Chapter 3: Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.

Charlie's feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and his legs were shaking because he had never bought a gun before. Just as he started to let his mind wander, he came across a pay phone and thought of Billie Jean.

Jamming his hand into his pocket he fumbbled to find two quarters to stick into the coin slot. The coins clinked pleasingly, and every push of a number left Charlie's ears ringing with a melodic note. It rang.

A gruff voice answered the phone, "Hello. Who is this?"

"What the fuck. I should be asking the same question. What little rat-bastard of a man is picking up my girl's phone?"

"Oh," the rat-bastard said followed by a chuckle, "You must be Charlie."

"Yeah and you're a dead man," Charlie hissed back. "Could you put Billie Jean on the phone?"

"Whatever," the bastard replied.

"Hello?" Billie Jean said softly.

"Billie Jean what the fuck is this bullshit? You a hoe or something now?" Charlie screamed.

"Charlie, please baby, understand; what was I supposed to do six months ago when you suddenly left talking all crazy about some mission for your mother."

"I told you. I have to do this. It's for my mother. I thought you loved me Billie Jean. I thought you would wait," Charlie said, squeezing back the tears.

"You didn't even know the woman Charlie, she left you on the steps of some church in Brooklyn when you were one year old. She didn't love you baby." Billie Jean said.

"Don't talk to me about love you slut. You threw away three fucking years of us away on some dude who sounds so dumb he could pass for a cave man. And I can smell his stank ass breath over the phone," Charlie yelled, the tears were flowing freely now.

"But..." Billie Jean stammered.

"No. Don't start with me Billie Jean. You're dead to me," he said.

Charlie slammed the phone onto the reciever and punched at his face, trying to beat the tears away. He stummbled away from the phone. He felt the world caving in on him.

As he turned away he bumpped into Alan Douglas. Charlie knew to well Alan's schemes, he regularly tried to use food stamps at the Chinese spot.

"Hello there Charlie," Alan said.

"Whats up Alan, who are you ripping off now?" Charlie said.

"Well no one at the moment. I'm on my way to a hot date. Say, why are you looking all water eyed?" Alan asked.

"Nothing. My girl is fucking some random dude right now. Its cool though, I got better shit to do," Charlie snapped back.

"Well, last time a girl cheated on me, I pushed her into a wood chipper, but I might have over reacted a bit," Alan said.

"Thats cool Alan. Whatever. I gotta get going," Chalie said turning to leave.

"Me too," Alan said, "I'll be actually getting some tonight!"

Charlie didn't even hear him, he was already sprinting down the block because it had begun to rain. He didn't mind though. The rain washed all over his face, and the tears rolled away with it. He was tough, he didn't need her anyways. He kept a steady sprint all the way to the neon lights of the dingy old pawn shop. He looked down into the reflection of a puddle, and smiled.

"Time to get a gun," he said to himself, ducking into the door of the pawn shop.

Chapter 2: Night life

Charlie was relieved when Ms. Wong finally flipped the closed sign on the Ching Ching door. The last customers, that little Jew with his sweet, old grandmother had been especially annoying. He kept begging her for money to buy his "girlfriend" a present, but Charlie and the kid's grandmother could tell he didn't really have one. It had been a busy day, and Charlie smelled like he had been building the Great Wall all day. The restaurant didn't have a shower, so Charlie stripped down and went outside to take a hobo shower with the hose out back. He grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed all over. Just as Charlie was about to rinse off and head back inside, a group of girls drove by and screamed at him, "Nice bod." He knew he was attractive, but he didn't let these mere girls faze him because he had a real woman waiting for him in Brooklyn.

Her name was Billie Jean, and she was his lover. She was beautiful and an inspiring model. After he finished drying off, Charlie picked up his tips and headed out to the only cool place in town, Oscar Alcazar's butcher shop. He had met Oscar a week earlier during a delivery, and they ended up having becoming good friends on account of they both loved nice cars and beautiful women. Charlie admired Oscar's illegal exhibitions, and often spent his free time chilling in the butchery.

Charlie approached the door, and knocked. Shortly after, a burly looking Jamaican opened the door and said, "Can I help you mon?"

Charlie replied the secret password, "I'd like a little New York Strip please."

"Well come on in then Mr. Slicks," he said.

Charlie walked down into the secret room in the back of the butcher shop through the meat freezer. The room smelled of cigar smoke, and a group of rough looking men sat around a table gambling Vegas-style. From behind him Charlie heard a rumbling voice, "Well, well, well, White China, how ya doin?"

