The Hairdresser's Crush

A Chapter by Judas Hammer

I continued my adventures on Broadway. I had to end a crush but I stared to see Cory more and I noticed he was out of control.....

Throughout that week I saw Cory more than usual. He would be up early with a cup off coffee in his hand, outside of the corner gas station. I walked to my car parked a half mile from the Villa.

“What’s up Big Homie!” He said.

It was way to early to have that much energy in the morning. I waved as my Kenneth Coles drug on the light, grey sidewalk, as the sun played Peek-a-boo with the Marie layer. I would later see him on Broadway as always walking with a different ragtag character. It never seemed to be the same person: all the characters where usually off the beaten path of humanity.

He would greet me with a hug and introduce me to the new friend whose name would be forgotten, as I am sure they forgot mine. Like clock work, I found him in the park later that day with the group of Mexican or either terrorizing the daycare at the Center or bothering the skateboarders, while trying to steal their boards as they went to the bathroom.

I also witnessed Ty riding in cars with various college ages white fellows. Clean cut and well scrubbed, with parents oblivious their son was driving around a gay, navy seal that did seventeen year in the California Penal system. Their boy buying Ty sandwiches, as he impailed their boy from behind, after he finished studying for the Microbiology Midterm.

All work and no fun make jack and dull boy and trolling for black male love.

Cory and Ty were a tag team in Male prostitution prostitution scene: roaming the street each one having their type and knowing how to attract them. Cory needed the drugs and Ty needed to survive.

Most times I would see Ty sitting at the table in the park next to the bathrooms of the center. He leaned on the table laying in the sun, drinking a cup of Coffee, while reading the paper. He was always friendly and would put his paper down to have a conversation.

Usually, he was schooling me on Bixby Park. He knew the park in and out and told me his kids play there, so he had to ensure their safety. In back of the table the gang of Mexicans laid in the grass high out of their minds or drunk rolling on blankets: laughing and sneaking pisses on the grass. I said hello to keep them on my good side. I didn’t need any more enemies or friend. The official information on Bixby Park: In August of 1938, the four lots south of Ocean Boulevard, to the mean high tide line were purchased from Mrs. Bertha Bixby to add to the original size of the park. In 1952, the City acquired the final section of Bixby Park, the block south of Ocean Boulevard between Ocean Boulevard and 17th Place as a gift from Mrs. Florence G. Bixby.

If the dear Ms Bixby ever knew that a roving gang of Mexican drug deals were using her dear park for their illegal activities, she would roll over in her grave. If the dear Ms Bixby knew that Bloods were turning tricks in the Men’s room for the over sixty, rich wig wearing, Male a*s lovers, she would have never agreed to the gift. If the dear Ms Bixby knew fellows with multi year bids, were doing pull ups while smoking weed, with their Crip brethren she would dig herself out and kick over her own grave stone.

After talking to Ty, I headed over to the work out area and do my routine in the warm, sunshine. There were other people working out as well. Eric was a short, tanned muscular Mexican man in his late twenties. He lived on the pull up bar and never wore a s**t the whole duration session. He rode around on a gold ten-speed and often shared stories about fighting his ex’s present boyfriend. He claimed the jealous partner was always on a search and destroy mission. A skinny, dark skinned man, about the same age, with a high afro and Egyptian eyes would be with him or not that far. He was always puffing on the Green and watching out for the boys in blue at the same time.

He watched me practicing my Filipino Martial arts and asked me about them. I gave him a small lesson. The same lesson and words I got from The Escrima Master in Eagle Rock, outside of the Christian Coffeshop on ave 53. The dark pole cat told his tales of fighting in a proson cell and people didn't fight fair. I took notes of that conversation.

There were various people who worked out or watched the work outs with frothing mouths. There was a chubby, short jewish man who would come to the park dressed in a full Lakers outfit and not do one push up. He stalked the shirtless black men with a thirsty, lustful stare. When he though it was safe he would walk over to the object of his daydream and hand them a business card as a guise for a date, later if the feeling out session went well. God and Moses help him, if it didn’t go well, the gang meber would put him on a permiment Sabbath, yet again Ty said most Gang members where Bi sexual and I had heard that same sentence from the lips of a girl in Carson once.

So it probably worked out for both parties. I have to give the Lakers fan credit. You have to have Kobe sized confidence to approach a dangerous man and ask him if you can pay him to perform oral sex.

