The Rape of David Miles
by
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David stretches his fingers trying to limber them up; they feel like sticks at the end of his right hand from all the practicing he’s done today. His teacher, Wendell Sampson is giving him last minute platitudes for the work he had put in “Great work David. Keep that up and you’ll be well on your way¼” Blah blah blah is what it sounds like to him. He’s in another world now, where musicians like him can do what they want, anytime, without answering to anybody. He straps his trumpet into the case that looks like it had its own private war at one time. David smiles at it, knowing he would never know what the case had seen. All he knows is he had won it, along with the horn, in a crap game from some dude who couldn’t look straight at anybody that day. With eyes crooked, spittle trailing from the side of his lips, he just knew he was gonna take David’s money. The fool.
David skips every other stair as he bounds down from the second floor of the store front building. On the first floor there is a small neighborhood store that calls for people to “come in” with its specials of the day pasted to the windows: “Three pounds of chicken wings for a dollar ninety-nine“. “Pork Chops, thick and juicy” “Ground Beef ninety-nine cents a lb”. David flings the door open so that everyone in there would know he is coming in. The door bounces off the backstop with the clanging of bells overhead and the store owner looks up from counting change. “Boy what is yo’ problem? I done told you to take it easy when you come in my sto’.”
“Sorry Mr. Jones. I’m just gettin’ outta practice and I need somethin’ to whet my whistle.”
“Well, jus’ take it easy on my do’, gaddamit.”
David chuckles softly at the way Mr. Jones talks. He knows he works the man’s nerves but he can’t help it. He loves the attention. He walks through the middle aisle of the store, each shelf stacked to the edge with boxed and canned goods, from sweet corn to soup to beans to rice. You name it, it’s in that aisle. David stops in front of the upright cooler at the back of the store, his eyes on the sodas neatly stacked inside. “I feel like a Coke but my throat says Pepsi.” He pulls out a cold twenty-ounce bottle and heads for the front of the store. Mr. Jones is waiting for him, his bottom lip still stuck out from David’s grand entrance.
“All right now. That all you want?”
”Yeah, Mr. Jones. A cold Pepsi to help get some spit back in my mouth.”
“Try water for spit, boy. That soda ain’t gon do nothin’ but make you mo’ thirsty. But, that’ll be fine wit me ’cause ya’ll be rat back in here buyin’ some mo’ soda.”
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About the Book
David Miles is twirling about in a world of his own when suddenly he is distracted by an experienced, professional woman. David reluctantly follows the woman to her lair and is hypnotically seduced by the woman’s moves, her music and her lovemaking. When she tells him her name is Ophelia, David is even more mesmerized; as if taken by a goddess.
Before meeting this woman David’s life consisted of playing in his high school jazz orchestra, playing with a jazz trio, and living and eating in his parent’s home. David’s family is closed knit and his parents (Oscar and Celia), and siblings (Michele and Bowen) are well aware of the life he wants to live; but now they must accept the fact that he wants to leave the old ways of his life and begin a new journey, one that involves travel and playing in a small band of jazz musicians. He looks up to the male members of the band (Jonas “Redd”
The band –
About the Author
John E. Thompson was born and raised on the south side of
John currently lives and writes in