Danny stood in the shower, letting the cold water cascade against his face and down his chest. He had spent the better part of an hour vomiting into the sink, not sure if it could be blamed on his continuous hangover. At least I'm clean, he joked to himself, as this was his second shower in less than 24 hours. He realized the sadness of his joke and closed his eyes, concentrating on the icy water that he hoped possessed the power to wash away his pain.
"Come on, don't be such a bitch Alvarez."
"Yeah, if you pussy out I won't let you hear the end of it."
Two boys wearing jeans, white t shirts, and black Chuck Taylor hi-tops stood in the alleyway, playfully shoving a third boy against a back door.
"A bitch? Hah that's funny because I remember you, Robbie, crying your eyes out when you got your first slice." The third boy lifted up his white t-shirt to reveal a pink scar that ran across the bottom of his ribs. The other shook his head, let out a small gasp, and took a long drag on his cigarette.
"Alright, alright. You in, man?" Robbie lightly punched the boy and took a puff of his friend's cigarette before flicking it to the ground. All three boys walked out of the alleyway and stood in front of the liquor store, while a few drunks loitered out front, trying to beg change for a bottle of whiskey. The problem was that in this neighbourhood, no one had change to spare. Sirens could be heard in the distance while the three boys ran into the store and headed for the nearest bottle of booze.
"Grab it! Quick Danny!"
Danny swiped a bottle of Jack Daniels, dropped it under his t-shirt and turned to run. He felt a blow to the back of his head and two hands grasping his shoulders.
He turned and saw the store owner, a sneer on his face as he stared down at him, and his two friends running the hell down an alleyway and out of sight.
"Another kid from the slums. I'll be damned if you punks steal anything from me."
Danny watched as a police cruiser pulled into the parking lot, its siren reflected in his own fearful eyes.
Danny stepped out of the shower and dried the tears from his face. He didn't weep from his own troubled past, but the current troubles of the boy, Elian, in his building. He wanted to help so badly, but he remembered being a teenager, hating the world for what it had done to him. He became angry at himself for showing so much emotion, his anger moved to his own father, and then to the father or whoever was fucking Elian up.
He dressed into the same clothes as the day before and walked to the stairs to get his mail. He was sure there would only be bills to pay, but there was still a possibility that he would run into Elian.
So what if you do run into him? What the hell are you going to do, Danny. You can't save the entire fucking world, you know. That's not your job. The voice inside his head debated with him as he slowly descended the stairs, one step at a time.
He stood at the end of the hallway, as if hoping Elian would miraculously appear from his apartment. After standing there for a few minutes, he sighed and went to get his mail. When he reached the basement, he peered around the corner of the mail room to see if anyone was there. The room was abandoned, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled out his mailbox key and found only bills, a Chinese take-out menu, and some bullshit coupon for Macy's. He began to exit the room and kept his eyes on the mail when someone startled him.
"Don't you ever go to work?"
Danny turned around, surprised, and found a boy in the corner of the room, sitting at an old wooden table that was missing a leg.
He smiled, "I have the week off, what's your excuse?"
Elian gave a slight smirk back, "Don't need school man. I got all I need right here." He motioned to the mailroom, and Danny wasn't sure what the joke was.
He walked to the table and threw down his mail. "Have a seat sir, what can I help you with today?" Elian put his hands on his head and leaned back in his chair, and he recognized the same chip on his shoulder that Danny had carried throughout his teen years.
Danny sat down on one of the cracked chairs and surveyed this kid in front of him. His bare right arm revealed deep tracts that covered his wrist, and he could see the bottom of a black and red tattoo that was displayed on his left bicep.
"No thanks. What the hell are you doing with that shit anyways? How old are you?"
"Old enough to know this is more money than I would get going to school. Especially the dump I dropped out of."
Danny almost laughed, "You think this is a dump? You have no idea, brother. You couldn't even walk to the corner store to buy your mother some milk without getting sliced, even during the day. That's the kind of dump I come from."
Elian leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands on the table. His eyes were red but determinedly made contact with Danny's.
"No way. My old man's worse than any knife you can imagine." He lifted the sleeve of his torn navy t-shirt and revealed a fist-shaped bruise that ran along his bicep and onto his shoulder, what Danny had thought was a tattoo.
He nodded and lifted up his shirt momentarily, showing Elian the deep scar, now turned white that ran along his ribs. At that moment they reached an understanding, Danny thought, of two people born into two equally shitty lives.
"I meant to thank-you, for helping us out yesterday." He extended his hand and briefly shook Danny's.
Danny nodded, "So who's was it, anyways? The guy didn't seem to happy."
Elian had a brief smile on his face, "Me and my buddy, we stole from the back of a John's car. We knew this guy was always good for some shit before we started dealing ourselves, and decided to get a little payment. The thing is, the guy comes back and sees me and Rammy running into the apartment, and fucking chases us around the whole god damned place."
Danny smiled, "Why'd you pick this guy, the Olympic runner, to punk?"
"He's always been a dirty John, loves the younger ones. You know what I mean?"
Danny nodded again, and felt a despair rising deep inside. The kid had a drug problem and in way over his head.
"He's not doing anything, even if he does find me. My dad will kick the shit out of him, too. Busted my ass the other day because some junkie comes to the apartment looking for a fix. Word on the street travels fast, I guess."
He stood up and extended his hand, "I have to meet up with my buddy. I'm Elian, by the way."
"Danny, Danny Taylor. Son usted de Cuba?"
Elian nodded, "maƱana hablaremos otra vez?"
"Yeah, definitely." Danny watched as Elian picked up his black back-pack, slung it onto his back and slowly walked out of the room. He stood there as Elian disappeared around the corner, his footsteps lost in the echo of the basement. There was a dying hope in his chest that this kid would be okay.
