"No," I shook my head dully, "not for me."

That evening, I walked over to my dad's house. I hadn't been back in almost a year. I stood outside in the street for a while, scrutinizing it carefully.

The house looked surprisingly good. It had a new paint job and a new garage had been tacked on to it. The roof was brand new, covered in red asphalt shingles. From the outside, it almost looked as if nothing was wrong at all.

I stood there in the dark for a long time, shifting from foot to foot. Once in a while, a car would drive by and its headlights would illuminate me. Then they'd be gone.

I screwed up all the courage I had and walked up to the door and rang the bell.

Footsteps came. Nina opened up the door. She surveyed me warily. "What do you want?"

I cleared my throat. "I want to talk to my dad."

She shrugged at me. "What if he don't want to talk to you?"

"Just get him," I told her.

She scowled, then disappeared. After a while, I heard the heavy footsteps that I knew to be my father's. He appeared in the doorway and loomed down at me. He wasn't smiling. But then, he didn't look mad, either. He just kind of stared at me in the face, as if curious to see me standing there, this person who happened to be his son.

"Yeah?"

"I . . ." I felt at a loss for words. "I don't have anywhere to sleep tonight."

He nodded, considering. "You want to come on in?"

"You got room for me?" I mumbled.

My dad remained silent for a second, then he spoke. "Why not?"

I stood there on the front mat, my arms folded in front of me. Neither of us looked at each other.

"Well, come on in, already," he said.

Essentially, I struck a deal with my dad. He and I rarely talked to each other, and we never discussed our fight. But I started getting up early and helping him out. As long as I pulled my weight, helping him load up that truck, he was okay with me staying there.

School was uncomfortable. I'd see Rhonda in the hallways, and now we'd just look through each other. She'd been my roommate, my love. Now we were just strangers again. She never really tried to explain herself to me, and I was grateful for that. I missed her in a huge way, and I missed her mom, too. But it felt like a chapter had ended, so I let it close.

I had to quit over at the furniture store. The place held bad a.s.sociations for me, but I would have had to quit regardless. My dad needed me all day on weekends. h.e.l.lo, swap meet city. Felt like I'd never left.

"What's up, Jess, how you been?" Joey called to me. "Christ, you're a monster monster!"

"Heard you been killin' 'em, Jess!" Ricky yelled. "Hey, big favor, you big f.u.c.ker, move this crate of Slim Jims for me, would you? I got an interested buyer!"

Soon after I started living with my dad again, football season tapered off. I got several awards, and we made it to the third round of the playoffs before being eliminated. I was all-conference in defense, and the coaches gave me this little plaque at our banquet. We were just a great team.

But my punk sensibilities dictated that when I was off the field, I was really really off the field. Within a week of our season's end, I was just a s.h.i.thead again. It was like I'd executed this really abrupt about-face: I had been disciplined for such a long period, kind of like a teenaged warrior. Now it was time for me to let off some steam. off the field. Within a week of our season's end, I was just a s.h.i.thead again. It was like I'd executed this really abrupt about-face: I had been disciplined for such a long period, kind of like a teenaged warrior. Now it was time for me to let off some steam.

The first thing I needed to do, I decided, was get back at the kid from Ramona High School who Rhonda had cheated on me with: John. John.

"Whatcha gonna do, James?" asked Bobby. He rubbed his hands together evilly. I knew he was itching to spill some blood.

"None of that, man," I said, smiling. "I'm going to try a more peaceful route."

That Friday evening, Bobby and I boosted a car, and we drove around until we found the Ramona party we were looking for. There were all kinds of Beemers and Jags and XKEs outside; Ramona was a much nicer high school than ours. It was where the rich kids went. As I slipped into the living room and made anonymous, Bobby went on a reconnaissance mission to find John. He located him in the kitchen, and immediately latched on.

"Lord almighty, did we f.u.c.king spank spank you guys this year!" Bobby sighed, snagging a Coors Light breezily from the twelve-pack that John was carrying. He cracked it open and began pouring it down his fat face. you guys this year!" Bobby sighed, snagging a Coors Light breezily from the twelve-pack that John was carrying. He cracked it open and began pouring it down his fat face.

"Hey, what's the idea, pal?"

"Suck it, chump," Bobby said, staring him down. "Ain't that right, John? Didn't we crush you? Didn't you guys bow down to the sanct.i.ty of our scrotal sacks?"

"s.h.i.t," John growled. "The game was close. Next year, we'll be right up there with you. Our offensive line has some incoming be right up there with you. Our offensive line has some incoming beasts. beasts."

