Evidence

Liquor Store

Christmas Day, 2008

Traditionally, Christmas is celebrated with family and friends, and is a time to come together.  Cookies, the smell of pine, feel-good movies, and gifts. Instead, I find myself faced with the stench of an undetectable grimy odor as I step out of my car. The street is visibly dirty, and I swear there's more shit on the sidewalk than in the sewer. I could hardly believe that my client, the one who once had so much pride in himself, had put himself in such a sketchy living situation. It soon dawned on me that I was not sure what I was looking for, there were no buildings around that looked like an apartment. There wasn't a building in a 10 mile radius that looked suitable to live in. I would ask him, but for weeks now his phone has gone straight to voicemail. The only reason I got this far was because I was able to get in contact with his realtor, the one who helped him find this place.

The address she gave me took me to a disheveled little liquor store that looked like it housed every junkie in Los Angeles, the walls were peeling on the outside, and the red store sign failed to light up. I had no choice but to walk in and ask if I had the right place.

My body seemed to reject the idea of walking towards the doors, but I pushed through despite my instincts. My feet carried me to the counter, where I waited for the cashier to be done with the customer ahead of me. As he walked out with his items in a bag, I approached the little less than young man. He was not as intimidating as his workplace, he stood at about 5'10 and had thin curly hair, dyed brown.

Before I could open my mouth, he opened his.

"Hey, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for some apartments, I don't think this is the right place. My client has gone awol so, I'm here to administer a wellness check on this fine Christmas morning. Could you point me in the right direction?"

"Oh, you mean that vampy guy down the hall? He rents an apartment here." He pointed around the corner behind him, "I'm glad someone's here to see him, honestly he strikes me as a little lonely."

I sighed a little under my breath, disappointed with the realization he had direct access to a liquor store, "That's him. Thank you so much, really. Merry Christmas." I tapped the counter in front of me, and made my way down the yellowing hallway.

My stomach churned as I stood in front of the apartment door, not really knowing what I was about to step into. As long as I've known Manson, I've gathered enough information about him to know that he does not handle difficult situations well. And knowing he has been faced with a multitude of different situations in such a short amount of time did not ease my stomach.

I raised my hand and did my best to knock in the least authoritative way I could. I heard what sounded like panicked shuffling a few seconds later, met with a crash and a bang. I jumped involuntarily at the noise, as the door swung open to reveal a sleep deprived, hungover, shell of the man I knew. I took notice of the pitch blackness he seemed to blend into.

He squinted at the 'brightness' of the flickering light in the hall, "Hello?"

"Brian, can you please explain to me where in the fuck we are right now?"

"...My apartment?" He shrugged, reaching out of view to grab his Blue Moon beer and grinned as he took a gulp of it.

I reached into his apartment and gently peeled each one of his prying fingers off of the beer, tightening my grip on it as I took it away from him. I watched his brow bone furrow. "It's 10 AM, this should not be happening. This is low, even for you." I did my best to soften the blow, "I'm coming in."

"No." I watched as he pushed the door closed, allowing only enough room for me to be able to see his face. "I don't want anyone in here. We can talk like this." He went quiet for a few seconds, "How the fuck did you find me?"