Jackie.

[deadsliez1]

 

JACKIE

By deadsliez1

 

Note:

 

I'm not the best writer in the world. Please give feedback for how I can improve my writing. If I made alot of mistakes, don't point it out in a hasty way, just tell me how to improve. If you like the short story, I'll keep making different parts of this, but lets see how this goes. One more thing, if you don't know the places labeled in this, they are various areas in the Los Angeles area.

 

 

 

 

Jackson began to sweat from the lobes of his forehead, simultaneously glancing at Martin' s lap and back.

"I'm gunna' need you to help me with something Jackie. I gotta' go to-a deal, need an extra guy."

Jackson slowly nodded his head, shrugging his shoulders along with the nod. Martin quickly caught on to his expression. "You feelin' alright, kid?" The Merit parked in an secluded area, in some sort of underground parking spot. Jackson nodded once again in a very edgy manner, at that time, starting to mumble a quiet Italian stated prayer that his mother used to bless him with.

Martin again, caught onto the act, making an attempt to ease the young man down. "Listen kid, Steve tells me you're doing good. Y'know, sooner or later, you'll be working for me, definitly earned it."

Jack shrugs his shoulders, wiping the bit of sweat off his facial area - almost in relief. He slowly turned his head to Martin. "Really?" He formed a wide grin. "That's all I wanted since I was fifteen." Martin gave a couple of nods, as suddenly a black van pulled through the back of the car.

Martin exited the vehicle, "That's my guy." Jackson nodded, showing a bit of liberation as he followed Martin. He eyed the masked dealer from the van, he was wearing a jumpsuit with a bandana over his head.

"Hey, how you doin'?" Martin greeted the man.

"Doing good, doing good." The voice sounded awfully familiar. "So, you got the sh*t?"

Martin nodded, "Two, right?"

The recognizable man averted his gaze to Jackson for a deep moment, as Jackson expanded his eyeballs. The masked man reached into his jacket..

 

 

 

About seven years earlier.

 

 

 

 

It was like any other Saturday. Get up, brush my teeth, kiss my ma', and get annoyed by the ni**ers in my nieghborhood. Some sorta' Crip bullsh*t, I'dunno. My whole nieghborhood is whacky. Even the next door nieghbors of my apartment, they all got some f*ckin' problems, I'dunno. I consider myself wierd as well. I'm like the poorest one in my school - you know what - scratch that. I'm the poorest white kid in my school. I live with my ma', and that's about it. Anyways, the problem is I've been wantin' this XB 200. Some electronic scooter thing that a buncha' my friends got. They were makin' a special discount on the first day, so my poor ass had to get it now if anything. Since I'm in highschool now, I gotta' impress the cheerleaders, y'know? I live in the Saint Boulivard apartment complex, I walked out of the building, and a bunch of these African-Americans walk up to me. They're familiar. They all go to my school, just a bunch of dumbasses. Kids that become wanna-be gangsters, rob cars, and break into hovels, thinkin' that they're all bosses. So I walked out, and the three dickheads surrounded me as I just placed my foot on the sidewalk. They secluded me in a triangle on all sides, like f*ckin' pinball.

 

"Yo' nigga, empty yo' pockets."

I just made a confused face, I was like, "What the hell?"

The other one just said, "Empty yo' pockets nigga."

 

The fat one behind me pulled out a knife. No way was I gonna' give them sh*t. I needed to buy that f*ckin' scooter today, I dealed with these guys before. I really don't think they'll f*ckin' stab me. However, I never dealt with 'em with a a knife. So what did I do? Punched the fat one in the face and scramed to my bike. The f*ckin' two guys ran after me, and if they did catch up to me, I would've been dead. Not to worry though, they wear baggy ass pants, with various medallions over top of their necks. If they ran they'd be the equavilant to f*ckin' Fat Albert. I am the quarter back of the Freshman football team, with decent f*cking clothing on. No way they could catch me.

