When he wanted her ass, he asked for her coolo<\/em>.<\/p>\n Sometimes he called her a viciousca<\/em>, which she figured meant crack head. <\/p>\n There was a knock.<\/p>\n Paco got up, peered through the peephole and opened the door. <\/p>\n A white guy who looked to be in his mid 30’s came in.<\/p>\n He had eyes like broken televisions.<\/p>\n Susan thought that he was as ugly as hell. He looked as if he had been through the wringer several times, and that maybe he had enjoyed it.<\/p>\n He stood in front of Susan, peeling off twenties from a money clip.<\/p>\n Susan smiled. <\/p>\n \u201cWhat’s up?”<\/p>\n \u201cNothin'”<\/p>\n \u201cI’m Susan.”<\/p>\n \u201cI’m Johnny.” <\/p>\n Johnny bought a whole bunch of rocks. He sat down next to Susan and produced a pipe.<\/p>\n Susan watched as he broke off a chunk of crack, placed it on the gauze and took a hit.<\/p>\n When he pulled on that pipe, he looked like he was sucking on a 50-dollar cigar.<\/p>\n There was something appealing in his ugliness. <\/p>\n \u201cGoddamn,” he said, and then again; \u201cGoddamn.”<\/p>\n \u201cLong day?”<\/p>\n \u201cThey all are.” <\/p>\n The laborer left, having smoked most of the money he had earned this week.<\/p>\n Maria continued to smoke, alone. A cockroach, brazen and the size of a small mouse crawled up her arm and regarded the room from there, its antennae waving softly as if stirred by a summer breeze. Maria did not move nor acknowledge it. Then the roach scuttled away, breaking across the floor and perching on top of the television. From here it surveyed the room. <\/p>\n Paco got bored and sat in front of the TV, flicking his X-Box on. The roach did not move. <\/p>\n \u201cWhen I was 6,” Johnny said to Susan, \u201cmy best friend and I killed a boy.”<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah?”<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. We took him from our local shopping mall. We walked him away from his mom while she was looking at underwear, out of the mall, and down to the train tracks.”<\/p>\n \u201cIs that where you did it? I mean where you killed him?”<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. My friend hit him on the head with a brick. He was still moving. So I stabbed him in the throat with my pocket knife.”<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s heavy. Why did you do it?”<\/p>\n \u201cWe wanted to see what it would feel like.”<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did it feel like?”<\/p>\n \u201cCheap and two dimensional. Like a bad TV program.” <\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened next?”<\/p>\n \u201cWe covered the body up with branches and shit. My friend, Frankie, had an asthma attack. Nerves, you know?” <\/p>\n \u201cDid you get busted?”<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeah. Big time. About 7 or 8 separate witnesses saw us leaving with the kid, and recognized us. We made the papers. It was a pretty big deal. We were tried in another state because they were scared we were gonna get lynched or some shit. They locked us away until we turned 18 and then they had to turn me loose.”<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about your friend?”<\/p>\n \u201cHe turned queer in the institution. A boyfriend of his stabbed him up. He was 15.”<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s tough.”<\/p>\n \u201cLife’s tough. They changed my name. I used to be called Adam. Now I’m Johnny.” <\/p>\n \u201cI’d like to change my name.”<\/p>\n \u201cTo what?”<\/p>\n Susan thought for a moment and smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cChampagne” she decided.<\/p>\n \u201cThat sounds like a stripper’s name.” <\/p>\n Susan laughed, flattered: \u201cI wish!”<\/p>\n \u201cYou could dance, baby!”<\/p>\n \u201cYou think so?”<\/p>\n \u201cStand up.” <\/p>\n Susan stood, still holding the primo, and turned around slowly.<\/p>\n The drugs had eaten away at her face.<\/p>\n But she had good legs.<\/p>\n Johnny was a leg man. <\/p>\n \u201cBuddy of mine owns a club called Gold Diggers down on Alvarado. He’s looking for a girl.”<\/p>\n \u201cNo shit? You think he’d like me?<\/p>\n \u201cSure. As long as you ain’t shy.”<\/p>\n Susan grinned a wet, red grin.<\/p>\n \u201cOh I ain’t shy, man. When?”<\/p>\n \u201cNo time like the present.” <\/p>\n Susan went over to Paco and crouched down. She put a finger in his thick, straight hair and twirled it.<\/p>\n Paco ignored her.<\/p>\n He was playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City<\/em>.<\/p>\n She said: \u201cPapi, I’m just going to see about a job, OK? Mucho dinero, si?<\/em> I’ll be back soon.”<\/p>\n She kissed his neck. <\/p>\n Paco didn’t move or shift his gaze from the screen.<\/p>\n Women were like crack fiends. <\/p>\n Another would be knocking at his door soon enough.<\/p>\n This bitch smoked too much of his stuff anyway. <\/p>\n \u201cC’mon, Adam.”<\/p>\n \u201cJohnny.”<\/p>\n \u201cOh yeh, Johnny.” <\/p>\n They left Paco, poor mute Maria, and the brazen cockroach on top of the TV behind. <\/p>\n Outside the sun was setting behind a haze of smog.<\/p>\n The sky looked the color of vomit.<\/p>\n The streets were filling up with the Friday night crowd.<\/p>\n An old woman stood by a shopping cart that had been converted into a wagon to sell churros and barbequed corn on the cob smeared with mayonnaise and chili powder. Next to her a young girl with bare feet played with a wooden cup and ball. As Johnny and Susan walked past the girl looked up at Susan with wide, brown eyes and Susan smiled at her as she clip-clopped past. <\/p>\n As she made eye contact with Susan, the old woman grabbed the girl and pulled her close. She hissed: \u201cEsa mujer es una visciousa!”<\/em><\/p>\n Susan flipped the old woman off.<\/p>\n The air felt murky, and alive with static electricity, like there was a storm brewing of some kind.<\/p>\n It was Friday night. The California sky was pregnant with possibilities.<\/p>\n \nBy Tony O’Neill<\/b>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":119,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1062","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1062","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/119"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1062"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1062\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1062"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1062"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1062"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![ton.jpg](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2007\/04\/ton.jpg\")
\nABOUT THE AUTHOR<\/strong>
\nTony O’Neill<\/strong><\/a>‘s debut novel Digging the Vein<\/i> is published in the US and Canada by Contemporary Press<\/strong><\/a>, and in the UK by Wrecking Ball Press<\/strong><\/a>. His collection Seizure Wet Dreams<\/strong><\/i><\/a> was published by Social Disease<\/strong><\/a>. He has played with bands including Kenickie, The Brian Jonestown Massacre and Marc Almond. He lives in New York.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"![\"ton.jpg\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2007\/04\/ton.thumbnail.jpg\")
Maria continued to smoke, alone. A cockroach, brazen and the size of a small mouse crawled up her arm and regarded the room from there, its antennae waving softly as if stirred by a summer breeze. Maria did not move nor acknowledge it. Then the roach scuttled away, breaking across the floor and perching on top of the television. From here it surveyed the room.<\/p>\n