It's funny how quickly you can get used to something you never imagined being part of your life.
A few months earlier, Dre was just somebody I knew. Somebody I'd hang around with, smoke with, ride around with, and occasionally get into some shit with. Now I was seeing the dude almost every day. We worked together, ate lunch together, and spent half our evenings hanging around my house.
Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling unusual.
It just became life.
The alarm went off at five-thirty that morning, and I swear I'd only been asleep for about twenty minutes.
I reached over and slapped the clock until it shut up.
"Jesus Christ," I mumbled.
Crystal rolled over beside me, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders.
"You gotta get up already?"
"Unfortunately."
"What time is it?"
"Five-thirty."
She groaned and buried her face in the pillow.
"That's disgusting."
"Tell me about it."
I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, rubbing my eyes and trying to convince myself that having a job was worth getting out of a warm bed.
Crystal reached over and rubbed my back.
"You working with Dre again?"
"Yeah. Pretty much every day now."
"He's actually sticking with it, huh?"
"Surprisingly."
She laughed.
"Well, good for him."
I looked back at her.
"Saying something nice about Dre?"
"Don't start."
"I'm just saying."
"I never said I hated him, Jay. I just don't like some of the shit you two get into."
"We don't get into anything."
She gave me that look.
The one that said she wasn't stupid, and I wasn't nearly as convincing as I thought I was.
"Okay," she said.
That was one thing I'd started noticing about Crystal since she'd moved back in. She wasn't asking as many questions as she used to.
At first, I thought maybe she'd finally decided to trust me.
Looking back, I think she was just getting tired of hearing answers she didn't believe.
Either way, I wasn't complaining.
By six-fifteen, I was sitting in my car outside Dre's place, watching the headlights illuminate the front of the building.
I gave the horn a quick tap.
Nothing.
I waited another minute.
Still nothing.
I pulled out my phone and called him.
"Yo."
"Dude, where the fuck you at?"
"I'm coming, JC."
"You said that ten minutes ago."
"Nah, I said I'd be ready in ten minutes."
"That was twenty minutes ago."
He started laughing.
"Man, quit crying. I'm coming."
I hung up.
Five minutes later, he finally came walking out, carrying a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
He climbed into the passenger seat like he didn't have a care in the world.
"Morning, sunshine."
"Fuck you."
He laughed and took a sip of his drink.
"Somebody woke up mad."
"Somebody's gonna get us fired."
"Nah, they need us."
"They need me. You're the new guy."
"Man, whatever."
I pulled away from the curb.
Dre leaned his seat back and lit another cigarette.
"Got something going on later?" he asked.
"Depends. What?"
"Nothing crazy. Might need to make a stop after work."
"What kind of stop?"
"Just gotta see somebody."
I glanced over at him.
"Then why don't you just say that?"
"That's what I just said."
"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"
He grinned.
"That's why you love me, JC."
I shook my head and turned up the radio.
That was pretty much how every morning went.
Dre would be late. I'd bitch about it. He'd laugh. We'd go to work.
And somewhere between the cigarettes, the bullshit, and the music, we'd forget we were even tired.
Working concrete wasn't glamorous.
There was nothing exciting about standing around a muddy yard, pouring concrete into forms, dragging hoses, and cleaning tools that seemed to get heavier as the day went on.
We were building septic tanks and storm shelters. Big concrete structures that most people would never think twice about once they were buried in the ground or installed behind somebody's house.
But it was steady work.
And steady work meant a paycheck.
That mattered to me.
It mattered to Dre for different reasons.
His probation officer wanted proof that he was employed. He had fines to pay, court costs hanging over his head, and people checking to make sure he wasn't sitting around doing nothing.
The job gave him something legitimate to point to.
A reason to be somewhere.
A reason to have money.
And, whether he admitted it or not, a reason to stay out of trouble for at least eight hours a day.
Most days, anyway.
"Yo, JC!"
I looked up from the form I was working on.
Dre was standing on the other side of the yard, holding a shovel.
"What?"
"Come look at this shit."
I walked over.
He pointed at a section of wet concrete.
"That look right to you?"
I stared at it.
"What am I looking at?"
"That."
"That what?"
"The fucking corner, man."
I leaned down.
He was right. One side wasn't filling evenly, and there was a pocket forming near the edge.
"Grab the vibrator," I told him.
He looked at me and started smiling.
"Man, what?"
"Don't."
"You said it."
"Dre."
"Just saying, JC. You gotta be careful asking another man to grab a vibrator."
I couldn't help laughing.
"You're a fucking idiot."
He laughed so hard he nearly dropped the shovel.
That was Dre.
He could turn the most miserable workday into something you almost enjoyed.
And he worked harder than I expected.
