Alfred F. Jones was already awake by the time his cellphone alarm went off. He reached a hand under his pillow and silenced the phone. That morning was particularly cold, and all the 19 year old wanted was a scalding shower. Unfortunately, that hot shower was a 10 minute drive away, 20 if you added the time it took to defrost Liberty.
Alfred lived in a van; an old, "I can't believe this thing is still running" sort of van that he had originally bought for $300 off craigslist. At the time, it wasn't working. For a little bit of pocket change, he extracted a working transmission from another dead vehicle... and voila! Alfred had somehow managed to keep the van running for over a year now, with only a few hiccups along the way. He was proud of his franken-van which he had lovingly nicknamed Liberty.
His dog, Tony, shifted under the covers. Tony moved his head to rest on Alfred's body as if to say, "Don't move! I'm comfortable!" Alfred scratched behind Tony's ears.
"Sorry boy... we gotta get up."
Tony whined.
"I know! It sucks!" Alfred rolled over and wrapped his arms around the surprised dog and pulled him into a tight squeeze. "Someday, we're gonna live like kings."
Alfred sucked in a deep breath and quickly tossed the mountain of blankets to the side, exposing both of them to the dangerous early morning chill. He let go a string of curses as he fumbled his way to the driver's seat, turning the keys in the ignition. Liberty hesitated, engine refusing to work.
"Come on baby..." Al twisted the keys again and pumped the breaks, this time, Liberty sputtered on.
It hadn't snowed overnight, but the windows were caked in ice, both inside and out. Inside, because of condensation from his breath. It was fine. The frost created a wall of privacy at night that gave him slight peace of mind.
Al pulled on his gloves, grabbed his ice scraper, and hurried out of Liberty into the freezing hell of January. He chisled away at the ice as quickly as possibly. He had parked overnight at an apartment complex, right in front of a sign that clearly stated "Resident Parking Only". Alfred had reasoned that if the residents expected the parking lot to be for residents only, they would certainly never suspect anyone SLEEPING there. Genius.
A violent shiver crept though his body, and the crisp air stung his nose, forcing Al to hold in a sneeze. Liberty had way too many windows, so Al had resigned himself to only scraping away ice at the most important spots. His boots crunched over the snow as he hurried to the back of Liberty. Al could feel his feet slipping out from under him. Without thought, he threw out his hand trying to catch himself on the van, but instead, his weight pushed him into the van, jamming his hand underneath his body. A jeering pain shot though his knees as he landed hard on the ice.
Al laid on his stomach in shock. He stared at the dirty ice underneath him, let out a breath, and propped himself up against Liberty.
"Pretty nasty fall there, Lad."
Al shot his head up to look for the strange, voice. An English accent? His blurry eyes struggled in the dim light.
"Are you okay?" The voice was low and even, but betrayed a hint of concern. Alfred looked up to the second floor of the apartments. There, a smallish man stood on the balcony, leaning forward into the rail with his weight placed on his forearms. A freshly lit cigarette hung loosely from between his fingers.
"Oh yeah... I'm fine. Just a little shocked, is all." Alfred stood, his pride a little wounded. Al reached forward to pick up the ice scraper that he had dropped earlier and continued to scrape away the ice off Liberty, moving awkward and almost robotic knowing that someone was watching him. The man stood silently on the balcony, staring at him, taking an occasional drag of his cigarette, the polluted scent, of which, had finally snaked its way down to Alfred.
Finally, the man on the balcony scraped his unfinished cigarette against the wet wood of his balcony before sticking it carefully into a small pile of snow by his feet.
"Are you a resident here?"
Alfred froze, clutching his ice scraper. God, had this guy seen him getting out of his van? Did he know that Alfred was homeless and sleeping in a vehicle? Panic set in as Alfred constructed an assortment of lies in his mind.
"Actually," Alfred coughed, "Yeah... just moved here recently."
For a fleeting second, the man's eyes lifted before dropping down into their previous lazy position. Alfred tried to read the man's expression, but... he was never very good at reading the atmosphere.
"Well," Alfred forced a friendly smile, "it was nice meeting you. Hope to see you around!" Alfred called for Tony who quickly hopped into the van. Without wasting any time, Alfred rolled the defrosted van slowly out of the apartment parking lot, and as he looked into his rearview mirror, he just barely caught a glimpse of the strange man pushing all his weight onto one arm and easily jumping off the second floor balcony to the iced concrete below.
.-.-.
As much as Alfred loved Liberty, she could be hella trouble to deal with in the city with the lack of parking. Al had parked Liberty several blocks away and walked to his usual street corner, guitar case strapped to his back. Tony (wearing a doggie sweater to cope with the cold) followed behind, taking his sweet time to sniff passing lightpoles.
