Written in Blood Volume 5 by Michael Lister

Author:Michael Lister [Lister, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pulpwood Press
Published: 2017-08-10T22:00:00+00:00

26

Kathryn nods. “Yeah, sadly I’m pretty sure she did. So . . . sad. I mean . . . And I don’t just mean the not having sex part. That’s just . . . one more thing that . . . There are no . . . words.”

As if she is literally right, no one says anything for a few moments, everyone seeming to take in all over again how tragic and cruel Angel’s death, Qwon’s fate, and their loss has been.

Eventually, Kathryn says, “I guess we need to keep . . . going. Okay. Where’d y’all go first?”

“To my car to smoke some weed,” Rex says.

“To Panama Java,” McKenna says.

“Me too, “Amber says.

“Do you remember seeing Angel and Qwon there?” Kathryn asks.

They all agree they did.

We stop in front of the spot next to the Italian restaurant Ferrucci’s, where Panama Java used to be. The large covered patio/courtyard is empty. Beyond it the little shop that had once been a coffee bar, then later a restaurant, and in between its basement a meth lab, now sits dark and empty—the antithesis of what it was the memorable night in January of 1999.

Merrill and I had gotten coffee and brought it out into the courtyard to one of the tables near where a female guitarist was doing an acoustic set and discussed the event we had just been to—which led into discussions on race and art and beauty and women and the world. It was truly a great night. And yet just a few feet away from us, unbeknownst to us, the lives of a small group of teenagers were about to be changed forever.

“It’s so sad it’s gone,” Paige says. “It was a really cool place.”

Her words are still soft, her demeanor shy and self-conscious, but she’s talking more now and seems marginally more relaxed.

“Became a really hot place later when they started cooking meth in the basement,” Billy says, his voice seeming to boom compared to Paige’s.

“Where’d you go after leaving the civic center?” I ask Derrick.

“To Rex’s car to smoke weed,” he says. “Then we went to The Place.”

“Where’d y’all get the weed?” I ask.

“Same place everybody did,” Rex says. “Justice Witney.”

“Was he down here that night?” I ask. “Anybody remember seeing him?”

Several of them nod.

“I bought from him that night,” Derrick says.

“He was always on the periphery,” Kathryn says. “But he was always around.”

“I guarantee he didn’t go hear any poetry be read,” Billy says, his words wet, his voice whistley, “but he was down here hanging around making sales, talking shit. Sumbitch knows he likes to talk.”

“Did any of you see him with or near Angel or Qwon that night?” I ask.

Most shake their heads. A few say no.

McKenna says, “They were at some of the same places at the same time, but I never saw them together or even speak.”

“Where’d everybody go after leaving here?” Kathryn says.

About half the group went to The Place on Grace and the other half went to the Visual Arts Center.

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