As I talked to the tall, thin felon, a medium brown, shirtless man filled with tattoos and baggy jeans approached the pull up bars. He started doing moves, muscle ups and cherry bombs on the bar. He was amazing, I had seen the Bar Benders on Youtube doing tricks, but he was performing them in person with ease. I watched him like a season ticket holder. After twenty minutes, exited with shoulder slumped and a bob to his walk. I finished up with the jump rope and headed back to the Villa. I walked Broadway an Cory was coming towards me. His was wearing a chain as a necklace and a large Mohawk with cheap sunglasses and of course teeth grinding.

“Hey what up Big homie?”

“What are you doing man.”

“Man I’m trying to run the world. I’m going to take over this block and then get a record contract men. I’m just doing my thing!”

“He I’m going to be back later, you going to be on the street?”

“Yeah man. I’ll be here!”

I strolled by as he went the other way. The sun felt good on my weary body. My muscles were tight. I was El Monstro of Broadway.

I went to the Red Rum a couple more time, but could no longer take being hit on my the fat Hair dresser. He commented on my chest and felt on my arms as drool fell from his chubby cheeks. I didn’t have the heart to physically stop him, plus that was his bar, so I stopped going. One night prior to that we got overly drunk and tried to walk home through the Ghetto, when some aggressive Twinks tried to carry me away.

The hairdresser saved me. He told me I was punching street sign and fences. I didn’t remember. He said I was scary and I think that turned him on more. I could'nt remember most of that night but I didn’t find any stains on my person and my a*s was still intact and my Johnson didn’t seem manipulated or used. I couldn't take another chance and stopped hanging around the Hairdresser even though he knew most of the bar maidens.

The possibility of rape or drunken fondling seemed on the horizon, so I had to end out bar friendship: on my end anyway. I did see him the next morning at the Red Room getting a Bloody Mary wearing the same clothes stuggling to stay verticle. I went to retreve my car and noticed a nice fifty dollar ticket.

In the trunk were bag of goodies for my daughter. I drove up to the mothers condo and dropped off the stuff I had bought. I purchased the baby’s clothes, food and toys before even spending a penny on beer. She would always come first to me. I drove from Bixby Knolls back to the Ghetto and found a close parking spot.

At least something went good!

I didn't go back to the Red Room and Braddelys was far and the Gay clubs were out of the question for now. I had been hit on and avoided attempted seduction at a straight watering hole on the edge of the Gayborhood.

I remember a few months ago, Deez had taken me to a club called the Basement on Linden. It was a subterreanean night club below an art galley. It was free before ten and those are words I loved to hear. My plan. Dress and walk to the nightclub loaded on Four Lokos, but first I must go to the park and work out. I went to Bixby with my recently purchased kettle bell that weighted twenty-five pounds. I bought it from a Sports Authority in El Segundo with the help of an Air Force commando I was doing time with. She was originally from Florida, but moved to LA a few months ago. I asked her to front me the money. She did. I gave her back the doe at the Villa.

I had studied the Kettle bell for a few weeks and now would add it to my routine at the park. I kept it in my trunk for easy access. I did a three-hour work out in the sun with the skate park as my ambience. While working out I noticed thin transient looking men sitting on a bench off to the side. They did nothing but sit and stare at the street. A car would pull up and they jumped inside. Ty was off to the side reading the LA times with a cup of Joe by his side. He would throw me a friendly nod and return to what he was doing. I basically had the work out area to myself that day.

I walked through Broadway and again found Corey, eyes moving a thousand miles a second and his teeth grinding. He was shirtless exposing his well defined bronze body. He was wearing one shoe and one sock. I look down quickly, but regain eye contact as if nothing had ever happened.

“What up man? What are you doing?

“Nothing man. I’m running these streets I’m about to get a AKA 47 and show these n****s whats really up.”

He notices a skinny white college student crossing at the light.

“Hey man! Wait up. Hey Beautiful!”

He left me standing there as he limped across the street with one sock and one shoe chasing a skinny vanilla love interest to the other side of Broadway.

I returned to the Riveria and napped.

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© 2013 Judas Hammer

Author's Note

This is another Chapter, please comments are accepted and any critique. Either love or hate all are needed

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Featured Review

Dayran

The sunshine on Broadway must have witnessed quite a bit of activity on the street and the park. But mostly it must have noticed a young man going through his paces ... as he hustled his way in and out of relationships in a company that seemed mostly bronze under its rays. It would explain the way a person's eyes moves at a thousand miles a sec. Nice going Judas.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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10 Years Ago

as he hustled his way in and out of relationships in a company that seemed mostly bronze under its r.. read more

Reviews

Coyote Poetry

A very wild tale as always. You had a wild life. I like the description of location and people. You made the events come alive in vision and in thoughts. I tell the young folks. You must live and test life to the fullest. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote