by Nadine Darling

She won't go home with me because she's in love with Chipper Jones, and that's fine, right? Chipper Jones, an ugly (pug ugly, fugly) past MVP with a baby's mama from fucking Hooters (original) and he don't even play for this lousy city and is probably home right now wearing mink slippers and counting all his goddam money. She could have the decency to love Bonds, for the love of Christ, or that other jerk-ass from here. Whozits. Snow? Snow. What are the odds Chipper Jones will come here, will walk into this bar, and hit on some braceface little bodiqua who isn't even all that cute to begin with, and who I wouldn't even look twice at if I weren't such a desperate man. No one knows nothing about me here, and, you know, that's just fine. Right now I need this girl and I need a place to chill.

I could mess me up some Chipper Jones. Look at me. Please. This is all Oakland right here. This is all man repping Oaktown, and the East Bay, and the Golden Ghetto. This is Little Puerto Rico. This is something nobody's never seen before- a light, yo. This is hot and ordained and all up in your area and I got this heart that's full of stone, baby. I can't be stopped or contained. Please. Chipper Jones. This is roughneck, right here. Don't start nothing, won't be nothing.

Girl, I say.

I say, girl, I'm just trying to get next to you.

And she don't trust me when the truth is I'm a good man who knows the situation and adapts to it. Women understand this, usually. They pick that scent up like it's some primal shit or they're on their monthlies. The best ones do. The best ones lay the fuck down and surrender to it.

But this one's the other kind of girl, and I know all about that shit, too. She makes her eyes all rolled out like this; she makes that played out girl-sound all up with her tongue and her teeth- tssssssk!- like soda and snakes and popped tires. She is not so cute that she should be making that sound to me, and- I don't mean to be mean- she's got a big ass on her. A big-assed girl with braces is lucky to get play from me. I just got my GED, right? I'm not some fucking scrub from the block.

I try and hook her up with another drink but she don't want no other drink. Whatever, man.

The bar is called the Pendulum, on account of the freaks there swing both ways. I do not swing both ways, but if a girl did I would not hold that against her. I am all about tolerance- ask anyone.

I am a single man. I say this. Then I say it again because it is new and it feels so goddam good.

I say, You got a girl? My voice slips up high at the end, but only because I am a curious person. I am interested in the interests of others.

She looks at me.

It's cool, baby, I say. I don't hate on experimental shit.

I am good with women, right? Women trust me.

I'm not like that, she says.

Is your   girlfriend?

Girl wants to talk some yang-yang about Jones and his money and what a good guy he is. She's a virgin, she says. She's saving her shit for Chipper.

I say, Why you here, then?

Do I stink? My face is very hot. The Easy Jesus in my cup is like fucking gasoline, fucking Listerine. My fingers are smudged black, so is the front of my shirt.

I can't go home, she says, and I say, Me, neither.

She says her roommate has this dude there and the lucky bastard is making time.

I won't make no extra noise, I say.

I am pressing up fast; her back is to the bar and she's into me, man. She's mine.

I say, I can't go home, neither.

I can hear my heart. It's a motherfucking riot; it's trying to kick its way out. And she looks at me that way, that same way, and she's seeing me.

She touches the corner of her mouth and says, You're bleeding.

Here is why I can't go home: because I set my house on fire. Because it's all black and crooked and falling the fuck over dead in the middle of my block like a burnt dinner. It was a situation, and I handled it. There was some bullshit but I handled it. I am good with women. Women trust me.

Baby, I say.

Sweetness, I say. I say that I know Chipper Jones and we boys and we go way back. I lean forward.

I got a secret, I say.

I say, I got this heart that's full of stone, baby.

And I played ball in school.

And please. And please. And please.

The girl straightens her body out, like this. She's got her hand up, first over her chest and then over her mouth.

There are sirens, you know? There is this bright and terrible light. I set my drink down and I say, take me somewhere chill.

Take me somewhere, I say- not to the girl but to the room and the room is cold and no one knows me here, and, you know, that's just fine.

I played ball in school, I say.

My legs are gone now, you know, and they ain't under me and now I'm on the floor.

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