Late 2003 found me hard up in North Highlands, a divey little burb on the fringes of Sacramento, CA. In many ways, I myself, was a lot like North Highlands at the time. Rough and misguided, with a ton of potential but had instead settled into a seemingly inescapable rut. Also prone to violence, scathing and unapologetic, and not just a little bit ghetto. Yes, North Highlands was all of those things, as was I.
My one redeeming quality is that I've always been the ambitious, hardworking sort, despite the fact that fortune seems to have it in for me. That said, many of the locals who wiled away their days skylarking about on the blocks between my apartment and the liquor store I frequented were surprised that I was able to find work so soon after moving to the area. Especially since I had managed to land what many of them considered a plumb job working the line at a local pizza joint known for having a great selection of ice cold suds and the King's game on a big screen TV for all to enjoy. You'll have to forgive me for not mentioning the name of the place but since every word of what I'm about to tell you is a true story, I want to keep things nice and legal. I might even modify the names a little so nobody thinks this story is about them. There, disclaimer made.
I had actually landed the job through a recent acquaintance named Adam who saw that like himself I was just another able young man down on my luck. He convinced the overbearing, shrewish owner of the place to give me a chance and I tried hard not to disappoint. The job paid fuck all, but I was glad for it and could certainly think of worse jobs which paid less. God knows, I'd held them before.
Once I began working at the pizza place Adam introduced me to another employee Tommy who happened to be one of his lifelong pals. Tommy and I seemed to hit it off from the jump and soon we were getting together after work to smoke blunts and pound cheap beer and slightly more expensive malt liquor on a regular basis.
We generally convened these sessions at Tommy's place. He was 19 or 20 to my 21 years and still lived at home with his family which consisted of his single father Ted, a paraplegic who had been bedridden since injuring himself in a diving accident many years before, and Ted's brother Dutch who cared for Ted seemingly from the comfort of a couch I can't recall seeing him away from in the many times I visited. I never did understand why they called him Dutch given the family's Portuguese heritage but figured it was just a nickname, perhaps one earned during his Airforce days of which he was intensely proud.
Also present were Tommy's older sister Donna, her husband Steve, and their infant daughter, and Tom's little bro Andy. Rounding out the roster was Tommy's younger sister Melanie, a precocious minx a few years Tommy's junior with all the most favorable features afforded by her Portuguese roots and the radiance of oncoming womanhood to boot. She seemed intent on making me blush (or getting me locked up, still not sure which really) by audaciously flirting with me to the point where Tommy had to dismiss her from our presence several times because "the vapors" were just too strong.
Add to this motley mix a ragtag assortment of North Highland's least notable who also seemed to be constantly hanging around the overpopulated four bedroom home and you'll have a good idea of the scene on a daily basis, indeed of many home life scenes of the North Highlands area.
One character you could count on being about most nights was Tommy's cousin DC.
LIke myself, DC was of Spanish descent and had the requisite machismo our people have long been both hailed and reviled for. He had a fiery personality and shifty eyes that gave you the impression that he was just waiting for some shit to jump off. I can't say whether DC was ever packing heat, although many in North Highlands did, but he carried himself in a way that made you wonder. We got along famously.
And like smoke follows fire, DC's conflagrant personality was usually closely trailed by his smoking hot girlfriend Kelly. This story is really about her.
Now I've read a ton of dirty stories but none my friend, however adept the author may be, have ever helped me to conjure up the image of a creature as drop dead gorgeous as Kelly was. Trust me when I tell you this girl was an angel. The light in her sapphire blue eyes even managed to illuminate the dismal room where Tommy, DC, myself, and the rest of our hoodrat friends congregated to swill cheap booze and post up.
Kelly had what I would describe as a heart shaped but still pixie like face, rosy and full of life with a cute button nose and wavy sandy blonde hair she usually kept in a messy bun. She had a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her deeply red lips swelled toward the middle, invitingly so. Her body was lean and smartly proportioned. In another life she could have been a model or better. Instead, she'd had the misfortune to be born amongst the dregs and that's undoubtedly how she came to find herself associated with the likes of us.
Now I'll admit that at the time my world was generally a haze of Olde English and chronic smoke, set to a Cypress Hill soundtrack, but even now in moments of much greater clarity I must admit that Kelly is still one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met in person. Even now as a renowned photographer who commonly does lingerie shoots for men's magazines. She just had that unidentifiable "it" factor that propels some to stardom.
No, I don't really think that the written word can really do justice to a girl like Kelly. Not even if I tell you that she had firm B cup titties that she generally displayed in a spaghetti strap tank top and a round pert little ass she regularly highlighted with booty shorts. Even then you'd have to see her to believe, and once you did you would be a faithful convert.
Her most enduring quality however was that somehow she had come through all the economic adversity unsullied by the harsh realities of poverty. She had a purity about her which while certainly not virginal was clean and refreshing. Perhaps it was her open, friendly nature and a zeal for life the rest of us lacked which set her apart. The striking dissimilarity in character between her and DC could well have been the basis for tales such as Beauty and The Beast. But hey, good girls like bad boys. It's a fact.
Another fact: despite DC's menacing presence I was hooked on Kelly. If I'm honest with myself, probably the biggest reason I hung out at Tommy's was because I knew she'd be around. When you live in the "High" you learn to lower your expectations, but for me at least, spending time around Kelly was one bright spot I could bank on.
Now, Kelly was young (legal but just so) and relatively innocent, but her outgoing friendly nature could be and often was misread by the horndogs around the area as being flirtatious. Still, that didn't stop me from perceiving that I was somehow different though. When we would chat I would feel like all of her attention was on me, and at those times I felt special. I felt important. Big of an idiot as I was though, I was careful not to overstep my bounds because I wanted our friendship to continue if not grow. Also, I genuinely liked DC and he seemed to trust me with her up to a point. After many months of continued friendship with both of them he even reached a point where he was comfortable leaving us alone together in a room. I appreciated the vote of confidence and really didn't want to be a shit friend, but my youthful hormones could not allow me to look past the fact that Kelly was an absolute knockout. I was constantly horny for her.