 

I passed through Compton - thank God - on my bike, without the Mexicans' bothering me at all. They usually don't but they just stare, and here came my favorite part of the trip. Passing through the Inglewood parking lot area. But not just to see dozens of crazy-whacko people that talk randomly aside eachother for no aparent reason because they had nothing better to do, yet to view Tony's. A bar right next to the parking lot. I love that place like anything, not the bar, just the people around it. Classy guys with hot cadillacs, most of them were wearing track jackets and elegant-wear. I always tried to imitate them too. When they talk to eachother, and shake around their hands while they talk, I did the same as I continued to ride on my bike. But after I passed them it was the same old LA. Mexis' and Blacks. They were the only group of whites in the whole area, but yet, nobody f*cked with them. Nobody even bothered to talk with them, or annoy them. Looked to me if they were untouchable. What can I say? They looked badass. The guys over there are, and were Italian. My ma's Sicilian, I'dunno about my dad but I heard he was Sicilian as well. I little mini-Italian community ove' there. Though, I'm American, my ma' always said to try to stick around other Italian people. Unfortunatley in my highschool, not much to go around.

 

I kept riding my bike for the longest time, I pedaled past Inglewood gas station all the way up to the LAPD place. And you know what happens? A classic bike story, the tire gets caught in a gapping crack in the street. So, my tire's all f*cked up, along with my bike, I glared at my watch. I had to get from Pershing Square, to the f*ckin' dealership. So I ran. As I said before, I'm the Freshman quarterback. Now, you won't believe how long I ran for, I didn't even keep track, but when I slowed down and started to breathe hard as hell, I looked up. There was a man with a baseball cap sitting right on the bench, staring at me. He wore a leather jacket and some khaki pants. The guy was big, looked as though he could've been a football player.

 

I didn't follow that stranger-danger bullsh*t, so I said, "Hi."

He gave me a simple nod. Talking in a deep voice after a couple seconds. "Where you runnin' to kid?"

I kept on panting, trying to pronounce the words out of my mouth. "Eh'.. d-dealership."

The man leaned back against the bench. "Why you goin' there for?"

I sniffled, finally regaining breath. "N-need to get the XB 200 - yeah."

"Well Jesus, the dealerships' far off, lemme give you a ride."

 

Now, it's a wierd thing I said yes, because you never know, I could-a got raped up the ass by this guy, but I said yes. The man had a white Vincent, looked nice and sleet. I got in, getting to know him as he drove me there.

"So what's your name?" I asked.

He replied without motion, "Just call me Steve -- What about you kid?"

"Jack Laudicino, sir."

He bobbed his head. For some reason, the names were the end of the conversation. The guy wasn't a talker, but when he did talk, he seemed alright.

We got to the dealership, I ran inside because I knew the line was gonna be long as hell. And what do y'f*ckin' know? The dealer said I need get a permit in order to get the scooter. It's a f*ckin' scooter for crying out loud. I got outside, all dissapointed because I thought Steve was gonna be pissed at me for waisting his time. So, I told him the news.

"Mmm, that's bullsh*t," Stephen stated.

I nodded along. A couple minutes went by. Steve made a wise-crack look.

"This is what I can do for ya'."

Stephen led me to his Vincent again. I had no idea what was going on, just goin' with the flow.

 

Steve took me to his house all the way in Palamino Creek, we got there in no-time because there wasn't traffic. He took me into his living room, and made me wait. I sat there for like fourty-five f*ckin' minutes. I seriously thought he was in the other room jerking off. The guy came back, with a damn card in his hand. I was like, "What the hell's that?"

Stephen looked at me with his same expression, no emotion. "It's a license."

Can you believe that? The guy f*ckin' /made/ me a license. At the time, i was confused as hell. "W-what?"

"What do you mean 'what', just take the license."

I mean-.. I definitly knew what he did was illegal, though I didn't care. "Jeez', thanks Steve!" I shouted.

 

Stephen, being himself, wasn't cheery at all, but appreciative. He got me down to the dealership again, this time, I managed to get a different dealer since the other one said I was under-aged.

