of value. Your apartment was raided, too, Cory, but we looked around and it doesn’t appear that they took much. All your stuff must be pretty well hidden,” Buster said.

I nodded in response, but nothing more. Was that why they had cleaned up my apartment?

“That pretty much wraps up all the details, though. Your suffering is through for the moment,” Buster said.

“For now, yeah,” I said. I turned to Jaycee and hugged her tightly. Her story got my blood boiling the most out of all of it. I knew how it felt to stand where she stood, to have someone invade you and kill your trust for anyone. Jaycee didn’t really react, at which I frowned, but I quickly turned my attention onto Randy to push the thoughts away.

Although, my new thoughts were one I was sworn off from allowing.

Randy precariously set down a case of Heineken on the coffee table that he had gotten from the kitchen. Immediately, Buster reached over and socked him in the arm. Even Goliath looked like he was going to stand up and kick Randy’s ass.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?” Randy yelled.

“Do you not realize who is in this room?” Goliath retorted.

The way Randy’s eyes brightened depicted that he was going to shoot back some smartass comment, but he stopped when he realized the reality of the situation.

Me, the recovering addict.

“Oh,” he muttered ashamedly.

“Aw, c’mon, ease up,” I said as I reached across to grab a Heineken. James grabbed the entire case and yanked it away.

“Don’t even think about it, you little shit,” he threatened.

“Just one?” I pressed.

“Were you not listening at all today?” James asked. “You are not allowed to have this stuff. Hell, you shouldn’t even be near it.”

“Guys, I’m not going to relapse over one tiny Heineken, okay?”

“You clearly have never had a major relapse, have you, Cory?” Buster asked.

“No, bu-“

“Right, you haven’t. Let me fill you in. Your life will fall deeper into the shit hole you’ve already fallen in and most people don’t make it out the second time,” he snapped.

Normally I would have kept quiet, but the urge was killing me.

“Just one, Buster? Please? It’s not going to throw me off the wagon,” I said. Buster glared at me, but the sigh that followed permitted me to just one Heineken tonight.