To & from the West

By Thomas Paine

In 2007, a former friend and I left home in Mississippi to pursue a new life in Los Angeles. It would be an adventure that would change our lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728344621

Thomas Paine

Thomas Paine (1736-1809) was an English born American activist, philosopher, and author. Before moving to America, Paine worked as a stay maker, but would often get fired for his questionable business practices. Out of a job, separated from his wife, and falling into debt, Paine decided to move to America for a fresh start. There, he not only made a fresh start for himself, but helped pave the way for others, too. Paine was credited to be a major inspiration for the American Revolution. His series of pamphlets affected American politics by voicing concerns that were not yet intellectually considered by early American society.

Book preview

© 2020 Kevin Murphy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/24/2020

ISBN: 978-1-7283-4463-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-4462-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

To my dear friend & an amazing mother to my nephew Lomond,

Coco Vallette Anthony

We all need Coco in our lives!

CAUTION:

Names have been changed to avoid lawsuits.

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1     Locked In A Bird Cage

Chapter 2     Taking Control

Chapter 3     Back To College!

Chapter 4     Why Not?

Chapter 5     Hollywood!

Chapter 6     Life In L.A.

Chapter 7     Good Times In California

Chapter 8     Trouble In L.A.

Chapter 9     Goodbye, Hollywood

Chapter 10   You Can’t Go Home

Chapter 11   First Paycheck

Chapter 12   Why Not?

Chapter 13   Happy Birthday!

Chapter 14   Adopted

Chapter 15   Getting Too Comfortable

Chapter 16   Good Times In Arizona

Chapter 17   Homesick

Chapter 18   There Is No Going Back

INTRODUCTION

For eight years, I struggled to tell this story. I wanted to tell it, but unlike other stories I have wrote and will write of in the future, this one dwelled too deep on the personal side. Although this story tells of one’s journey-my journey-it involves the privacy of other people’s lives. Know this, I will never, ever write a book in the sake of embarrassing or trying to get back at others. I am not vindictive in that way.

However, I knew I had a story on me, and, even though, it involved other people’s privacy, I found out one day how you can tell a story, but not the whole story. Certain details that make up the fat of my journey can be cut off, never to grace these pages, without losing the spirit of this story. If whosoever wants to know, we can probably get together and have a private conversation over donuts and coffee (much to my liking, hot chocolate). When it comes to writing my own books, I am pretty selective of what I put out into the world, so when I am old and gray, I will look back and not regret writing and publishing material for the eyes of probably many beholders to read. Nevertheless, I wanted to tell this story because I thought it would have been such a tragedy to keep this to myself and not share.

What better time to tell this story while everything is still fresh than wait for more years to go by and regret not having to do so in the first place. So, I was going to tell the story, but it had to be the truth. No fabrication. Otherwise, after it had gotten written and published, I would not be able to look at it. This was my baby, and I had to bring it into this world right. If not, I would never pick it up and look at it again.

The question is, how? How can I tell the truth without embarrassing, exploiting and hurting other people? How can I avoid possibly not getting sued by slandering someone’s name? Upon reading biographical works from other authors, I found out that some of them play it safe by changing names. Simple.

On the contrary, towards the end of the eight years in me struggling to tell this story, it was almost endangered of never to get published. I called this the book that almost did not published. As much as it pains me, some characters in this story, some of whom I have loved and respected for years, are no longer in my life. Come the winds of change, I have lost some of these people to death and drama. Honestly, I went through a dark time in losing some of these people because I thought they would be in my life forever, and to be dismissed and ostracized the way I have been to some of those people, I really did not want to put the spotlight on my enemies, so to speak. Make no mistake, I have no lethal enemies-people I wished were dead, just a list of people that I can no longer be under the same roof with, in peace.

So, I withheld on finishing in writing my story and getting it published. Then one day, a voice sounded in my head, That is not fair! What is not fair? Now I have never been the kind of person who breaks up with someone, takes their picture of mine, tear it, burn it, shred it or crumble it. What did the picture do to you?

Just because you do not get along with that person anymore does not mean the picture should suffer cruel, unfair punishment. If anything, by me having a seen picture on the wall of someone I do not get along with anymore, I would remove it and place it in the back pages of my photo album, as I have done before. Years later, when I would open the photo album book and come across the picture, all hurt and resentment will be gone, and I will remember some of the good memories that person shared with me. Nevertheless, I wanted to tell an innocent, true story, capturing the gist of a silly, naive 21-year-old man’s journey from Jackson, Mississippi to Los Angeles, California, in the years of 2007 and 2008.

