The Contract

A knock at the door... I set my book down on the arm of the couch, let out a deep breath and push myself up out of the sunken cushion.

"Hey."
"Hey, how are ya?"
"I'm...I'm, okay, I suppose?"
"That's good, I suppose," he says as he laughs.
"Sorry, sorry, c'mon in, pal," I stammer out. Lost and out of focus.
"Well, thanks, I figured you were just gonna have me stand at the doorstep the whole time," he says as he walks in. I can smell the perfume from the night before, still lingering on him.
"Right. Ya, sorry, I...um....Jesus, I'm out of it." He gives me that look that the religious types give someone when they use God's or Jesus' name in some way other than an addressing of the spiritual being that God or Jesus is. Or is supposed to be.
"Looks like your power is out," he says. I didn't even notice. Looks like I was lost in the book.

Az stands about 6'2", slightly taller than my 5'11" height. Dark hair, a big bright-white smile. Az is the type of guy a girl will fall in love with in a heartbeat. I think he used to be a model. I don't remember. It's strange; I haven't seen him in years, and he looks identical to the last time I saw him, hasn't aged. Last time I saw him, I was going through some heavy shit. He's a good guy, there when you really need him - that's what I tell myself at least.

"This is a bit different than your last place," Az says as he gazes around my open apartment. The sun shooting through the front bay window, with a cool breeze coming through the side windows.
"Which place?"
"That basement job you lived in. That place was a shithole."
"With the leaky faucet?"
"Everything in there was leaky, man" he says as we both laugh.
"But, at least the power stayed on."
"Sometimes."

I haven't thought about that apartment in years. Has it really been that long since I've seen Az? I guess so? Time fucking flies when you try to live; when everything else in the world is going on.

"Sit down, man," I say, offering up a chair at the table.
Az takes a seat, "Sailor, you got a drink for me?"
"Sure."
"Jack. Neat."
"Original."
"It's what I drink!"
"I'll make it two," I mumble off...
"Oh, you put on you big boy pants?" He condescends to me.
"It's not everyday I'm graced with your presence."
"Yeah, it's been a couple of years, hasn't it?" Az says, as he leans back in the chair.
"I guess it has been. I hadn't thought about it until I saw you standing at the door. Still living down south?"
"Yeah, still in sales, too. Nothing new. Nothing old."
"Making money in this economy?"
"Of course I am, how could I not?" He says, in his 'salesman' pitched voice.
"Az, have you seen this economy?" I ask, matter-of-factly.
"Sure, I've seen lots of shit. Good times, bad times, you know I've had my share," as he starts to hum the song.
"Your woman left home with a brown-eyed man and you still don't seem to care?" I say the next line.
"Danny," he leans into me, "I am that brown-eyed man," he says as he winks at me.

I throw my drink into the back of my throat and get up to pour myself another.

Az' ego makes me sick.

"So, Az, what brings you up north? You don't like the cold."
"It's 96* today. It's the summer, ya moron." His tan, I think, is permanent.
I chuckle, "You weren't just in the neighborhood and figured you'd stop in?"
"I hear you're not doing too hot."
"Word travels fast on the coconut telegraph, doesn't it?"
"No, Danny, it's the BlackBerry network, now."
"Az, you're an azz," I quip.
"Danny, piss off," Az snaps right back at me.

Like lost brothers. Picking up like we'd seen each other only days ago.

"Now, I hear you're not doing too well. I figure I can help you out."
"I don't know how, Az," I wonder, aloud.
"Remember, I helped you with your mom?" He says reassuringly.
"Yeah, I guess you did. That was the last time I saw you, wasn't? You didn't make it up for the funeral...why was that?"
"Man, if I went to every funeral of every person I knew or a person of a person that I knew, I'd never get any work done. I've got a lifestyle to maintain, Danny. Besides, you were stronger then. Now, I don't think you're as strong as you used to be."

That's why women quickly fall out of love with Az. His pearly whites can only mask his devilish ego before so long. But, with his money, he can afford to be the biggest dick he wants to be, and numbers of women will still run to him. Like flies to shit.

"Yeah, but, Az, that was my mother." I pout. Though he's right. I was stronger then. I didn't need anyone's help. How the fuck did I make it through that shitstorm with out losing it?
"Danny, I'm sorry. But, that's why I'm here. I want to make that up to you." He says calmly. Much, like he'd be speaking to an irate customer, whom AZ just lost a fuck ton of money for.
"Make it up to me? How? How the fuck are you going to make it up to me, Az?" I snap. At this point, I'm just being childish and bitter. I should really just put on my big boy pants and keep my trap shut.

I can feel the bitterness sinking in, like a bad sunburn.