When he first started, I figured he'd last a week, maybe two. I pictured him complaining about the heat, disappearing for cigarette breaks, or deciding the money wasn't worth the effort.
But he showed up.
He learned.
He listened when somebody explained something to him.
Sure, he talked more shit than anybody I'd ever met, but when there was work to do, he usually did it.
I started respecting him for that.
Maybe more than I should have.
Because seeing somebody do one thing right has a funny way of making you overlook everything else they're doing wrong.
We took lunch around noon.
I was sitting on the back of my car, eating a sandwich I'd bought at a gas station that morning.
Dre stood nearby, talking on his phone.
"Nah, I told you already."
He paused.
"Because I'm at work, fool."
Another pause.
"Man, I don't give a fuck what he said. Tell him I'll holler at him when I get off."
He hung up and shoved the phone into his pocket.
"Everything good?" I asked.
"Yeah."
He took a bite of his food.
"People just don't understand I got a fucking job now."
I laughed.
"Welcome to the real world."
"Man, fuck the real world."
"Thought you liked getting a paycheck."
"I like getting money. That's different."
I shook my head.
He sat down beside me.
"How much you think they gonna take out my check?"
"For what?"
"Taxes and shit."
"Depends how much you make."
"Man, that's bullshit."
"Welcome to the real world," I repeated.
He laughed.
Then his phone rang again.
He looked at the screen, let it ring twice, and declined the call.
A few seconds later, a text came through.
He read it, typed something back, and put the phone away.
I didn't ask.
That was becoming another part of our routine.
Dre's phone was always ringing.
Sometimes he'd answer. Sometimes he'd ignore it. Sometimes he'd step away where nobody could hear him.
I knew enough about his life to have a pretty good idea what some of those conversations were about.
But knowing something and asking about it were two different things.
And I wasn't interested in creating problems that didn't belong to me.
At least that's what I told myself.
By the time we finished cleaning up that afternoon, my arms felt like they were hanging off my shoulders.
Dre was walking beside me toward the car, complaining about his back.
"Man, this shit gonna kill me."
"You've been doing it for like two weeks."
"Exactly. Two weeks too fucking long."
"Thought you were a working man now."
"I'm a businessman."
"You're a laborer."
"Same shit."
"No, it's really not."
He laughed.
We climbed into the car, and I started the engine.
"Where you need to go?" I asked.
He looked at his phone.
"Take me over by the store first."
"What store?"
"The one off the highway."
I knew which one he meant.
It was a little convenience store where people always seemed to be standing around outside, no matter what time of day you drove past.
"How long you gonna be?"
"Two minutes."
I looked at him.
"Your two minutes or actual two minutes?"
"Man, drive the fucking car."
When we pulled into the parking lot, Dre spotted somebody near the side of the building.
"There he is."
He opened the door.
"Be right back."
I watched him walk over to a guy standing beside an older Chevrolet.
They shook hands.
Talked for a minute.
The guy handed Dre something small enough that I couldn't make out what it was.
Dre slipped it into his pocket.
Then they talked some more.
I looked away.
Not because I hadn't seen anything.
Because I had.
I turned up the radio and watched a woman struggle to get two little kids into the back of her SUV.
A few minutes later, Dre climbed back into my car.
"Good to go."
"That was longer than two minutes."
"Man, you always watching the clock."
"Some of us got shit to do."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded stack of bills, and counted through them.
I glanced over.
"Must've been a good conversation."
He smiled.
"Something like that."
I didn't say anything.
He peeled off a twenty and held it out.
"Here."
"What's that for?"
"Gas."
"I don't need your money."
"Man, take the fucking twenty."
I took it.
That was another thing about Dre.
He wasn't stingy.
If he had money, he spent it. If we stopped somewhere to eat, half the time he'd pay. If I needed gas, he'd throw me something.
He never made a big deal about it.
And because he never made a big deal about it, neither did I.
At the time, twenty dollars was twenty dollars.
It wasn't some grand moral decision.
It was gas money.
That's how I saw it.
When we got back to my house, Crystal's car was already in the driveway.
I pulled in behind her.
Dre looked over.
"Crystal home?"
"Looks that way."
"She gonna be mad I'm here?"
"Why would she be mad?"
He shrugged.
"Man, I don't know. Women be getting mad about everything."
"Just don't act like an asshole."
He laughed.
"Can't promise that."
We walked inside.
Crystal was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove.
She looked over when we came through the door.
"Hey."
"Hey, babe."
Dre raised his hand.
"What's up, Crystal?"
"Hey, Dre."
He sniffed the air.
"Goddamn, what you cooking?"
She laughed.
"Spaghetti."
"Oh, shit."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"Man, I ain't had a home-cooked meal in forever."
Crystal glanced at me.
"There's plenty if you want some."