This is a story of love, friendship, ignorance, betrayal, maturity, independence, and self-confidence. On that note, I stand by this story, one I know for a surety that in much time after publication, I will not regret of sharing. Here it is-a story I struggled to put into words after eight years: To And From the West.

My full name is Kevin William Murphy. I was born at the Children’s Hospital, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, on February 25th, 1986, to the proud parents of George and Tammie Murphy. My nine-year-old big sister, LaNesia, took me under her wing. Two years later, my young sister, Ashley arrived.

Tragedy struck my family when I reached the age of five: my father died of liver cancer. My mother remarried a man named Ernie Holland, and my youngest sister, Alyssa, was welcomed into the family. When I reached the age of twelve, my mother divorced my stepfather, and she, my two young sisters and I moved down to Mississippi, in a rural town called McCool, to look after my great-grandmother (now deceased). A few months later, we settled in the capital of Mississippi, Jackson. A year or two later, my big sister, LaNesia, moved down with her future husband-to-be, my brother-in-law, Maurice, and her first son, my Arthur (now deceased). Soon, Maurice’s daughter from a previous relationship, Shantel, moved down, too. LaNesia and Maurice have two sons together, my nephews: Maurice Jr. and Maurion.

50824.png

CHAPTER 1

Locked In A Bird Cage

Curled in a fetal position in my queen-sized bed with a heavy, blue blanket covering my shoulders to my feet. I laid awake. The central A/C unit was on, and it was night. Right on. It is my ideal way of sleeping-but I could not sleep that night. I laid awake, thinking deeply.

On the surface, I had everything a man could want at the age of 21. I had my own apartment, my own car, and my own job. However, deep within, I was not happy-at all. When one of my cousins came to stay with me for a spell, she said upon walking inside for the first time, Ooh, Kevin, you got a nice place! You don’t have to want for nothin’!

It was nice to hear that comment, and to know once again that people have different perceptions.

You don’t have to work for nothin’! Such an understatement. I had things to suite my comfort-but I did not have everything, materially speaking. I did not care. I was comfortable with what I had, materially speaking.

Unlike some of my guy friends who scrap and strive to get better of everything, especially in electronics, I had old-fashioned, common stuff. The only time I would upgrade was when a particular item went out of business. For example, when they stopped making VCRs, I upgraded to DVD players. Speaking of VCRs, these days, if you want to purchase one, your best bet is to get one from Ebay. Hardly any electronic store has them on shelves anymore. You will pretty much see DVD and Blue-Ray players.

Do not get me wrong, I am fasinated by new technology, but being old-fashioned, I do not like putting up a fight with the world for discontinuing in making old things, forcing me to move on to new things. Nevertheless, the world is constantly changing, and many things are not going to last forever. Why should I be an exception? Heaven knows my family and I moved much throughout my childhood, and I spent time in trying to go journey back to the past, go back to places I called home. That really became the case in the year of 2005, when the notorious Hurricane Katrina hit the southern region of the United States, impacting mainly on Louisiana and Mississippi.

I was nineteen years old, living in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I had my own car, and I lived in a nice studio apartment, paying $295 for rent. I attended school at Pearl River Community College in Poplarville, which was half an hour away. I went to school during the day, and I worked as a delivery driver at a restaurant called Steak-Out five days a week. In all I had, I did not take anything for granted. I loved Hattiesburg, and my life revolved around it.

My lifetime plans were to attend Pearl River Community College, get my associate’s degree in Journalism, transfer to U.S.M (University of Southern Mississippi)-located in the center of Hattiesburg and very, very close in walking distance from my apartment-and then once I got my bachelor’s degree in Journalism, I was going to apply and work at the Hattiesburg American newspaper building, (located downtown) Mondays through Fridays, and travel on the weekends to Biloxi, New Orleans and other southern cities I adored. Those were my lifetime plans. Then in August of 2005, my life in Hattiesburg and my lifetime plans for Hattiesburg were all swept away when Hurricane Katrina touched land, leaving my life in absolute disarray.

Everything happened so quickly. Hurricane Katrina hit, the building of Steak-Out got destroyed, lost my job, Poplarville flooded, could not go back to Pearl River for a while, the electric pole to my apartment split into two. No job, out of school, no electricity-those three things were going through my head. No job, out of school, no electricity. In the mist of it all, my family and friends who reside in Jackson, Mississippi, nearly two hours, were persuading me to move there. I have always loved Hattiesburg but never cared for Jackson, only certain places within Jackson.