"What do you need? Danny, I can get you anything you need," Az says as he throws his arms open. Like a king offering his kingdom to a brave soldier saving him on the battlefield. Only, I haven't saved Az from shit.
"What do you mean? Like getting rid of unpaid parking tickets? Money? A couple of girls for the night? This is the same shit you said last time." I throw my fists down on the table. It shakes the room.
"Danny, Danny Boy, this, this is different," he tries calmly to settle me down.
My anger is clearly visible. Yet for no real reason provoked. This has just been normal, lately.
"Different like how?" I ask. Quickly.
"Different, like I'm looking for a partner," he says, reassuringly.
"A partner," I question. Slowly.
"A business partner, Danny." Az gives a solid response. Stern voice. Almost fatherly.
"Az, you've got the money. You've got the brains. Why do you need a partner?" I prod.
"I want to help you pull through this rut. And, I need some fresh blood. Everyone I've worked with and signed contracts with is dried up, good for nothing ideas, burned out and only looking for money, a quick fix. I need you Danny. I want to work with you, get you into my business. I need fresh blood."
"How the fuck is that gonna help me cope?"
"I don't fucking know. I just figured it'd give you time to clear your head, something to do with your piss ass moping time."
"I don't fucking mope, you cock!"
"I can walk, Danny. I can see you again in a few years." Az knows he won't walk. I know he won't walk.
"Yeah, that's how you operate."
"Let me tell you what I have in mind." Az pulls out his briefcase.

Does this guy do business everywhere? Yeah, I think he does.

Over the next few hours we talk. We drink. The bottle of Jack is getting lighter. We laugh. At some point we needed to eat. So, we ordered food. We kept talking. Learning everything about what Az did. What he does. How he got here. How I am where I am. Wherever that is. We talk about girls. The women we loved; the women who didn't love us. Az has a lot more of those than I would've ever guessed; the loved and the loved nots. I tell him about the good eats in the neighborhood. The best places to catch fish off the docs along the river. He tells me about the southern heat in the summers. How the winters are never warm enough. His disdain for tourists and places like Disney World and New Orleans. We talk about our first cars. Favorite drinks. Future goals. Past failures. Not a life altering conversation, but almost, a complete discography (including the rare and unreleased stuff - oh, and don't forget the picture books).

The sun is starting to set, the dusk sky creeps into the apartment. Az pulls out his briefcase. I turn on the light above the table, but the power is still out. The rush of air from the open windows is a cold breeze - something I hadn't felt in weeks. This sticky, humid, wet, thick heat - I'm surprised that a cold breeze exists in these summer temperatures. I can't imagine how Az could possibly enjoy the summer heat down south.

"What, you've got the contract, here?" I'm shocked.
"Danny, I move quickly." Az says, very matter-of-factly.
"I can see why the women love you."

Az pulls out a folder from his briefcase, open on the table, though, facing him, so I can't see what's inside. Though, it's probably for the best.

"Danny, a lot of this shit is just semantics. Lawyer fluff. Cock-teased bullshit."
"So.... Why do I have to go through it?"
"You don't."
"Then, what do I need to do?"
"Sign," he says, seriously.
"Christ, I feel like I'm signing my soul away, Az."
He gives me that damned look again.
"Got a pen?" I ask.
"Here ya go," as he hands me one from his briefcase.
"Az, I think I need this. This better not fuck me in the long run," I chuckle out.
"Danny, you have no idea how big this will be for me... And you."

A knock at the door. Az looks up at me.

"Expecting any visitors," he asks, sounding like a jealous boyfriend.
"Uh... No," I say, confusedly. I didn't think anyone was coming over.

Az pushes the contract closer to me, as though he's in some sort of a hurry. He doesn't say anything, but the look on his face says he's in a big rush.

I get up, to answer the door, and Az grabs my shoulder to throw me down into the chair. I look at him, baffled. I throw his arm away from me, and get up. Nothing is said during this moment. It's a strange, hard, silence.

I can see a light, beaming through the crack between the door and the floor. I don't bother to look back at Az. I open the door, and the light is beyond bright.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," she says in a slight British accent.
"Rene, what in the world are you doing with a flashlight?"
"The power is out in the building, it's pitch black, Danny."
"Is it?" I ask, as I turn and look at the clock by the TV, that's off. "So, I suppose it is, still...." I can't piece anything together lately. I'd make for a horrible Watson or Holmes.
"Danny, Danny, Danny, have you been drinking?"
"Yeah," I say, as I realize Az and I finished the bottle of Jack. "Az and I were having a few drinks."
"Az?" she asks.
"Yeah, my buddy Az. He's in town. C'mon on in, meet him."
Rene turns off her flashlight, and the place still seems brighter.

I close the door, "Hey, Az, this is my love, Rene," I say, and just like that, the power comes back on. She turns around, and gives me a bright smile. This was the first time I think I've referred to her as something other than a friend. Though, she's dragged my ass through a lot of shit, but nothing like this. She's been the rock that I've clung to in this vicious storm.

Az is in the pisser. Rene grabs a seat at the table.

"So, what were you two talking about about," she asks, directing her vision to the empty bottle of whiskey on the table.
"Ugh," I chuckle out. "Az is looking for a business partner."
"Oh, yeah? What kind of business?"
"He's a pimp, Rene," I sarcastically sputter out. "He needs some muscle."
She gives me that look. You know the look. The one where you say too much. Yeah, that look.
"Azazel, you still in the pisser?" I scream out.

Still no answer. I get up, "Az can explain it a lot better." I walk to the bathroom door, and knock. It swings open. I turn and look at Rene. His briefcase is gone. Along with the contract that was sitting on the table.

"Did he just leave?" she asks, puzzled, though, not as much as me.
"I guess....so?" I'm baffled. Befuddled. Lost.
"Can you call him? Maybe it was an emergency."
"I don't have his cell," I say as I walk to the back of the apartment. "The door is still locked."
"He didn't walk past us through the front door."
"No, no, he didn't."
"And you're going to go in business with him?"
"I was."