Alfred usually could earn a good couple bucks during the day for his playing, but he felt he could have earned more if only he could sing well. But, Alfred was not born with that particular talent. Still, Alfred wasn't shy by any means, and he was never one to back down, even with people screaming things like "you suck".
Alfred began playing, his fingers automatically moving across the strings. He would look up and smile whenever someone tossed in their spare change or a dollar, grateful for anything (although he definitely appreciated the dollars more). Sometimes, a small audience would form around him, usually tourists who were unaccustomed to seeing street musicians. Alfred loved it. He soaked in the attention like a dry sponge, hungry for moisture.
After a while, his fingers began to grow numb from the frigid winter's air. Even the steam from the laundry exhaust pipe he sat under could only provide so much warmth. He needed a break badly. Al finished his last song, and then reached down into his case to pull out the money he had earned, hoping he'd have enough for lunch, and maybe a little gas. He was kneeling on the ground, counting the money as he put the dollars into a short stack... an amazing $13. Alfred pocketed the bills and set the guitar into the case. Before he could shut the lid, however, a folded $10 bill clumsily dropped onto the guitar. Alfred blinked and looked up.
"Don't quit your day job."
"Mattie. What're you doing here?" Al grabbed the $10 and stuffed it into his pocket, shutting the lid to the guitar case, and snapping the locks.
"Looking for you, of course. You haven't been answering my texts lately."
"No, I mean... don't you have class or something?" Al stood, pulling the strap to the guitar case over his shoulder, and worked the strap until the case was on his back.
"I've got a little time before my next class." Matthew reached down to pet Tony. "I thought maybe we could get lunch?"
"Sounds good." Alfred grinned. "You're paying."
"What? No way!" Matthew straightened up. "I just gave you $10."
"That was for my awesome guitar playing." Alfred chuckled.
"Oh please." Matthew huffed, crossing his arms. "You aren't at a $10 level. Maybe... 10 cents."
"Hahaha, you know I'm worth at least a $20."
"Maybe... if you had huge boobs and a g-string on... and were dancing around a pole. And weren't a man. Or my brother." Al laughed and elbowed Matthew lightly.
The 12th Street Cafe served both pancakes and burgers. And, the food was good. And cheap. And usually the waitresses were cute as hell. Usually.
Alfred and Matthew stood in entry way of the cafe. Matthew pulled his heavy parka off and held the bulk of fabric over his arm. Alfred stood in front of the hostess counter, glancing around the room for someone to seat them.
"I don't see Becky anywhere." Matthew walked up to Alfred. The restaurant didn't seem particularly busy, but besides the cooks that could be seen through the window, there wasn't any waitstaff to be seen.
"Maybe she has the day off?" Alfred shrugged his shoulders.
"She quit." A hand reached over the front counter, followed by a head of dark, brown hair. "I'ma gonna take her place." The man had a thick Italian accent. He stood, wiping his hands on his pants. His eyebrows furrowed, glaring up at the two brothers. "Whatta ya' want?"
"Ummm..." Matthew blinked, unsure. "Can we get a table for two?"
"A booth?" The host ignored Matthew.
"No, a table, please?"
"You'sa gonna get a booth." The host grabbed a menu and walked off without saying a word. Matthew looked at Alfred who shrugged again. The two boys sat down and the man handed Alfred a menu before walking off.
"Wait, can I get a menu please?" Matthew called after the man, but was promptly ignored.
"Haha, don't make him mad. He might spit in your food."
"Ugh, don't say that." Matthew leaned forward. "Besides, I think he's already mad."
"Mad mad, or crazy mad?"
"Both." Alfred pushed the menu to his brother, and got up to grab another menu from the host station.
Al could have eaten the menu. Everything looked so damned delicious. Matthew sat on the other side of the booth, looking at the menu with only a passive interest. Every once in a while, when Al wasn't paying attention, he would steal a glance at his brother and then quickly avert his eyes back to his menu.
Alfred leaned on one elbow, watching as a smiling boy smoothly glided across the floor to their table.
"Welcome to the 12th Street Cafe! My name is Feliciano, and I'ma gonna be your server today! What can I get you to drink?"
"Water, for both of us." Matthew closed his menu.
"Hey, I want a pepsi!"
"I'm paying for it. You're getting water."
"I'll have a pepsi." Alfred smiled at his brother. "I'll pay for that, at least." Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing he would have to foot the bill.
"Oh, you're brothers! How cool! I have a brother too! He'sa working at the host station." The cheery waiter smiled as he pulled his notepad out of his apron. "He's a dick."
Alfred burst into laughter.
"Do you know what you'd like to order?" The Italian looked at Alfred thoughtfully. "The pasta is really nice."
"Actually, I'd like the bacon double cheeseburger. With fries." Al handed his menu to the waiter who looked disappointed.