Charlie spun around to give some dap to Oscar. "How you doing Oscar?"

"Good, Good." he replied. "Go ahead have a seat, need a beer?"

"Sorry Oscar, I can't stay for long, I actually came to ask you a favor," Charlie said. "I need a good connection for a gun, nothing fancy, I just need something that will kill someone."

"Whoa, Whoa!" Oscar shouted. "Whatcha need a gun for?"

Charlie simply replied, "My mission Oscar, I need it for my mission."

Oscar nodded. He was one of the few people he knew about Charlie's mission, and he respected him for it. Oscar pulled out his wallet which was bursting at the seams with 100 dollar bills. He fished a crisp bill out of the wallet along with a business card covered with strange symbols.

"This should cover the gun. Go to the pawn shop, mention my name, and give the man this card...He knows the drill and owes me a favor," Oscar said.

"Thanks Oscar, you've done more for me than my father ever did. And I hold you close to my heart because of it," Charlie said.

Oscar gave Charlie a hug (but a manly one at that), lifting him off the ground, and nearly crushing his lungs. Then told him good luck. With that Charlie left out the way he came. He stepped out the door of the shop and into the street. Something caught his eye, and he looked across the street only to meet eyes with the strange old man from earlier. He was standing in the middle of the road, just waving at Charlie. Charlie sprinted to where he saw the man standing, switchblade drawn, still covered with a little dried blood from his last subway brawl. But once Charlie reached the place where the old man had just been standing, he disappeared again.

Shaking off the feeling that he was going insane, Charlie flicked his switchblade back up and put it in his pocket. He felt light headed as he walked toward the pawn shop.

Chapter One: Noodles

An alarm went off in the back of the Chinese restaurant. Charlie slowly lifted his head from his cot that was slightly too small for his long, tall body. He rubbed his eyes and looked around his room, which was actually a pantry scattered with fortune cookies, noodles, and cans with Chinese writing on it Charlie couldn't understand. All the possessions Charlie owned in the world were in this room: a book bag full of spray paint cans and various tools he could break into cars with, a old duffel bag full of clothes, and a faded Chock-full-O-Nuts coffee can. He also now had a cot Ms. Wong had bought him from a thrift store, and some sheets that smelled faintly of General Tso's chicken. Ms. Wong seemed nice enough, he worked for a meager wage and had free lodging which was better than the last six months of Charlie's life when he was living on a freight train.

Charlie climbs out of bed, and steps out the back door to roll a joint, he needs the pot to make the pain go away. Everyday starts with a good smoke. It was still dark outside, he didn't need to worry about getting caught in the act. In good light, anyone could see the hardcore tattoos covering his arms like sleeves, and his jet black hair which tends to be shaggy. His frame is skinny, but his appearance is tough and strong, like he has been through a lot in his life; even though he is only 19. He lights up, and gets lost within his mind, he thinks about how his mother could have grown up in a shit hole town like this and what chores Ms. Wong will make him do today. Suddenly a vision for his master piece flashes in his head, quickly, Charlie pulls out a notepad a scribbles down his idea. The joint has started to burn his fingers, and he stomps it out on the ground near the dumpster. "Well good fucking morning," he says to himself as he walks back inside. He wonders why he is even here in this shit hole town when he could be back in his Brooklyn appartment with his girl. He misses her more and more, and he hopes she misses him back. Then he remembers his important mission and shakes off his doubts.

Ms. Wong arrives soon after and says, "Charlie, you make a noodles, okay?" Charlie nods his head and starts rolling out the noodle dough. Soon it is lunch time, and the restaurant gets crowded. Charlie is frying chicken and egg rolls now and boiling rice. Suddenly, he hears a laugh that reminds him of his childhood. Unknowingly, he runs out of the kitchen up to the counter only to come face to face with some young woman, not the one he misses. He slinks back into the kitchen and asks Ms. Wong for a break. Then he walks outside, and quitely sobs for five minutes straight. He hears someone coming and quickly wipes away the salty tears. "You alright sonny?" a strange, old man asks. Charlie looks him dead in the eye and says, "Fuck off grandpa." Then he turns to walk back inside the resturaunt. The old man then says, "I know you miss her, but keep focused on your mission Charlie, you have to for her sake. Everyone must remember her." Charlie spins around quickly, but the old man has seemingly vanished. Shaking off the strange string of events involving the mysterious old man, Charlie says to himself, "Shit. That pot has got to be laced with some sketchy shit."