Loving Jamey Green

Chapter 1

Fuck. I’m in really deep shit now. Not only am I unemployed (which happened as of two months ago when I cussed out a customer on the job at the local Richardson’s grocery store), but I also don’t have a place to call home. My parents literally barged into my room and told me to get out of the house after getting into a heated argument with them. That’s what really went down. I tried reasoning with them like I always do when this happens, but I obviously failed at that. I was forced to pack a bag and get out of the house. I even remember the last thing I said to mom and dad in the midst of my enraged state--”go fuck yourselves!”

I have walked for a while as I cried like the little bitch that I am. I hate crying. It’s a sign of weakness, and I try my hardest to mask that in various ways, despite not seeming like that type; after all, I am just a scrawny emo kid with long hair and crippling depression, as well as anxiety. I ended up taking a break on a bench at a local park not far from my house; I don’t have a car due to my laziness to get a license and slacking in saving up for a vehicle. Now my dumb ass has to pay the consequences and suffer in the chilly spring weather. I struggled to keep warm as I kept my body curled up in a not-so-warm ball on the bench. Where the hell was I gonna go? Due to my depression and lack of social skills, I barely have any friends I can turn to and ask to move in with til I can figure out what the hell I’m gonna do. The only friend I can think of is my bandmate Cambriel Sterling (our band calls him Cam for short), who has been my best friend since fourth grade. He’s the lead singer and lead guitarist in this band we have called The Master of the Wicked; I play rhythm guitar. The origin behind that band name is simple--Cam insisted we call ourselves that, and wouldn’t go into any detail. The reason why is beyond me. We do covers of songs; we don’t have any of our own original material. We usually play at clubs and hookah lounges. Anyway, Cam is the kind of guy that girls would love to hate. Why? Well, that’s easy to answer--he’s your typical player. He’s attractive, charismatic (I mean hell, he’s a lead singer in a band), and cocky. He goes from one girl to another repeatedly and so fast it’ll make your head spin. But he’s still my best friend. What still boggles my mind to this day is how our personalities click with each other. We’re basically polar opposites--he’s straight, and I’m bisexual. He’s outgoing and an avid partygoer, and I’m shy and socially awkward. He likes all meat on his pizza, and I like all veggies. He’s dominantly into black metal, while I primarily listen to alternative rock. Cam has an apartment across town and works two part-time jobs--one at a pizza joint called Francisco’s Pizza Shack, and another at a hardware store called Steele’s. He’s been living there on his own for a couple of years. Maybe I can crash at his place for a while til I figure out what the hell I’m gonna do. Besides, Cam has always been more than generous in letting me stay over at his place when he lived with his dad; his mom passed away fighting pancreatic cancer when Cam was fifteen, which was one of the only times I saw him cry. I’m sure Cam would let me stay with him for a while. I don’t see why not. I pulled out my cell phone with a cracked screen and dialed in Cam’s number. He answered on the second ring.

"What’s up, bitch?” he asked playfully.
   
“Hey, Cam. I got a favor to ask you. I’m kinda in a bit of a situation,” I replied, laughing a little, ironically.

“What’s that?”

“Can I stay at your place? I don’t have anywhere to go,”

“Sure, you can come over. What happened? Your folks kicked you out?” Cam asked, genuine concern laced in his voice.

“I’ll explain when I get there. I’m at the park near my house right now. Can you pick me up?”

“Of course. Just give me some time to get ready. I just got outta the shower. I’ll be over there soon,”

“Thanks, Cam. I knew I could count on you,” I smiled sadly.

“Hey, what can I say? Just trying to be a pal. See you soon, Max,”