THE TRUE BITTER END OF NEW YORK CITY

Dedications

To those who put true ART in the front of POP.

Authors’ Note

Rather than writing a traditional journal, I decided that I would write a short fictional story based on some true events, none of which I personally experienced. My reasoning behind this was that I believed I would better enjoy my time writing a fairly laborious three-thousand words if I was able to escape

reality. This piece has been written, in its entirety, by Kye Cole, with

references to the works of others.

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My sweet sixteen wasn’t so sweet. Actually, it was quite the opposite. By then, I had been violently torn from my friends and my family. My father sent me to a boarding school in

Connecticut, far away from where I had grown up because of what my father called “rebellious behaviour”. It’s not that I thought I was invincible, I didn’t. I know where it started, I

know where it ended, I know what happened in the between, but I don’t know what is going to happen now.

I can faintly remember my mother telling me that I should follow my dreams while ‘Blue Velvet’, one of her favourite

songs, played in the background, only a few minutes before her death. I’ve decided going to follow her advice. I

have been living at my fathers mansion for a year now, ever since boarding school finished, but my father is as

protective as ever. I nervously take out my phone and dial his number to tell him my decision, and I realise that he

isn’t going to take this easily. He answers “Hello, Elizabeth, is that you?” I reply, “Yes Father, it’s Lizzy. Look, I have something to tell you. Now that I’ve finished school, I’m going to become a musician. An artist.” I wait for what

seems like an eternity for his answer before it finally comes “What do you mean? After all I have done for you, you’re just going to become a singer? What glory comes with

that?”. I end the phone call. I never wanted glory anyway. My father has the whole world at his hands, but look what it

has cost him.

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I lived just outside of New York in a mansion with my two older sisters before I got sent away and I know that I must go back there if am to become a real musician. That is where all the best musicians are raised. I’ve never really caught public transport, so I am unsure what exactly I do. I approach the bus stop and a rather rough looking, decrepit bus pulls up towards me. The doors swing open and I get on. I innocently ask the driver “Will this bus take me to the heart of the city?” and quickly he snaps back with an answer “Yes. Sure. Whatever” he assures me in a croaky voice. I’m not sure I feel safe here, but I know that when I go back to New York it won’t matter how I feel because I’ll be at home with my music.

I sit down on a red faux-leather seat which is in the middle of the bus and it begins to move.

I play my music and plug my earphones into my phone, they’re just a cheap pair but they’re all I can afford after I was completely cut off by my father money wise when he sent me to boarding school. My favourite musician is Eminem, it just amazes me how his three-minute songs can tell a story spanning a life time. I’m also really into 50’s and 60’s Jazz singers, it was like a whole other time where everyone was only focused on making good music and not focused on selling it. I’m finally feeling what is like to be free. Truly free.

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My music is interrupted by calls from my Father. Each time I don’t answer, another one comes through. It’s almost like I get lost into the music and completely disconnect from what is happening in front of me every time I listen to my music, so being interrupted is really strange. I ignore the calls because I feel like I am in a moment of peace that I don’t want to be shifted from. When will my father accept that I am going to be my own person no matter what he says?

I focus back in onto real life, looking out the window on the bus to see the landscape growing more and more urban as we speed closer to where it is I need to go. The bus pulls up to its final stop and I begin to get up to leave. I get nervous as I finally realise that I’m about to start living my American Dream. I almost tumble from the bus onto the sidewalk, but being in the place where I had lived for so many years again settles me down.

Back when I used to live in New York, my Father never let me leave the Mansion, so the only time I really left was late at night when I snuck out with my friends and anyway, I never went very far, so I have no idea where I am going to go. That’s the beauty of the American Dream, though, isn’t it? You can start from nothing. The sky is starting to get dark, I check my phone and see that it is 8:00 PM. I decide I’ll just follow the path and see where it takes me. It’s not made of yellow brick but even better, it’s made of my destiny.

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It is really dark as I stumble through the grungy New York streets, but to me, it’s paradise. I’d never realised how artistic graffiti can be.

