Long Night Out

By Brennan Coleman

Long Night Out is a tale of danger and life in the big city as small-time young people with big hopes and dreams encounter challenges, successes, failures, joys, tragedies, and each other as they try to find their way. Reluctant anti-hero Jack Cooper narrates the intertwining tales of frustrating near-misses and sometimes heartbreaking tragicomic adventures. This first novel is populated by unsuspecting urban dwellers whose necessary journey as they learn to live in the world as it is reveals to them all the hidden places--high, low, and in-between--anyone could ever hope to find in an American city.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312112803

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Long Night Out

Second Edition

©2014 Brennan Coleman

First Edition ©2009

All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1-312-11280-3

Lulu Press

Grateful Dedication and Dubious Inspiration

For H., without whom I may very well still be trapped.

My shit stinks best, except than a dog's.

- C. Bukowski

Contents

So What?

Straight, No Chaser

I. Belly

II I Thought We Agreed?

III Auld Lang Syne

IV The End Is Near

On the Rocks

About the Author

From The U.S. Review of Books

So What?

I woke up to the sickly sweet smell of rotgut accompanied by the equally nauseating odor of overflowing ashtrays. I made it to the toilet in time and spit the rest out with what was left of the mouthwash. Thank God I was alone. There’s nothing worse than forced cordiality in the morning. Nothing more phony, either. Why do women need us to be so happy all the time about everything? For fuck’s sake, there’s very little to be happy about—we’re all teetering on the brink of our very own extinction. If we can live with the truth about our lives without jumping off the roof, I’d say we’re better off than the deluded crowds drifting somnambulant through the blissfully narcotic corporate waking nightmares they call lives.

I tried to smoke a cigarette but it made me sick, so I started some coffee instead. If it wasn’t a Saturday, I might have killed myself. I thought about my job selling magazines on the phone for a while as I grabbed the edge of the sink and looked out the window, trying not to let the smell of coffee make me puke again. One thing I was happy about—I didn’t have to sell any magazines today.

Last night was only the third night I had spent with Vanessa. It was by far the best of the three. I wondered where she was. We sold magazines together. She brought all her friends around last night—all two of them. There was the Mormon on a crusade to create the new face of Utah’s church to the people of the world: armed robbery and narcotics today; saints some latter day. And then there was his brother, the flower salesman who could get you any kind of speed, crack, or heroin, any time, day or night, within fifteen minutes, or the next hit was on him. The seasonal flower sales routine was just a front to hide the real source of his income—it gave him access to warehouses and personnel that all looked legitimate on the surface. Great. At least I knew I’d get a discount on a Valentine’s Day gift she was sure to love.

That I was putting myself through college came to me as a vague recollection. Yes, that was it. I was a sophomore in college. I was studying English literature. It was all coming back now. I poured a cup of coffee—hot and black—and walked to the kitchen table, sat down, and took an experimental swallow. Ahhhh, relief. My head cleared, my headache eased, and I woke up enough to survey the damage to my humble abode. Hell of a party we’ve been having around here. Wasn’t there something about law school, too? I think so. I’ll have to look into that later.

My thoughts turned to Vanessa. The only reason I got this place was because she hated my roommates at the place where I had lived before. In a way, I agreed with her. But still, it pissed me off that she was the reason I moved. It was my life, and I was supposed to be calling the shots. Oh well, she was right about one thing—my ex-roommates were worse almost than Randall the renegade Mormon and his sidekick Vic the flower salesman. True, her friends were criminals, and my posturing was all legitimate businessman, but the frat brothers could really get on your nerves after a while. I don’t think any of them had had an original thought among them since they first sat in front of the television when they were three years old. Prime candidates for the corporate life.

Bullshit. Who am I kidding? They’ll probably be driving BMW’s and going to bed with all the best pieces of ass college has to offer before things are over, and I’ll be stranded out here in the wasteland with the welfare mothers and junkies with the lifetime disability pensions who’ll never set foot in the workplace again if they can help it….And me….what am I? The next William Goddamn Shakespeare? Sure, in my dreams.

I took another swallow of coffee and walked to the couch. The newspaper was lying open on the coffee table, open to the want ads, easily the most depressing part of the whole paper. The news, the sports, the editorial section—all that was great. Free entertainment, you know? Well, cheap entertainment anyway. But the want ads? The want ads mean only one thing: you have to land a job or you’ll be out on the street at the end of the month. Looking over the ads, I began to think it wasn’t so bad selling magazines on the telephone. Fine. That’s settled, I thought, as I tossed the paper to the side. It was a shitty place to….

The door swung open with a crash. Hey, sweetie….guess who's home?

Vanessa. I thought you’d gone to work or decided to leave me. Welcome back….Pour yourself some coffee and join me over here….I’m getting a little lonely.

I’m surprised you’re up. You partied pretty hard last night. Nothing embarrassing, though.

That’s a relief. Where’s your posse?

They’ll be along later. Did I tell you they both got jobs where we work?

Yeah? It was about all the enthusiasm I could muster, but she kept going, hardly missing a beat.

Mmm-hmmm. I know we’ll all have a real good time.

I shuddered at the thought. Sure we will. Serious enthusiasm this time.

Anyway, I brought you a little present. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.

Okay. Vanessa? What?

Can I ask you something? Sure.

"You’re pretty good to me. But how