For anyone who has never been in Hattiesburg from my point of view, the atmosphere of the city is lovely. Everyone is nice, for the most part. I had more friends there than I made in Jackson. Unlike Jackson, which is very diversed in race, culture, and economical statuses, Hattiesburg provided more equality and unity. The population of Hattiesburg has just about the same number of whites and blacks. I am not saying racism is not an issue there because, as we know, that negative vice is everywhere. I am just saying that you see more blacks and whites walking together and holding hands together than you would in Jackson.

I also had other reasons why I disliked Jackson; however, I choose not to expand on them. Throughout my residing in Hattiesburg, my family and friends in Jackson constantly tried to persuade me to move back there, and I fought and fought to stay in Hattiesburg, but after Hurricane Katrina, I gave up on the fight and moved to Jackson. I deeply, deeply regretted that. My big sister, LaNesia, my brother-in-law, Maurice, and my nephews, Maurice Jr. and Maurion, welcomed me into their home in the south of Jackson, and I stayed with them for a few months, got a job at a loan office, and enrolled into Hinds Community College, located in Raymond, Mississippi. Major props to my big sister for doing some research online.

All I remember is, we were in the living room. I was playing with my nephews, my brother-in-law was watching TV, and she was on the computer, online. She asked for my checking account number, and I gave it to her without question. A few days later, after I had got out of school for the day, I drove to Sonic’s down the street from the campus. Before I placed an order, I called my bank to verify my balance in my checking account. The representative answered in a dry voice, Your balance is $2,020.00.

Did I hear her right? I asked her to repeat what she said. She did. I asked her to repeat it again. She did, sounding a little impatient.

There must be a mistake, I said. I never kept close to half a grand in my account. I mean, I’m happy to have that amount of money…but I don’t want to be in hot water with the IRS later.

Were you a victim of Hurricane Katrina, sir? The representative asked dryly.

Yes, ma’am.

Okay, F.E.M.A deposited $2,000.00 in your account for that.

I did not know what to say.

Will that be all, sir? asked the representative, sounding a little impatient again. I came back to my senses and said, Yes. Thank you.

Have a nice day, sir. She hung up. The excitement of hitting a jackpot hit me once I realized the $2,000.00 was mine and not a bank malfunction. If I remember correctly, that day, I pigged out at Sonic’s, burned $10 on food. When I finished, it felt like I had been yanked from Heaven back to reality.

The truth remained, I was still living with my big sister and my brother-in-law. Could not stay with them forever. Would not be fair to them and my nephews. So, within a week, I got an apartment on the north side of Jackson. My rent was $479, plus utilities. Of all the places I have stayed, this apartment remains one of my least favorites. The apartment complex had been in a neighborhood located directly near the I-55 Highway, behind a Chinese restaurant and a couple of plazas.

At that time, I found the neighborhood safe. It had its perks like any other place would, but I found that keeping to myself and not socializing with the other neighbors made my living there safer. There are several reasons why that apartment remains one of my least favorites. Number one was the maintenance. When I moved in, all doors to the apartment, except the front door, had no knobs. After reporting that issue to my rent manager, it took the maintenance girl three weeks to install the missing doorknobs-and she did not clean after herself!

Number two was the foundation of the apartment. Inside my bathroom, the ceiling above the tub slightly caved in. Everytime my upstair neighbor would take a bath or a shower, water would drizzle from the ceiling into my tub. I reported that to my rent manager, as well…but this issue was not resolved at all during my stay there! Number three was the neglectful attitude of the people who worked there. Your pleasure was not a duty to them. Their duty was to collect your rent. Bullshit.

I can say my taste in where I live has gotten better over the years. Before I settle in, not only do I check out every apartment, but I check out its location and its staff. Any place which offers a safe location and caring staff deserves my business; however, I was nineteen at the time, and I needed a place to stay. Need I mention that apartment was the only apartment I could find on the north side of Jackson that did not require you to be 21 years old. Nevertheless, the people who knew about my history from moving to Hattiesburg after Hurricane Katrina expressed their excitement for me.