Dre looked genuinely surprised.
"For real?"
"Yeah. It's just spaghetti."
"Shit, I'll take some."
I pointed at him.
"You're welcome, by the way."
"For what?"
"Bringing your hungry ass here."
He laughed.
Crystal shook her head and went back to stirring the sauce.
It was such a small thing.
Dre sitting at my kitchen table.
Crystal fixing an extra plate.
Me washing concrete dust off my arms in the bathroom before dinner.
Nothing about it felt dangerous.
Nothing about it felt like the beginning of something.
It felt normal.
And that was exactly why I didn't think twice about it.
We ate at the kitchen table.
Dre was telling Crystal about something that happened at work, exaggerating every detail like he always did.
"Man, I'm telling you, JC almost fell straight into that fucking tank."
"I did not."
"Bro, you were one step away from swimming in concrete."
Crystal started laughing.
"Seriously?"
"No. He's full of shit."
Dre pointed his fork at me.
"See? That's the problem with him. He can't admit when he's wrong."
"You're making the whole thing up."
"Details, man. Details."
Crystal laughed again.
And I noticed something.
She was comfortable.
Not pretending to be comfortable.
Actually comfortable.
A few weeks earlier, having Dre sitting at our kitchen table would've probably turned into an argument after he left.
Now she was laughing at his jokes and asking him how work was going.
"So you like the job?" she asked.
Dre shrugged.
"It's alright. Better than sitting around, I guess."
"At least you're making money."
"Yeah. And keeping probation off my ass."
"That's important."
"Believe me, I know."
For a moment, he sounded different.
Less like the guy who was always joking and running his mouth.
More like somebody who understood he had something to lose.
Crystal nodded.
"Well, I think it's good you're working."
Dre smiled.
"Appreciate that."
I watched the exchange without saying anything.
Part of me was glad they were getting along.
Another part of me knew Crystal was only seeing the version of Dre that showed up for work, made jokes, and ate spaghetti at our table.
She didn't see everything else.
Then again, neither did I.
Not really.
After dinner, Crystal started cleaning up while Dre and I went outside.
The sun was beginning to drop behind the houses, and the air had finally cooled off enough to make sitting outside bearable.
We sat on the front steps.
Dre lit a cigarette.
"Man, your girl can cook."
"Yeah, she's alright."
"Alright? Man, you better appreciate that shit."
I laughed.
"Trust me, I do."
He took a drag and stared out toward the street.
For a while, neither of us said much.
Then he asked, "You ever think about getting out of here?"
"Out of where?"
"Just... all this shit."
I looked at him.
"What, Tennessee?"
"Nah, man. Just doing the same thing every day. Getting up, going to work, coming home, doing it again."
"That's pretty much life."
"Yeah, but it don't gotta be."
I leaned back against the railing.
"What are you planning now?"
He laughed.
"Nothing. Just thinking."
"That's usually when you get yourself in trouble."
"Fuck you."
We both laughed.
Then he got quiet again.
"I'm serious, though, JC. I ain't trying to pour concrete the rest of my life."
"Neither am I."
"Exactly."
He flicked his cigarette ash into the yard.
"There's money out there, man. Real money. People making more in a day than we make in a month."
"Yeah, and half of them end up in prison."
He smiled.
"Only the stupid ones."
I shook my head.
"Everybody thinks they're smarter than the next guy until they get caught."
He looked over at me.
"You sound like my probation officer."
"Maybe you should listen to both of us."
He laughed.
But I could tell he wasn't joking about the money.
Dre liked working well enough.
He liked having a paycheck.
But the idea of spending forty or fifty hours a week breaking his back for a few hundred dollars didn't sit right with him.
He'd already seen another way of making money.
And once somebody gets used to that kind of cash, a regular paycheck can start looking pretty small.
I understood the temptation.
That didn't mean I wanted the same life.
At least, not then.
A little later, Crystal came outside and sat beside me.
"You two planning on sitting out here all night?"
"Probably," Dre said.
She smiled.
"Well, I'm going to watch TV."
I put my arm around her.
"Come sit with us for a minute."
She leaned against me.
Dre looked over.
"See, that's what I'm talking about."
"What?"
"Man's got a house, a woman cooking for him, a job. You living good, JC."
I laughed.
"Yeah, I'm practically rich."
"Nah, I'm serious."
Crystal looked at him.
"Then you need to find yourself a girlfriend."
Dre shook his head.
"Man, I got enough problems."
We all laughed.
For a few minutes, everything felt right.
I had my house.
Crystal was back.
I had a job.
My best friend was working beside me instead of sitting around getting himself into trouble all day.
Things weren't perfect, but they were better than they'd been.
And I was starting to believe maybe we were all growing up a little.
Then Dre's phone rang.
