Bulldog and Flower: The (mis)Adventure of Bulldog Means

By Leonard Harris

She was dying to live. 

He was living to die. 

Their friendship was just the beginning.

Bulldog struggled for years to survive on his own. But when he's arrested for the third time, he's headed for change or headed for jail. With the Program watching his every move, he meets young cancer survivor Flower and helps her complete her bucket list. 

Their time together inspires Bulldog, but this ain't no Disney movie. A dangerous gangster is looking for his heroin connection and will stop at nothing to find them both. Bulldog has to make a choice about his life, before one gets made for him.

In this debut, fiction author Leonard Harris writes a narrative "from the soul of true repentance". This is lit with fire. A story that shows how we all might live -- even if knew we we're dying. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leonard Harris
• Release date: Feb 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386861225

Leonard Harris

Leonard Harris is originally from Southfield, Michigan but can be found in Albuquerque these days working on his next book or film. Proud father, family man, son, Brother, etc.

Book preview

Leonard Harris

Bulldog and Flower

The (mis)Adventure of Bulldog Means

First published by Harris Mixed Media in 2018

Copyright © Leonard Harris, 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

For Kalief Browder, Larry Belton,

and all my dogs trying to survive this rabid indifference.

Peace.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

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Also by Leonard Harris

Chapter 1

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON at the Co-op in Nob Hill as Nathan read the fifth or sixth Mother’s Day card. He was standing in the tiny candy and card section of the Albuquerque-famous grocery store on Central. Wondering who’s mama they talking about.

He puts it back.

Bulldog is Nathan’s street name. He’s seventeen, about six-feet or so. His young brown face is dotted with acne. His eyes are soft, but harmed and mistrustful. He shrugs his shoulders, adjusts his clothes. Almost like he’s got something up his sleeve.

He looks to the end of the aisle. A little girl passes. There’s some old Mexican dude sweeping up the place. Watching. Of course he is. They always are. Bulldog gives him the screw face. The guy leaves. Bulldog takes a glance down by his side.

He sees this little girl of about eight standing next to him. She’s in a denim dress with a big embroidered flower. He watches her adjust her clothes, just like he did a moment ago. She doesn’t look at him, but he can tell she’s psyching herself up for *something*.

Bulldog looks at her curious. Hears her mother call her.

From just around the corner in the next aisle, her cute mother emerges. She’s in her early thirties, in yoga pants and trainers. The girl almost jumps out her socks.

Something falls near her feet, but Mom doesn’t notice. She’s already passed her daughter and Bulldog. Turning the corner.

Come on, Candice.

Mom didn’t see the thing fall to the floor, but Bulldog sure did. And he sees Candice kick it under the display before she takes off. He picks up the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Looks to where she and her mother were, but they’re already gone.

In the parking lot a few minutes later, Candice is climbing in the car and putting her seat belt on. Mom finishes putting the goods in the trunk and closes it. Bulldog approaches but she can’t see him. When he speaks, she retorts more annoyed than afraid.

I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash for…

Oh, I’m not— Naw, I’m..

He clears his throat. She looks at him, waiting for the ask. He puts his shopping bag in his left hand. Pulls a Peanut Butter Cups out of his hoodie pouch with his right.

For your little girl. He shrugs, almost smiles. She, kinda unsure, considers it. You pay for this?

But, she already knows the answer. Bulldog stands there as Candice’s Mom pulls away. The little girl with the flower on her dress in the window peeks at the friendly stranger. Her fingers wiggle a little, sneaking a wave goodbye.

After he picks up his face, Bulldog hits the button on his keyring. Climbs into an Escalade. It’s an ivory and chrome rhinoceros. Most thirty year-olds would struggle making the payments. He closes the door. Charges that one to the game.

The engine rumbles to life. But just before he puts the car in gear, he takes a look around. Sees a cop car roll up to the front of the grocery store. With his hoodie sleeves stretched over his hands, he touches the wheel. Shifts it in reverse.

Turns and rolls out the lot in the other direction.

THE DESERT HILLS REHAB CENTER is a multi-story, diverse complex of spacious single-units. Each with beautiful terra-cotta roof and sparkling white stucco. Welcoming archways throughout and a fully-xeriscaped property with year-round maintenance included.

At least that was what the website said. It’s a good enough place for someone cleaning-up their bloodstream. Bulldog’s Jordan 23’s in the Bulls colors step up to an apartment door. A rotisserie chicken steaming in a shopping bag with a card and some half-melted peanut butter cups.

On the other side of the door a thin bouquet of a woman, Bulldog’s Mother, lies strung across a messy couch in front of a cheap coffee table. She’s hears her son’s weak, accidental knock on the door. She wakes as if from a deep sleep. Slow and drifting as she walks to answer it.

But when she opens the door, she finds dinner without a date. He left the shopping bag on her doorstep. She looks left, right, to the distance. Nobody there. She picks-up the gift from her anonymous guardian angel. Finds the card in there. Recognizes the handwriting on it.

Across the street, a slow white rhinoceros pulls away. It turns the corner and disappears just before she looks that way.

Deep in the South Valley, Bulldog and a Black-Hispanic Man in his mid-forties. O helps him pull fitted sheets over the Escalade. Bulldog walks around, squeezes between the huge bumper and the garage door. He dances through the tiny space. Wipes himself clean.

O reaches behind a gas can in the corner. Pulls out a white towel, hands it to Bulldog. He unwraps a 9MM pistol. That’s you.

Bulldog hesitates. O presses him. Don’t sleep, dog. Ain’t gon’ be no Disney ending. Telling you that right now. He looks at him as if he were a fool to think otherwise. Bulldog nods.

You right. A nigga just got bad luck, I guess. O measures the kid a little. Maybe he gets it. He points at a backpack.

That’s you over there, too. Bulldog walks over to a tool-lined shelf. Unzips the bag. Finds a plastic bag tied in a knot. Full of red-clay colored chunks of heroin.

I thought you said a quot’?

It’s half, your lucky day. Just don’t slang the shit. Bulldog zips the backpack up. Puts it on.

I’m wholesalin’.

Smart kid. Aight. They five-and-pound. Bulldog grabs his bike. Splits.

O barks, Stay free, dog, as he pedals off.

PARKED IN AN ALLEY just before sunset, Bulldog is sitting in the passenger of a early aught’s Lincoln. He hands the dope to a young boy in his teens behind the wheel.

Yeah, you got better than what we had this morning. We could cut it three or four ti— Bulldog nips at him.

—Nah. Just sell that off before re-up. I don’t want your bosses looking for me. The boy smirks, kinda laughs as if it doesn’t even matter. He’s cocky for sure, and that makes Bulldog uneasy. I got your back. We all we got out here, ‘dog.

Bulldog’s not impressed. He notices someone on a lowrider bike pull up outside. It’s the corner Lieutenant, Manny. He’s the same age as them. Doesn’t look happy to roll up and see his Sergeant making deals.

Manny’s rocking new DC kicks a black-and-red fitted. Talking to another corner kid. Pointing at Bulldog and his boy in the driver’s seat. Your man don’t look happy.

Who, Manny? He’ll change his tune after testers come back.

Let me get my side. I gotta bounce. The boy hands him a stack of cash. Bulldog does a quick count.

Along a tree-lined path by the Rio Grande, Bulldog is sitting