The apartment, indeed, was a step up. I had no idea where I was going or who I wanted to be. I felt like a leaf floating down a stream, trying to cling unto something: In the midst of it all, my heart ached from leaving Hattiesburg. The hurricane may have damaged the Steak-Out building. There would not be any hope of restoring the restaurant because the building had got backed up on insurance claims. So, my future of working for Steak-Out in Hattiesburg had ended abruptedly, but had I stayed just a couple more days, I would have had a job, probably a better one.

As I drove down Highway 49, leaving the city I loved, I saw something I never thought I would see in my wildest dreams: just about every restaurant, every hotel, every gas station and every store had banners and billboards up, saying, NOW HIRING. It took every muscle in my body not to turn around and call the whole thing off, but I had a need to please. People in my inner circle had finally won the battle of me moving back to Jackson, including my best friend at the time, Darrell. I met Darrell in my freshman year at Pearl River Community College. He was my first roommate.

Although his major was auto mechanism and mine was Journalism, we hit it off and became close friends. This had been a great advantage for me because I got introduced and befriended some of his friends he had made the previous year he attended Pearl River. There was Al who studied auto mechanism with him, as well, and beside him, there was his girlfriend, Shauna. Shauna had a best friend named Angie. In the middle of the fall semester, Darrell had concluded his studies in auto mechanism and got his certificate. He moved to Jackson, lived with his older cousin, and got a job at the Mercedes Dealership. He would come visit me a few times on the weekends, and we would talk and chill out in the dorm room, watching TV, etc.

One weekend, when he came to visit me, he parked his car at the campus, and we drove my car to Columbia, right next door to Hattiesburg. He took the wheel as I sat in the passenger seat, considering I had no idea where we were going. The ride made me a little tired, so when we finally arrived in this rural neighborhood, I had nearly dozed off. Darrell parked outside this small house that had a screened porch. Getting out of the car, he met a small, light-skinned woman at the screen porch’s front door. They embraced and talked a little bit. Then he returned to my car with the small woman, and they sat in the backseat.

Moments later, the light-skinned woman’s twin came out of the house and sat in the driver’s seat.

This is my ex-roommate, Kevin, Darrell introduced me. Kevin, this is NeKesha…

He pointed to the woman in the driver’s seat. She smiled at me in a shy tone. Hello.

Hi, I responded back. Then I followed Darrell’s index finger to the woman in the backseat of whom he embraced. And this is LaKesha.

LaKesha wasted no time in talking to me. Hi, Kevin.

Hi.

Is this your car?

Yes.

OK. I was about to say, ‘When were you gonna tell me you got a new car, Darrell? She rounded on him. Darrell replied, saying something sarcastic in his usual way. Afterwards, he and LaKesha continued talking. I have never good with introductions. Never. But I tried to engage in a conversation with NeKesha.

Both of the twins were attractive women, and it became clear to me that this was a setup from Darrell. He like LaKesha, and in the back of his mind, I believed he wanted me to hook up with NeKesha. Like I said before, both of them were attractive women-but I had my boundaries that I chose not to cross. Before I was introduced to those women by Darrell, I heard stories of them-by a friend I got close with, after Darrell graduated and moved off campus to Jackson. His name was Lonnie, and he lived in Columbia, not too far from the twins.

I had no idea Darrell and Lonnie had a history together-an unpleasant history together, that is. Before I stepped foot on the Pearl River Community College campus, Darrell and Lonnie liked the same woman: LaKesha. LaKesha became close with Darrell, and this angered Lonnie, causing him to have resentment for Darrell. So, when I appeared on the scene and blindly became friends with Lonnie after Darrell left, Darrell did not like that at all. I told him countless times he was my best friend and Lonnie was just a close friend of mine. However, I was thought of as a traitor, but I did not let his judgement bother me much.

I knew the truth, and besides, Lonnie was best friends with this guy named Joey, who was a year or two older than me. He was light-skinned and about the same height as me. Mutual friends around us said we were twins, and because he attended Pearl River a semester before me, they called me Joey’s twin. I did not care about that nickname. I liked Joey.

Oddly, we shared more than our physical qualities. Like me, he was laid-back and quiet, and Lonnie and Darrell were the talkative, more outgoing ones. You would think if Lonnie and Darrell not had a history of liking the same woman, they could have hit it off as being good friends, just like Joey and I could have hit it off as being good friends, but obviously, it was not to be. I guess just like it is in relationships, opposites attract-but do they last?