He looked down at the screen.
His expression changed just enough for me to notice.
"Hold up," he said.
He stood and walked toward the car.
Crystal watched him go.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Probably somebody he knows."
She nodded.
We sat there quietly while Dre talked near the street.
I couldn't hear what he was saying.
But I could tell he wasn't laughing anymore.
When Dre came back, he had his keys in his hand.
"Yo, JC. I gotta roll."
"Everything good?"
"Yeah, man. Just gotta handle something."
"You need a ride?"
"Nah, somebody coming to get me."
I nodded.
He looked at Crystal.
"Appreciate dinner."
"You're welcome."
"For real. That shit was good."
She smiled.
"Glad you liked it."
He looked back at me.
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Long as your ass is ready when I get there."
He laughed.
"I'll be ready."
"Sure you will."
A few minutes later, a car pulled up in front of the house.
I didn't recognize it.
Dark windows. Music playing low enough that I could feel the bass but couldn't make out the song.
Dre walked down the driveway, leaned toward the passenger window, and said something to whoever was inside.
Then he opened the door and climbed in.
The car pulled away.
Crystal stood beside me, watching it disappear down the street.
"Who's that?"
"No idea."
She looked at me.
"You don't know?"
"Nope."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "You think he's really trying to straighten his life out?"
I thought about it.
"Yeah," I said. "I think he's trying."
And I meant it.
I really did.
But trying to change your life and actually changing it are two different things.
I just hadn't learned that yet.
Later that night, Crystal and I were lying in bed watching television.
She was curled up beside me, half asleep, while I scrolled through my phone.
A message came through from Dre.
Yo JC
I typed back.
What up
A few seconds passed.
You working tomorrow right
Yeah why
Just checking
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
Appreciate you today bruh
I smiled a little.
For what
Everything man
I typed back.
You good?
He didn't answer right away.
Then:
Yeah im straight. See you in the morning
I put the phone down.
Crystal looked up.
"Who was that?"
"Dre."
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just talking about work."
She settled back against me.
"He's a good friend to you."
I looked toward the ceiling.
"Yeah," I said.
"He is."
And he was.
That was the part that made everything so complicated later.
Dre wasn't some cartoon villain walking around trying to ruin people's lives.
He was funny.
He was generous.
He could be loyal as hell.
He'd help you when you needed something, and he could make you laugh on the worst day of your life.
But he also lived in a world where favors weren't always just favors.
Where money came with expectations.
Where the people you knew could become more important than the decisions you made.
And I was getting closer to that world without even realizing it.
Not because somebody forced me.
Not because I wanted to be a gangster.
Not because I had some big plan to make a fortune.
I was just going to work.
Coming home.
Hanging out with my friend.
Doing what seemed normal.
The next morning, I pulled up outside Dre's place a little before six-fifteen.
For once, he was already standing outside.
I rolled down the window.
"Well, I'll be damned."
He grinned.
"Told you I'd be ready."
"Mark this shit on the calendar."
He climbed in and tossed his lunch onto the back seat.
I noticed he looked tired.
More tired than usual.
"You sleep at all?"
"A little."
"Long night?"
"Something like that."
He leaned his head back against the seat.
I started driving.
We made it a couple of miles before he spoke again.
"Yo, JC."
"What?"
"You mind if we stop somewhere after work today?"
I sighed.
"Again?"
"Man, just hear me out."
I glanced over.
"Where?"
"Not far. Maybe twenty minutes out of the way."
"What's going on?"
He rubbed his face.
"Just gotta pick something up."
"Why can't whoever it is bring it to you?"
"Because they can't."
I waited for him to explain.
He didn't.
"What are we picking up?" I asked.
He looked out the passenger window.
"Nothing crazy."
I'd heard that before.
"That doesn't answer my question."
He turned toward me.
"Man, JC, I ain't gonna put you in no fucked-up situation. You know that."
I kept my eyes on the road.
The thing was, I believed him.
Not because I knew exactly what he was doing.
But because he was Dre.
Because we'd spent enough time together that I felt like I knew him.
Because he'd been in my house, eaten at my table, worked beside me, and become part of my everyday life.
And because, up to that point, whenever he'd asked me to do something, we'd always made it home.
I shook my head.
"Whatever, man. Just don't have me riding all over Tennessee."
He smiled.
"That's my boy."
I turned up the radio.
The sun was just starting to rise over the trees, lighting up the road ahead of us.
Another workday.
Another ride.
Another favor.
I didn't know where we were going that afternoon.
I didn't know who we were meeting.
And I damn sure didn't know that the little stops Dre kept asking me to make were slowly becoming the reason he needed me around in the first place.
All I knew was that I trusted my friend.
And sometimes, that's all it takes to get yourself into something you can't easily get out of.