MILD TROUBLE: Pull Up To The Spot (Night Vybez)

A Short Story by LDPaul

Scribe Post 003

Adapted from the screenplay of the same name

Act 1

Orquidea Deli, Brooklyn, NY - Night

A sizable, quaint bodega. The overhead ceiling lights are much brighter than an average corner store's in New York. Music plays in the distance from a radio.

Everything from the snack racks, countertop fridges, and open-air coolers, to the coffee makers and ice freezers, look newly refurbished. No RAW papers or other smoke shop paraphernalia are seen behind the glass display of the countertop where candy bars are held. Definitely family-friendly.

A Bodega Clerk, young, African American and in his 20s with a tired mug on his face, pensively does clean up activities for the store, preparing for closing. He's dressed in the deli's apron atop his civvies.

A small pack of customers walks in, causing the Clerk to breach focus. He walks to the glass-paneled countertop as they search for various foods and beverages. As they bring their items to the counter, the Clerk rings them up. He manages to crack a smile through his mug. Night shifts couldn't be any less shitty.

One of the customers smiles at him endearingly. The Clerk catches on, smiling back a little brighter as the small pack leaves. He goes back to resume his duties.

As the customers walk towards the Avenue H station house, a black man, also young and in his 20s, dressed in a black bomber jacket, with straight legged pants that sag under his ass and classic Timbs, makes a diagonal path from the corner of East 17th and Avenue H to the bodega's entrance. The Clerk hears the bell sound an alarm as the doors open, continuing to mop as he looks up to turn away the customer.

"I'm sorry, we're-" He begins to croak before looking onto the man, dismayed. As if he's seen a ghost.

"-Closed? My fault, I ain't see the sign."

Avenue H MTA Station, Brooklyn, NY - Continuous

Jessica Sinclair, 24 years old, slender and African American, wanders through the station's underpass, walking past the group of customers from earlier, as she ashes her spliff before taking another pull. The tunnel's sodium vapor lights grimly brim around her, revealing she's dressed in a long, printed and distressed, slit T-shirt dress underneath a tan oversized duster coat, a layered necklace draped around her neck, and thigh high aggy Doc Martens boots to complete the ensemble. Her medium sized black braids are swept into a high ponytail that's held together with a red paisley bandana wrapped around them for support.

Her headphones drown her mind out of the world as she listens to "iddd" by Chynna. It gets interrupted when she receives a text notification. She stops dead in her tracks to see who it's from.

(Maverick) Yo, you good? You missed the party, was tryna see you. Hit me back when you can.

"Fuck!" Jessica hisses. She knew she wouldn't make it anyhow. Parties aren't really her thing, but she figured she'd have enough time to get a quick drink, for the road.

She types back a reply:

(Jessica) Yo, I just woke up, my fault... Meet me at our spot in 30? I gotta get ready.

Maverick replies: That's cap, Lol. & Aight, bet.

She studies her tawny, brown face in her phone's camera, a double nostril piercing present along with bloodshot eyes, as she continues to walk.

Orquidea Deli - Continuous

The man, a Corner Boy, walks up to the Clerk, his hand outreached. But the Clerk backs away in hesitance.

"Yooo, what's good?" The Corner Boy holds out his hand for a handshake but the Clerk just stares at him. "So what, you not gon' shake my hand?"

"My fault bro, I've been up all day. Just tired." The Clerk then gives a half-smile while dapping it up with the Corner Boy.

"This new spot got you acting brand new or sum'n. Looking all clean and shit. Y'all even sell papers?"

"Nah man, it's family-friendly over here."

The Corner Boy surveys the area, looking through various snacks while glancing at the Clerk. The Clerk places the mop back in its bucket before walking back to the cash register. He looks at the Corner Boy through the glass panel of the space.

"I don't know if you wanna cop something, but we boutta close, not gon' hold you..." The Clerk states while looking simultaneously at the store's security cameras.

"Who's we? You the only one here."

The Clerk pauses. "C'mon man, you know what I mean."

The Corner Boy walks over to the counter, standing before the Clerk while asserting his presence. "We can cut all this bullshit, man. You already know what I'm here for."

The Clerk tenses up. "Aight."

"Where's the money?"

The Clerk looks on contemplative, as if he's debating on what to say next. He can't even tell if the air is starting to get thicker or thinner. "...I don't have it."

"What?" Corner Boy snaps. "Aight now you fucking with me," he chuckles, "You tryna get me to mink ya shit. But forreal where's the money, I gotta dip."

"Bro don't even move like that. I already told you the last time, I don't got it. This whole virus been making us lose customers, you and your boy knew I needed more time-"

"That sounds like a personal problem to me." Corner Boy interjects.

The Clerk starts to grow flustered. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. You keep coming over here expecting something different and the answer's still no."

Furrowing his brow, Corner Boy then scrunches his nose and lip. "You know what, you right..."

