DYSFUNCTIONAL BEAT 

by Kent L Johnson 

  Smoke swirls upward from the tip Julio's cigarette that rests between his lips as he smoothly moves his pool cue forward and hits the white ball. The cue ball hits the table cushion at the right angle and with the right spin to bounce around my three ball and knock the eight ball into corner pocket. 

 “Good game,” Julio says. “Another?” 

 “Sure,” I say. 

 It's Tuesday night. Playin' pool on Tuesday night has been part of my routine for about six months now. Something to do, something to stay in touch with the neighborhood. I'm lookin' for someone more my skill level to play with, but it's slow tonight, so I play a game or two with Back English Julio. Julio's a hustler, a shark. One time I watched him sink nine consecutive racks in a row, in order, without ever missin' a shot. He plays me tonight for two reasons: just to stay in practice, and to let me win if he sees a mark, someone to hustle, someone to make a dime from. 

 I finish the rack and pull the triangle off, hang it on a wooden peg stickin' out of the wall. I sip a beer as Back English Julio lights another cigarette. The cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth as he breaks the rack, smoke hittin' his right eye, makin' him squint. The thirteen ball falls into the corner pocket. Julio's lookin' at a kid shootin' pool with a friend two tables down. Kid's good and Julio wants a shot at him. He purposely misses a shot, then walks to the Kid's table while I take my turn. 

 I sink two balls, then miss. I lean on a stool and wait for Julio to return. I look up and see Crackerhead Chuck walk into the pool hall. His name used to be just Chuck when I was a kid, but he turned into a real Crackerhead. I knew his little sister, Gracie, she was my first crush in middle school. Puppy love so bad, I needed to be house broke all over again. I think back to the flat chested girl with braces and pig tails and a smile full of metal. It didn't dawn on me then, but Chuck was destined to be a Crackerhead. 

Julio returns to the table, makes two shots, then misses again. He steps back and looks at the table. I see he's watchin' the Kid out of the corner of his eye. I'm thinkin' about Gracie as I take my next shot. We went out lots of times before she moved out of here. It's like every year we would date serious for a month or two before we split. I sink two more then miss again. 

“Hey, what's up,” Crackerhead Chuck says to us as he approaches the pool table. 

“Chuck.” I say. 

Julio nods in Chuck's direction, as he crushes his cigarette out in an ash tray. 

“Can anyone spare some?” Crackerhead Chuck asks. “I need to eat.” 

Everyone who runs the neighborhood knows Crackerhead Chuck lives at home. He's Mama's boy, and Mama would never let him go hungry. He's hungry for that fix. That fix that take him away from being right and perfect all the time to just bein' normal. 

“Maybe you can play me next game Chuck,” Julio says, nodding to the Kid's table. If you do right, I give you a cut.” 

Julio and Chuck done this setup before, I can tell. Settin' the Kid up two tables down to cough up some cash on a bet. A bet that Julio knows he's gonna win. 

“Okay,” Crackerhead says. He sits on a stool by the racks of cue sticks. I can see his hands shake a little. He wants that fix. 

Julio clears the table but he makes it look hard. The rest of his balls don't go smooth into the pockets, but bounce a bit. He's so good he can make it look  hard. The Kid's watchin' too. I see a grin on the Kid's face. He's already been suckered. Kid's followin' the bait, waitin' to take a bite. 

I sit on a stool and watch Crackerhead Chuck rack the balls. I think of his sister, of her family. She turned into a fine lady, one of the lucky ones that's out of here now. Her Mama was the strong one of the family and her firstborn, Charles, was her whole life. Her Daddy didn't do much 'cept work and watch TV. He lost his will under the constant nagging of the Misses. 

"I don't know what's wrong with you Gracie," her Mama would yell at her, in front of me as we was 'bout to go on a date. "I told you I didn't want to see you wear those pants out, they're all faded." 

"But Mom," Gracie says, "that's the style now."   

"Why can't you be more like your brother. Charles wouldn't do that. Now go put on a respectable pair of slacks or even a nice dress." 

Gracie got better lookin' every year. Every year I'd go to her house and hear her Momma beratin' her. 

I ask her once, "Why your Momma on you like that?" 

"I don't know Gracie says. She always liked Chuck better. I get a job and work hard and Momma just tells me that the job is dead end, I need to find a man, marry and get out of the house. Chuck gets fired from his last job, and Momma says it's the Manager's fault, not Chucks. Manager had it out for him." 

"That's not right I say." 

"It's been that way forever. In school Mamma called me dumb, but Chuck wasn't being taught right. The teacher had something against him. Anyway, lets go see a movie and have a soda," she says. 

Crackerhead Chuck don't play a bad game of pool. He looks convincing as he beats Julio. I wave off playin' another game with them, Julio and Chuck, they're working. I drain the last of my beer and just wait. I'm not leavin' until the coup de grace. Julio lights another cigarette. He hands an unlit one to Crackerhead. I'm still thinkin' of Gracie. 

She turns sixteen. She's workin' in a restaurant waitin' tables after school. A local beer distributor sees her and asks if she wants to be one of his calendar girls, no nudes, just costumes. I still got the calendar. Gracie's dressed in short shorts, a tight halter with fringe and cowboy boots. She's ridin' a beer keg, her left hand holding onto a leather strap and her right holding a cowboy hat in the air, like she's on a buckin' bronc. She's sexy and I swear, she's the best looking of all the calendar girls. Real photogenic, like she was born to be in pictures. 