"Oh, that's too bad. Maybe next time." Feliciano stuck his notepad back into his apron. "Okay, I'll be back with your pepsi." He walked away.
"Unbelievable." Matthew glared down at his menu. "He totally forgot about me."
"You gotta speak up, bro." Alfred laughed. "When he brings the drinks back you can tell him your order." Matthew pouted, looking away. When Feliciano brought Alfred's pepsi, he apologized profusely to Matthew, promising an extra pancake on top. After the mixup was taken care of, the brothers sat in relative quiet, before Alfred broke the awkward silence.
"I think I was caught this morning. Some dude saw me get out of Liberty." Alfred, of course, would leave out the part where he saw the mysterious man leap from the second story balcony. His tired, blurried eyes were probably just playing tricks on him anyway. Matthew, by now, knew what Liberty was by name. A frown creased the edge of Matthew's lips.
"Why haven't you been responding to my texts?"
Alfred took a long sip of his drink. "I dunno. Been busy, I guess."
"You guess?" Matthew crossed his arms and sat back in his seat.
"Look, Mattie... I'm not coming home."
"Al, you're so stubborn. I can't stand that you're living on the streets alone. Do you know how cold it was last night? 24 degrees. I was up all night worrying about you. I don't even understand what you're trying to accomplish."
"I'm not trying to accomplish anything. I can't explain it. Mattie, I just want to experience freedom for once."
"Then get an apartment with me."
"No, Mattie..." Alfred frowned, pushing his glass away. "I know what I'm doing."
"But I don't know what you're doing. Don't you ever consider me?"
"It's not about you, Mattie." Matthew balled his hands into fists.
"You're so selfish, Alfred. I can't believe you're this stupid!"
"I'm not stupid. You just don't get it."
"No, I get it. Al, you can do better than this." Matthew reached to grab Alfred's hands, but Alfred pulled his hands away and broke eye contact.
"So, you think I'm a loser. Just like Dad."
"No, Al... that's not what I'm saying."
"..."
"Al..."
"..."
"Alfred..."
"..." Al sipped at his pepsi, ignoring his brother. He stared out the window, watching Tony who was peeing on someone's shoulder bag that had been left sitting on the ground.
"Alright. I get it." Matthew pushed himself out of the booth and stood, grabbing his coat. "I've got to go to class." Matthew set a $20 on the table. "You know you can always come home." Matthew sighed and walked away, stealing one last glance at his brother before walking out of the restaurant.
"Oh, fighting is no good." The waiter broke Alfred out of his gloom as he set down the plates of food.
"Thanks..." Alfred stared at his burger, no longer hungry.
.-.-.
Contrary to Alfred's outgoing personality, he was actually quite skilled at keeping himself out of sight when it came to his alternative living arrangement. He never parked his van in the same location two nights in a row, and he made it a habit to randomly switch his parking stops at night. Apartment complexes and motels were his favorite locations. Very occasionally, he would park at a Walmart or on a suburban residential street. But, this wasn't to say that Alfred didn't have his favorite spots that he frequented more often than others. The apartment complex he had been caught at this morning had been one of his favorite spots. So, when Alfred decided he couldn't return to one of his favorite spots ever again or else risk being caught by the police, a slight emptiness flooded through his mind before he shook off the silly feeling to think of where he would sleep tonight. The Americana Sleep Inn was a medium size motel that attracted a lot of people with its cheap rates. This was his favorite spot to sleep in the city. Partly because of the parking spaces that concealed his van's interior from sight, and partly... well... partly because he just loved anything with the name America in it.
That night, Alfred slept lightly. His awkward conversation with the strange British guy... his fight with his brother... everything just felt unsettling. He couldn't even tell you why. Maybe, Alfred figured, his life had gotten so complacent and boring that his mind was latching onto anything and warping it into a drama.
Tony snored, curled into a ball at Alfred's feet. Alfred rubbed his sleepy, burning eyes. The van felt suffocating, and he needed to pee. Well, any excuse to get out of the van would work. Alfred sat up slowly so he wouldn't disturb Tony. Because of the cold, Alfred always slept in his hat and coat, so he only needed to pull on his boots before he opened the side door to the van and crept out.
"Oh, you're up." A familiar English accent bolted Alfred into place. Alfred slowly turned his head to face the man from the balcony at the apartment. The man was sitting, leaning back into the side of the motel wall.
Alfred stared at the man, his eyes locked in disbelief, his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
The man stood gracefully and sauntered over to the stunned boy. The man was shorter than Alfred. Much smaller. But, this didn't seem to stop the man from his confident, catlike approach.
"Dude, what's your problem?" Alfred's body tightened.
"My problem?" He continued to step forward. "My current problem, Dear Boy... is what to do with you."
A/N: Thanks for reading Chapter One! Please don't forget to leave a comment!