They talked pigskin, but meanwhile, in the living room, I was inching up closer to John's girlfriend, Patty, a super-hot chick who was so cute that kids from other high schools all around Riverside knew who she was. She was a stunner, all right: a dark-haired girl with eyes that said she was smarter than your average cheerleader and an a.s.s that told you she was going to be one, anyway.

"Hi," I said to her. I nodded. "Nice party."

She grinned at me. "Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Jesse James," I said. "I'm a good friend of your boyfriend's."

"A good friend, huh?" She smiled at me mischievously. She was sipping some light-colored booze from a plastic winegla.s.s. "How come I never heard of you before, then?"

"Well, listen, I'll tell you a secret," I said, putting my head down close to hers. "We aren't really friends," I whispered. "It's more like, we share similar interests."

"Interests?"

"Yeah," I said. "Of course, it's highly confidential stuff."

"I want to know," she begged, laughing. "Please?"

"Well, okay, since you asked so nicely," I said, shifting my body even closer to hers. "Me and John, we're both very interested in beautiful girls. That's our thing. thing."

"Beautiful girls, huh?" said Patty, laughing. "I guess that's a good enough way to spend your time."

"The best," I said, bulls.h.i.tting freely. I guess I had a little swap meet in me after all. Gently, I put my hand on the small of her back and tried to guide her over to a more private spot.

"What's going on here?" she asked, still in her bemused tone.

"I'd like to speak with you about something in private," I said. I guided her to the small bedroom where everybody had been tossing their coats.

Patty looked at me with a spark in her deep brown eyes. "I'll give you sixty seconds, Mr. James." She handed me her drink as we stepped into the room. "Hold this for me?"

"My pleasure," I said, closing the door behind us.

We necked pa.s.sionately, laughing, rolling around on the bed of coats beneath us.

"Hey," said Patty, after a couple of minutes. "I better get back out there before my boyfriend misses me."

"Wait," I said. "Give me your phone number."

"Who do you think you are?" Patty asked, smiling.

I shrugged, and after a moment, Patty found a pen. Shaking her head, she proceeded to scribble out her digits on a ripped piece of paper, then handed it to me.

Gradually, I started stealing again. I shifted over to the Bobby school of theft, which is to say, based less on deception and more around the fact that I figured no one would f.u.c.k with a beast like me. The way I saw it, I was huge and mean-looking, so why not capitalize? Food was by far my favorite thing to pilfer. I was always hungry. I would go into supermarkets and just pick up an apple, a banana, and a cake and walk out, eating them. No one ever said boo.

One day, during lunch period, I found myself in the Circle K. It was only a couple of blocks away from school. Often I'd go there during a free period to leaf through the bike magazines or the new Penthouse. Penthouse. On this particular afternoon, I felt hungry, so without even thinking about it, I reached out and jammed a b.u.t.terfinger in my pants. I didn't even consider what I was doing. I just kept reading the magazine casually. On this particular afternoon, I felt hungry, so without even thinking about it, I reached out and jammed a b.u.t.terfinger in my pants. I didn't even consider what I was doing. I just kept reading the magazine casually.

"Hold it right there," came a voice from behind me. "You're stealing!"

A big, bald guy grabbed my shoulder. He was wearing the orange uniform of the K, and he was glowering at me.

"What are you talking about?"

"This," he roared, and triumphantly he seized the b.u.t.terfinger out of my right front pocket. "I'm calling the cops, cops, f.u.c.ko." f.u.c.ko."

"h.e.l.l you are," I said. "I was going to pay for that. You just didn't give me enough time."

"Come on, you're coming with me." He took my collar roughly and tugged at me.

"Dude," I said. "It's a f.u.c.king candy bar, candy bar, man." man."

He only yanked harder. He tugged at my collar with as much power as he had in his big arms. "Let's go, now."

Without even thinking about it, I decked him in the face. He dropped like a load of sc.r.a.p, directly to the floor, screaming in agony. "Here's your b.u.t.terfinger," I said casually, as I threw the candy bar and it bounced off his head. "See ya later."

Moronically, I thought that was it: I figured, hey, situation taken care of. Apparently, I was very wrong. Half an hour later, in my algebra cla.s.s, cops came and knocked on the door. They held a quick conference with my teacher, pointed at me, and hitched up their police belts.

"Mr. James? We'd like you to come with us."

I was hauled into juvenile custody. The Circle K guy had easily figured out who I was-that was the downside of being one of the biggest kids at the school, I guess. He wanted me charged with a.s.sault, which is what happened. I got the kids' version of aggravated a.s.sault, and they threatened to send me to the California Youth Authority for a thirty-day period.