LaKesha and NeKesha did not stay in my car long. NeKesha got tired and started back towards their house. I said goodbye to her, and a little later, Darrell walked LaKesha back to their house, hand in hand. It was nice to finally meet those women and put a face to the stories I heard. If I am not mistaken, on the way back to the Pearl River campus with Darrell driving, I sat in the passenger seat with my arms folded. My perception of Darrell changed. It went from being Oh, he’s the greatest thing since sliced bread to Oh…he’s not that innocent.

You do realize Lonnie is chasing her, too, I asked coldly. To be honest, I was not happy about the Darrell-LaKesha relationship. I cared for Darrell and Lonnie, and I did not want this to escalate into something big like a fight. I did not want to be forced to take sides; however, something inside me said I would not have to worry about the situation. We were all adults, and this situation will blow out in the future. So, when Darrell replied with the callous comment, I don’t care, I dropped it. We did not speak for the rest of the ride back to the campus.

That fall semester of my freshman year, when Darrell graduated, so did Joe. Lonnie had finished a trade and gone back to study another. To Darrell’s displeasure, I spent more time with Lonnie between classes, I became friends with his cousins, who were also sisters, Falon and Terri. Both, if I am not mistaken, were a couple of years older than me. I met Falon through Lonnie immediately, and we developed a quick friendship.

It is interesting how I met Terri. I did not meet her through Falon. I met her in the middle of my second semester at Pearl River through the worst roommate anyone could ever have. His name was Antwon, and he was the complete opposite of me in every way. Let me give you a brief history of Antwon. He had five children, and his grandparents paid for him to go to school at Pearl River.

He snuck girls in and out of our dorm room. When he moved in, I spent more time outside of the dorm, away from him. Because Darrell was nearly two hours away, I turned to Lonnie for support. The only thing I do not regret in being roommates with Antwon was meeting Terri. Antwon knew I was single, so one night, after I took a shower and got in bed, he talked to a woman named Sherette over his cell phone. He asked her if she could hook me up with a woman she knew, and she obliged.

Moments later, he handed me his cell phone, and I was on three-way with Sherette and-after she introduced me-Terri. Both of them were nice to me and gave me the 411 about Antwon, like how he had five children by different baby mamas, how his grandparents paid his child support, so he could go to school at Pearl River, and, what made me feel sick to my stomach, how he did not even care about children. They meant nothing to him. Sherette wanted to talk back to Antwon, so I gave Terri my cell phone number to call me, and we could finish our conversation. At no time to lose, she called me. Because I was born from Wisconsin with a proper Yankee tongue, I remember her asking me over and over again, Are you sure you’re not a white guy?

The first time she asked me that, I laughed and replied, No, but why you ask me that?

You talk proper.

Is that a bad thing?

No, you’re just the first guy I talked to with a proper accent.

We talked until I got too quiet.

Are you tired? she asked.

Sorry. I opened my eyes at the sound of her voice in my ear. I’m falling asleep.

Then go to sleep.

We said our goodbyes, and I got off the phone with her. That night, I slept well with the thought of me hooking up with a woman I did not even know over the phone. Within a couple of weeks of talking over the phone, I went to Buffalo Wild Wings with my cousin. Lonnie, Falon and Terri were there, as well, sitting on the other side of the restaurant. I split my time eating and watching the game with my cousin, along with some of her friends who met up with us there, and sat at the booth with Lonnie, Falon and Terri, talking and drinking.

I was finally able to put a face and a body to Terri’s voice. She was able to put a face and a body to my Are you sure you’re not a white guy? proper voice. We had good chemistry…but I felt we were different. Then a week later, she met up with me outside of my dorm room. She came at the perfect time, too. It had been around six or seven o’ clock, the sun setting in the West, and many of the college students had gone for the day. The campus police were not out yet patrolling the grounds, too.

At the time, the front entrance to my dorm building was under construction, so everyone who resided on the first floor in the building had to exit the back entrance. My dorm room was the first room on the left when you entered the rear entrance. Near the rear entrance, Terri and I had sat on a white brick wall that divided the grounds of my dorm building from the grounds of the alumni building. Temptation almost had me. By the way things were going between me and Terri, I could have gotten lucky that day. I wanted her badly-but, unfortunately, it did not go that way.

We just stayed outside, sitting on the white brick wall and talked. Unlike our previous conversations we had, this one had too many long silent gaps in between. I knew we were different. She was a woman who talked with a slang accent, she did not have any plans on bettering herself in the future, and she smoked, too. I was a man who talked with a proper Yankee accent, had many plans on bettering myself in the future, and I did not smoke.