"Y-you're eighteen?" said the dealer as he concentrated on the license card.

I stood confidently, nodding along. "Yes, sir."

He looked at me with a dull expression, completely aware I wasn't that old. Stephen was also looking at the dealer, he was behind me, looking through the glass entrance. I saw him from the mini-mirror on the car dealer's desk. He made the most devious face at the dealer, the most scarriest sh*t I've seen. Like I mean, a stare like that could've been compared to SAW. It was funny. All the dealer did was gulp, and nod furrociously. "He-here kid! Take the ride, take the ride!" He gave me the keys.

 

Me and Stephen stayed outside the dealership for a while, talking - with my new ride along side me.

"Thanks for everything Steve, you're really cool," I said to him.

"Don't worry about it kid. Here.." Stephen reached into his pocket, pulling out a number and passing it along to me. "Call me tomarrow. You seem worthy kid. Most little pricks would've hadda' heart-attack knowing that I gave you the little.." he nudges his head at the license card. "No, but you. You ain't like that. You wanna earn some nice cash? You come see me."

 

I grinned. "Where should I meet you at tomarrow, if I lose your number or anything?"

"Mmm, come to Tony's." Stephen continued to talk but I couldn't believe it. I was talking to one of the guys from f*ckin' Tony's. Un-f*ckin'-believable. I felt like I had an angel on my shoulder, that gave me good luck. For the scooter, and now for this. We said our goodbyes and what not, and I just rode along home, not knowing what to expect tomarrow. Who am I gonna meet? What's gonna happen?

 

[AceRay]

Just a grammar note, but the text being aligned in the centre is very unpleasant to read. The English-reading eye is attuned to scanning a page left-to-right-then-down-a-line, so it becomes hard to find the next line and therefore takes much longer and is more tiring on the eyes to read when the beginning of the next line isn't on the far left. Unless you're writing poetry, keep it on the left. In fact, grammar is a bit shaky throughout the whole thing, with there being a few spelling errors and you overuse commas when you shouldn't (they don't follow conjunctions like "but" or "and").

 

And I am also confused whether this is GTA world or the real world. It takes place in Los Angeles but there's cars from IV. If its set in the real world, the Merit should be changed to Chevrolet Impala and the Vincent to a Mitsubitsi Galant, just fyi.

 

Onto to the story! Its a basic criminal origin story, which are done all the time over here (well, it is GTAForums, I suppose). I hope you have something new and interesting to spin this story and make it stand out from the crowd. The main character's tone was very casual, which I suppose isn't a bad thing but you definitely overdo it on occasion when you say "And I was like." or something to that extent. You also keep switching between calling the mob guy Steve and Stephen and that was definitely distracting.

 

I await the second chapter intently. There are a few mistakes here and there but if you clean that up, you could have something that's interesting in this.

Edited October 8, 2012 by AceRay

[Mokrie Dela]

Some good words from aceray, especially about the formatting; keep it to the left

 

My biggest problem with this work however is the tense

 

You start off in past tense but end up switching to present tense. It's an easy mistake to make and easy to fix

 

Example: Martin again, caught onto the act, making an attempt to ease the young man down. "Listen kid, Steve tells me you're doing good. Y'know, sooner or later, you'll be working for me, definitly earned it."

Jack shrugs his shoulders, wiping the bit of sweat off his facial area - almost in relief. He slowly turned his head to Martin. "Really?" He formed a wide grin. "That's all I wanted since I was fifteen." Martin gave a couple of nods, as suddenly a black van pulled through the back of the car.

 

The first paragraph you say 'caught' - the past tense version of catches

Then the second paragraph you say 'shrugs' the presenttense version of shugged

 

I have realised that one proof read is often not enough

I try to do one proof read to check for spelling and grammar and another to check for perspective and tense.

 

It's often hard to stick to one tense, even more experienced writers fall for that (ironically my iPhone autocorrected that to 'fell')

 

Other than that I'm not seeing too much that sets this apart from the rest. Yet