The Corner Boy pulls out his pistol, tugged from behind his sagged pants. He rests his gun hand on the countertop, pointing the muzzle parallel to the Clerk's chest.

"Bro, c'mon, you ain't gotta do that!" The Clerk looks on in shock, holding his guard up.

"Nah nah nah, keep that same energy. Y'know, I thought you'd think you were that nigga, but it's aight, we gon' correct that. Where's the fuckin' money?!"

The Clerk becomes speechless.

"You can't speak now? So, what, them muhfuckas who dipped outta the store, I should go ask 'em? That what you tryna tell me?!" The Corner Boy gets fired up.

"C'mon man," The Clerk's voice wavers, "You know me, I don't fuck around when it comes to getting mine. But I'm on parole and 12 been watching me lowkey."

"Then that makes you a liability then." The Corner Boy itches his temple with the gun's barrel.

"Na-nah, th-that's not what I'm saying-" The Clerk starts to huff and stammer.

"But it is. You not working in me and my boy's interest, which means you a op. Which also means I gotta close some loose ends..." As his sentence trails off, the Corner Boy stands back, his gun hand raised to aim at the Clerk.

Avenue H & East 17th - Continuous

Jessica continues along Avenue H, walking in the middle of the street from a dead-end sided entrance of the station. She looks over at Orquidea's facade and she sees the lights are still on.

"Hmph. They still open?"

As she comes back onto the sidewalk, she saunters closer to the bodega. She gets a good look at a sign on the glass that reads: NO FACE MASK, NO ENTRY.

"Shit, left it at home!" She sucks her teeth.

She looks around and sees the area is desolate. She decides to walk in, before stopping dead in her tracks as she sees the Corner Boy pointing his gun at the Clerk. The latter becomes stiff like a plank, his arms raised. His eyes slowly gaze to the entrance as he makes eye contact with Jessica. She bobs her head away. She turns around and starts speed walking back to the same direction of the Avenue H station house.

She shakes her head vehemently in denial - "Nah, Nope! I'm not doin' it! This ain't my scene, that ain't got nothing to do with me." She mutters.

But then, she looks back towards the bodega, longer than she would like to anticipate. Jessica remains planted for some time, before taking her last puff from the roach of her spliff, chucking the clip along the sidewalk. Slowly, she walks back to the unfolding fuckery.

As she nears closer to the entrance, she hangs back by the side of the store. Lowering her music on her phone, she closes her eyes before reopening them, a turquoise blue emanating from them. She places a hand by one of her temples, broadcasting the two figures' voices.

"I ain't wanna have to do this to you. But you already know who I'm riding with..." The Corner Boy's voice echoes.

Orquidea Deli - Continuous

"I'm doing you a favor by pulling up, instead of my mans. Don't hate me, I'm just the messenger."

As the Corner Boy cocks the hammer on his gun, he proceeds to pull the trigger. When he does, his finger rests on it but no action is made. He remains stiff, like he's been petrified. "Jessica" walks up behind him, whispering into his ear with glowing eyes and all.

"Good, let me send you a message." Her voice echoes with a chilling distortion.

And everything goes dark - The Corner Boy starts to panic as he looks around frantically. Jessica and the Clerk are nowhere to be found. He books it to the front door and tries to open it but to no avail. He then tries shooting at it - but the hammer cocks back with no bullets parting the muzzle.

Suddenly the lights in the bodega snap back on but they flicker on and off. Through each flicker, a ghoulish Jessica writhes and stiffly saunters from the sandwich grill section a la The Grudge-style, down the aisle towards the Corner Boy. As she holds her hand out, the Corner Boy starts to choke.

Darkness rolls up again like tendrils from various spaces of the store. Through each step that Jessica's ghoulish variant makes, Corner Boy's eyes become more bloodshot. Blood starts to seep from his eyes, ears, and nose as he clenches his chest.

As the lights snap back on, she appears right in front of him, preying upon him. Corner Boy staggers and falls down. He then scrounges up and bolts out of the bodega, leaving his gun behind.

Looking to his right, the Corner Boy sees Jessica directly before him. She rocks the same ghoulish face and glowing eyes as her illusory double. The Corner Boy charges off, running into the distance of the tree-lined meridians of the Flatbush Malls. Everything falls back to normalcy.

Jessica ambles into the bodega, side-eyeing the Clerk. She picks up the Corner Boy's gun as she hits up the freezer section, putting it in her coat. Retrieving a Bud Light Lime-a-Rita, she then walks past the countertop. She opens up her can and takes a swig from it while the Clerk looks on with glowing turquoise eyes.

Her voice hangs in the air, with the same chilling distortive echo as she relays a message to the Clerk: "Do me a favor... delete that camera footage. And remember that nothing happened tonight."

He has a dissonant, relieved look mixed with confusion.

Jessica dips soon after.

Love what you've read so far? Continue on to the next act. And be sure to check out the teaser for things to come...