Our differences really became acute that day. After an odd, strange, long gap of silence, she said, I like you a lot…but we’re not compatible.

I did not know what the word compatible meant, so she gave me a nice definition lesson. We don’t go together. We’re different.

I stiffly nod my head. I knew exactly what she meant. Then she told me that I was a great guy and there are many women out there who would love to have a man like me. She asked if we could remain friends. I said yes. If I remember correctly, we hugged, said our goodbyes, and she walked away.

Compared to other breakups I had then and after, that breakup went smoothly. I felt sadness, and I am sure she felt it, too, but there were no animosity and resentment involved. Nevertheless, my breakup with Terri became a lesson and an example of how I will only date whoever I had much in common, so I would never have that We’re not compatible talk again. As for Terri, it was not the last time I saw her. Of all our differences, we had one thing in common that we liked, and we decided to do the friends-with-benefits thing for a spell…but that is a different story.

When the summer hit, I got a nice studio apartment in Hattiesburg, just walking distance from the University of Southern Mississippi, and I had a cool job as a delivery driver at this restaurant called Steak-Out. When I got my apartment, I saw less of Lonnie…less of LaKesha and NeKesha…and less of Falon. Nothing personal. My off-the-campus life, living in Hattiesburg, commuting back and forth to Pearl River, conflicted my availability with theirs. Darrell called me every week, and as usual, we had conversations over the phone from night to early morning. He even came to visit me one weekend.

Despite of Darrell, Lonnie, Falon, LaKesha and NeKesha, I had great times in Hattiesburg, even without my other friends. Most of my fun came from chilling in my apartment, watching cable TV and pigging out of my refrigerator. I moved into my apartment at the beginning of May and lived there until the end of August, when Hurricane Katrina hit land. That notorious natural disaster flooded Pearl River, destroyed the Steak-Out building, and broke in half the electric pole that provided electricity to my apartment campus. So, I could not go to school, I lost my job, and I had no electricity to flip my lights on, turn the A/C on, watch my cable TV, and take a hot shower.

Immediately, after Hurricane Katrina, again my family and Darrell in Jackson were in my ear, and this time, with much displeasure, I gave in. My heart ached terribly as I drove my car filled with my stuff from Hattiesburg to Jackson and seeing all of the Now Hiring billboards and posters on Highway 49 did not help at all. It made it worse! I am talking about every restaurant, every motel and every hotel on Highway 49 were hiring. I never saw anything like that before. Honestly, it took everything within me not to turn my car around and tell everyone in Jackson that I changed my mind-but, no, I knew then that there were people who relied on me to keep my promise.

Like I said before, I did not like Jackson. Since Darrell moved there, I felt that it kind of sweetened the pot. Darrell was excited. He hastily told me that when I moved there, we were going to have much fun together, and foolishly, I believed him. I stayed with my big sister, my brother-in-law, and my nephews for a few months. Within that space of time, I got a job at a loan company called Tower Loan. Then I moved into that poor excuse of an apartment on the northside of Jackson.

Darrell worked at the Mercedes car dealership, just a few blocks from my apartment. I enrolled and went to school at Hinds Community College. I attended classes during the day and worked at Tower Loan in the evening. Later, I quit Tower Loan and started work at the Steak-Out in Jackson as a delivery driver. Do not ask me why I did not transfer from the one in Hattiesburg to Jackson immediately after Hurricane Katrina. I guess I wanted to work somewhere different for a change.

David was the store manager of Steak-Out. He ran that restaurant during the day. (I liked him, but, thankfully, since I worked the evening shifts, we never clashed because of his uptight nature and obsessive compulsive disorder personality-and me being the polar opposite.) The shift managers were Brian, Bill and Ron. Of all the several delivery drivers, I was the youngest…

Compared to the Hattiesburg Steak-Out Restaurant before the hurricane destroyed it forever, the Steak-Out in Jackson received more business because Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, made Hattiesburg look like a subdivision. More business meant better tips for us delivery drivers. On average nights, I would walk out of the store with $40 in tips. (Some nights, more money.) Just imagine making that kind of money every night of the month that you work. My tips pretty much paid my bills, that by the time I would get my bi-weekly checks, they were like pocket change.

Darrell lived with his older cousin, fifteen minutes away from his job. Being a good friend, I