Julio racks the balls and Chuck breaks. Julio ups his game a little. He's sinkin' more balls this time. He wanders over to the Kid's table and they talk. I see the Kid and Julio shake hands. Julio walks back to the pool table and continues to play with Crackerhead Chuck. 

A modeling agency sees Gracie's calendar shoot and looks her up. A local department store wants her in  their holiday catalog. She told me her father signs a  release while her Mamma's out playin' cards with the neighborhood ladies. Her Mamma doesn't find out she's bein' a model until she sees Gracie in the catalog. Her Mamma's hot, maybe jealous. She starts chargin' Gracie rent at seventeen. Crackerhead Chuck's now over twenty-seven and still don't pay rent. 

Julio beats Chuck in the game of pool and the next game is Julio and the Kid. Julio racks and the Kid breaks. The Kid's good, but I watch and know he's no match for Julio. Julio plays his fake bad game. There's a Grant riding on the match. 

I loved datin' Gracie back then. First, she's nice, I mean real nice. Number two, she's pretty, and I get this complex about havin' the hottest babe in the city on my arm. She's wearin' the latest fashion, cause they give them to her after a photo shoot. Gracie's paid real good from the pictures, better than waitin' tables. I take her to shows, amusement parks, out for a soda. I take her to those places a respectable lady should be, not the places I normally hang out. 

Julio loses the game to the Kid and asks for Double or Nothing comeback. He produces another Grant, then racks the balls. The Kid gets to break. It's another game of playing bad for Julio. Julio buys Chuck a beer and I see him do the hand off when he gives the beer to Chuck. He just slipped him money on the sly, the money that the Kid will get suckered in on. Pay Day money. 

Gracie turns eighteen during one of our off dating periods. She's  half seeing someone else, but no one in particular. She gives me a call out of the blue. She wants me to help her find an apartment. I ask her why and she tells me her Momma's kicked her out. 

I say, "Gracie, you never did nothin' to her. Why she treat you so bad?" 

"She's placed all her faith in Charles for all these years and he's no closer to becoming the Boy Wonder she hoped than the day they cut his umbilical chord.” 

"So she's mad at herself? Takin' it out on you?" 

"That's the only reason I can see,” she says. 

“What about your old man? Can't he help?” 

“He's no help. Lately, he comes home and drinks himself to sleep. Doesn't want nothing to do with any of us. He's a beaten man I think. I feel sorry for him. I want to move out anyway. It'll be nice to spend a night someplace without being told how worthless you are.” 

“Gracie, I'm so sorry,” I say. “I wish...” I stop. I really don't  know what I wish. I'm too young. I want to give her a big hug tell her I'm here to help, she'll be okay, I'll protect her or something, but I don't. For a moment I feel scared, butterflies in my stomach. I want to do something. I stay silent for a bit. “Okay, Gracie, I'll help you find a place.” 

Julio loses the game to the Kid. He looks down. 

“One more time. All I've got left is this hundred.” Julio holds up a Franklin. “That is unless I can borrow some from a friend.” He looks at the Kid. 

Julio walks over to me and asks for money. 

I shake my head. “All I got is a twenty and I still got to pay my bill.” 

He walks over to Crackerhead Chuck and asks. Crackerhead pulls out three C-notes. 

“What do you think,” Julio asks the Kid. “I want to win my money back plus be able to say I made a buck tonight. Want to go two hundred or three hundred?” 

They agree on three hundred. It's time for me to leave. Julio just made his paycheck tonight. The Kid don't stand a chance now. Kid's been hustled. 

I walk home thinking about Gracie. I saw her picture on a magazine cover a month or so back. She looks good, a little too skinny now, but good. I scan the magazine and find out she's in Milan, Italy. She walks the runway with other super models, gets paid incredible sums of money, 'cause she looks so good. I buy the magazine. I tear the cover off and place Gracie's picture on my refrigerator with little magnets. Gracie radiates from the photo as she peers across the dingy insides of a run down apartment a world away. 

I wake the next morning and I can smell cigarette smoke on my clothes from the night before. I take a shower and put on clean duds. I leave for work and walk out onto the sidewalk. It's just dawn, a gray background with silhouettes of dark buildings running down the street and even darker alley's piercing into the core. I walk past the tenements with tall walls and many windows. I walk past the billiard hall and by chance look into the alley next to it. Somethin' in the alley  looks out of place but familiar at the same time. I got time before work. I take a walk into the alley and see a person layin' there, their back perched against the wall of the billiard hall. I recognize the clothes before I even see the face: Crackerhead Chuck. 

Chuck's eyes are wide open and his face is pale. He's got a strap wrapped around his right arm, just below the bicep. A needle still in place in the vein of the inner elbow, coagulated blood around the pierce point. The syringe hangs off his arm, the needle pullin' up on the elasticity of his skin makin' a little point. He's had it. 

I leave the alley and walk to the corner. A cafe is open. I tell the waitress what 's going on and to let the police know I'll wait for them to arrive. I  go back and stand next to the alleyway, lean against the wall and watch for cops. 

I'm thinkin' about Gracie. If she comes home for her brothers funeral, maybe I can beg her to take me with her to Milan. I'll do anything for her, just get me out of this burgh. Let me see the sights of Italy and let me hold you once again. My chest is tight and I'm anxious for somethin', I just can't say it... I miss Gracie. 

I see flashing red and blue lights coming up the street. The cops are here and I'll be on my way to work. Chuck will get a ride to the morgue. 

Why would Gracie come home though? Her Mamma would probably blame her for Crackerhead's death. Chuck's death is probably the only thing he did that was actually another persons fault: Charles never did learn to be a man, never took responsibility for his actions, 'cause he was never allowed. 

End