Get Some
1/1
"You look cold, come 'ere."
I rolled my eyes and let out a laugh, scooting closer beside the wall towards the hunk of a man before me. My head rested against the abandoned store window. He flicked the fag between his fingers, letting the ashes fall to the dirty street floor before setting it against the ledge and draping his jacket over my shoulders.
Robbie Carmichael.
He was the kind of guy who gave you his leather jacket on a cold winter night. He was the kind of guy who would bum you his cigarette when the rest of the city lied through their teeth, holding tightly onto full packs through pockets claiming 'it was their last one'. He was the kind of guy you wanted to know because he had the connections that no one else did. Robbie got you what you wanted, when you wanted, at the quantity and quality you ask for.
Robbie was the kind of charmer that your father disapproved of and your mother touched herself at night to. He was the guy your kid brother idolized and followed around. Robbie was smart enough to influence kids in the right direction while at the same time did his dirty business without a soul knowing.
Robbie Carmichael was your old time greaser, mixed with a modern day thug. He made people believe that he didn't give a shit about anybody, but when it came down to it he'd have your back even if that meant he was going down with you. Robbie seemed careless, but with every action there was a reason. Robbie taught you a life lesson every time you hung around him, without even trying to. He was a smart kid, he had a head on his shoulders that was taking him places if street smarts could get anyone anywhere.
I swear, the boy could have been a model if he wanted to, or more so if society's version of 'skinny' wasn't a fucking size zero. He wasn't tiny like most of the guys we hung around. He didn't have that mussed up shaggy hair, or the chiseled chin, cheek bones, and abs that the Calvin Klein models did. No, he had full cheeks, bright blue eyes, and so much hair grease atop his head he could probably be a professional walking ad for the product itself.
He had tattoos from head to toe, and was always wearing some sort of flannel, sometimes the same one days at a time. Part of me was convinced the kid was homeless, and if he was, I'd sneak him into my closet in a heart beat. I'd do anything for him.
He was quiet, most of the time. On an off day, he'd talk and talk for hours about the corruption and horrors of the world or maybe whatever was troubling him but that was rare. He'd talk, and I'd listen because I knew he'd do the same for me.
In a world where everything goes to shit, where bad people prey on the innocent, where people lose faith and hope in each other... I was glad I had Robbie Carmichael. He was glad that he had me.
"Can I bum one?" Smoke escaped from his mouth. I watched him do a french inhale before reaching into his pants pocket to pull out his pack.
"Of course, m'lady." Robbie leaned down, the fag in the palm of his hand like a prince would do to ask the belle of the ball to dance. I grabbed it from him, placing it between my lips. Without having to ask he leaned over with his lighter, pressing the fire against the edge of the cigarette.
Inhale. Exhale.
"Thanks, Robbie."
I looked down, holding my arm letting my fingers graze against the leather. I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't care. Nothing mattered right now. After a couple moments he looked away and across the street, into the city. It was simple, but it sure as hell couldn't get any better than this.
I loved Robbie Carmichael, and he loved me.
I rolled my eyes and let out a laugh, scooting closer beside the wall towards the hunk of a man before me. My head rested against the abandoned store window. He flicked the fag between his fingers, letting the ashes fall to the dirty street floor before setting it against the ledge and draping his jacket over my shoulders.
Robbie Carmichael.
He was the kind of guy who gave you his leather jacket on a cold winter night. He was the kind of guy who would bum you his cigarette when the rest of the city lied through their teeth, holding tightly onto full packs through pockets claiming 'it was their last one'. He was the kind of guy you wanted to know because he had the connections that no one else did. Robbie got you what you wanted, when you wanted, at the quantity and quality you ask for.
Robbie was the kind of charmer that your father disapproved of and your mother touched herself at night to. He was the guy your kid brother idolized and followed around. Robbie was smart enough to influence kids in the right direction while at the same time did his dirty business without a soul knowing.
Robbie Carmichael was your old time greaser, mixed with a modern day thug. He made people believe that he didn't give a shit about anybody, but when it came down to it he'd have your back even if that meant he was going down with you. Robbie seemed careless, but with every action there was a reason. Robbie taught you a life lesson every time you hung around him, without even trying to. He was a smart kid, he had a head on his shoulders that was taking him places if street smarts could get anyone anywhere.
I swear, the boy could have been a model if he wanted to, or more so if society's version of 'skinny' wasn't a fucking size zero. He wasn't tiny like most of the guys we hung around. He didn't have that mussed up shaggy hair, or the chiseled chin, cheek bones, and abs that the Calvin Klein models did. No, he had full cheeks, bright blue eyes, and so much hair grease atop his head he could probably be a professional walking ad for the product itself.
He had tattoos from head to toe, and was always wearing some sort of flannel, sometimes the same one days at a time. Part of me was convinced the kid was homeless, and if he was, I'd sneak him into my closet in a heart beat. I'd do anything for him.
He was quiet, most of the time. On an off day, he'd talk and talk for hours about the corruption and horrors of the world or maybe whatever was troubling him but that was rare. He'd talk, and I'd listen because I knew he'd do the same for me.
In a world where everything goes to shit, where bad people prey on the innocent, where people lose faith and hope in each other... I was glad I had Robbie Carmichael. He was glad that he had me.
"Can I bum one?" Smoke escaped from his mouth. I watched him do a french inhale before reaching into his pants pocket to pull out his pack.
"Of course, m'lady." Robbie leaned down, the fag in the palm of his hand like a prince would do to ask the belle of the ball to dance. I grabbed it from him, placing it between my lips. Without having to ask he leaned over with his lighter, pressing the fire against the edge of the cigarette.
Inhale. Exhale.
"Thanks, Robbie."
I looked down, holding my arm letting my fingers graze against the leather. I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't care. Nothing mattered right now. After a couple moments he looked away and across the street, into the city. It was simple, but it sure as hell couldn't get any better than this.
I loved Robbie Carmichael, and he loved me.
♠ ♠ ♠
682 words.