"So why don't you?" I asked, p.i.s.sed.

"We know you've done well for yourself in football. We think you can help this community. So we're going to give you probation instead."

I was introduced to my probation officer then, a fairly attractive older woman who wore a gold crucifix around her neck.

"I'm Ms. Torres, Jesse," she said sternly. "I'd like you to explain to me what happened."

"Sure," I said. "A guy grabbed me. So I hit the f.u.c.ker in his face."

"He grabbed you without provocation?" Torres said dubiously, glancing down at her paperwork.

"Yes," I insisted. "In fact, I'd like to request that he be charged for a.s.sault. Can we do that here?"

"The gentleman in question says that you were shoplifting from him, Jesse," she remarked.

"Sure," I said. "Stands to reason he'd say that. It shifts the blame from the real guilty party: him."

Ms. Torres folded her arms and stared at me. "Why don't I believe you, Jesse?"

"I can't control what you believe, Ms. Torres. I can only speak the truth." I nodded toward her crucifix. "We'll have to leave it to the big guy upstairs to decide, right?"

Torres frowned. "Jesus has more pressing matters to attend to, Mr. James, than your tall tales. For now," she said, "you are under my supervision. Is that understood? Keep out of trouble. No more altercations."

Whatever. I figured it was all bulls.h.i.t. It was more fun being a knucklehead. Bobby and I roamed around, sizing up burger stands and electronics stores, fantasizing that we were going to knock off another one when the mood seized us.

"Wouldn't you love to get a taste of that, James?" Bobby said, leering at a Burger King shutting down for the night.

"You bet," I agreed. "A nice big score, set us straight for the rest of the year."

We had plenty of company in a.s.shole-dom. Teenaged Riverside thieves gathered around Bobby like he was king s.h.i.tpile. There was one kid who fairly idolized him. He was an auto thief who collected Clubs-as in "The Club"-just to be a ma.s.sive d.i.c.k about it. The crowning achievement of his life was the double closet in his bedroom that, no bulls.h.i.t, contained a six-foot-high mountain of Clubs.

He was so proud of that mountain. He'd slim jim his way into a car, take a pair of bolt cutters, and snip through the steering wheel, which is just wire underneath the padding, and slide the Club off. Sure, the steering would go all wobbly after he did that, but hey, that wasn't his problem, right? He wasn't going to be driving that car for very long, anyway.

We pinched cars and cut them up. We sold them to various sc.u.mbags for next to nothing, or ripped them apart and tried to deal the parts. On weekends, I was chained to the swap meet for my dad. But on weeknights, I'd drive into L.A. and hang out at Golden Apple Comics, with my cousin Dave and his girlfriend. She had a Silver Surfer tattoo on her forearm, which was pretty hard-core for the eighties. Golden Apple was down on Melrose, and they stayed open pretty late. We'd geek out on comics for hours at a time.

After a couple of months of hanging out there, the owner of the store started looking at me all funny.

"Hey, kid. Come over here."

I looked at him suspiciously. "I haven't stolen anything, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, it's not that," he said. "Listen, I need a big kid like you to work security for me. We got an event coming up tomorrow night, and my regular guy's busy. You ever work security before?"

I shook my head. "What do I have to do?"

"You just make sure no one gets in without paying. And once they're in, you gotta see to it that no one stuffs anything in their pants. Not rocket science."

"What do you pay?"

"Fifty bucks a night, plus you get to listen to everything, front row. How's that for a deal, kid?"

I agreed for the pure h.e.l.l of it. I thought it was very funny: me of all people making sure no one pilfered anything. But then I decided to take the job seriously. Golden Apple had a lot of great readings in those days. Charles Bukowski came around two different times when I was working. The second time he was there, he brought me several signed first editions of his books. I really had no idea who he was until years later. I just liked him because he was the crusty, angry type of f.u.c.ker I'd gotten used to at the swaps. when I was working. The second time he was there, he brought me several signed first editions of his books. I really had no idea who he was until years later. I just liked him because he was the crusty, angry type of f.u.c.ker I'd gotten used to at the swaps.

The days pa.s.sed, and soon I missed having a girlfriend. Before long I got it into my head that I'd like to try making Patty into Rhonda's replacement. Beyond the fact of knowing it would p.i.s.s off that John kid no end, she was just really adorable. I called her up a couple of weeks after the party to see what the deal was.

"So, I was just thinking about you," I said.

"I was thinking about you, too," she confessed.

"That's great," I said. "Well . . . are we gonna get together sometime?"