I have been walking for many tiresome hours and I finally approach an alley way that I must pass through in order to get where I am going. I accidentally bump into a man that smells of beer and cheap cigarettes. He tries to grab hold of me in a rough manner. He won’t let go of me so I start screaming for help. I can’t break free no matter how hard I try and I am starting to become very scared. I can see this tall dark figure heading towards me and my heart starts to beat fast. Everything around here is so fast paced. I ask myself “Is this really where I want to be?” The tall dark figure of a man is now standing directly in front of me and pulls out a handgun, aiming it at the visibly drunk man harassing me. We have many guns like this back at the mansion, although I’ve never seen one being used. “Let go or you die” proclaims the tall dark figure in a deep, almost husky voice. The drunken man runs off hastily. “I’m Dean” he says to me. I’m still scared. “Why would a pretty girl like you be here at this time of night?” he asks me. I’m a little bit reluctant to answer. “I ran away.” I confess to him. “I have nowhere to go.” “Follow me” he says, with an almost kind deviation of his usual voice.

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I slowly open my eyes to see Dean sitting beside me on a wooden chair, eyes fixed on me with intent. I must have slept here last night, but I have no idea where ‘here’ is. “Where am I?” I ask as I try to wake myself up. “You slept here, at my place” “Oh” I mumble as I stand up out of the large bed fitted with white sheets that I had slept in overnight. I walk over to the window, stumbling on account of the fact that I just woke up. We must be at least thirty floors above the ground. It’s pretty clear that Dean is quite wealthy just from being inside his apartment, although not very wealthy at all in comparison to my father. After admiring how high up we are, I sit down on the bed while Dean is still sitting adjacent from me on the wooden chair. Dean and I talk. It feels like staring into his brown eyes and watching their every intricate movement condenses hours. He asks me about where I came from and I try telling him about how my father sent me away to boarding school without making it sound like a sob story, but it inevitably does. He tells me of the wild we he rose to the top and the people he had to deal with on the way. He speaks with purity and passion, and I fall in love with him more every minute he speaks. “I don’t really have anywhere to stay at the moment.” I inform him “Well, I don’t have any company here right now. I mean, you could stay here if you were so very desperate.” He tells me, half-jokingly “Are you serious” I ask. I’m desperate for somewhere to stay until I can get my own place, and I certainly don’t want to go back to my fathers. “I’m serious, if you're needing somewhere to stay” “Yes! Yes, of course!” “Okay, I guess it’s settled, then!”

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I slowly open my eyes to see Dean sitting beside me on a wooden chair, eyes fixed on me with intent. I must have slept here last night, but I have no idea where ‘here’ is. “Where am I?” I ask as I try to wake myself up. “You slept here, at my place” “Oh” I mumble as I stand up out of the large bed fitted with white sheets that I had slept in overnight. I walk over to the window, stumbling on account of the fact that I just woke up. We must be at least thirty floors above the ground. It’s pretty clear that Dean is quite wealthy just from being inside his apartment, although not very wealthy at all in comparison to my father. After admiring how high up we are, I sit down on the bed while Dean is still sitting adjacent from me on the wooden chair. Dean and I talk. It feels like staring into his brown eyes and watching their every intricate movement condenses hours. He asks me about where I came from and I try telling him about how my father sent me away to boarding school without making it sound like a sob story, but it inevitably does. He tells me of the wild we he rose to the top and the people he had to deal with on the way. He speaks with purity and passion, and I fall in love with him more every minute he speaks. “I don’t really have anywhere to stay at the moment.” I inform him “Well, I don’t have any company here right now. I mean, you could stay here if you were so very desperate.” He tells me, half-jokingly “Are you serious” I ask. I’m desperate for somewhere to stay until I can get my own place, and I certainly don’t want to go back to my fathers. “I’m serious, if you're needing somewhere to stay” “Yes! Yes, of course!” “Okay, I guess it’s settled, then!”

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It’s 10 AM and after our long talk, Dean tells me that he needs to go to work. He is still wearing the same suit from last night. When he leaves, I turn the TV on, which is directly across from the bed that I’m sitting on. The movie ‘Lolita’ is playing. I don’t usually watch TV much but I recognise this from a movie night back in boarding school. The memories come flooding back to me, not like average waves but rather, like a Tsunami.

I remember partying, me and my friends would stay up all night, almost like a competition of who could party the hardest and party the longest. The teachers said we’d never make it out of school alive, and I guess that’s where the beginning of the end begun. I remember sneaking out with my friends (not going very far, but still being excited) because all we wanted was a taste of real life, a taste that we presumed would be sweet, but what were we to know? I remember breaking into the hotel late at night and swimming in the pool - not just so that we could swim, I mean, we had a pool at home, but so that we could feel the rush in our bones that we’d just done something that people would care about, whether it was right or wrong. And, as a consequence for all of the things we did, I remember waving goodbye to my old friends as I left the train platform, knowing in my heart that I’d never see them again. My friends were so beautiful. They wore ribbons in their hair, the most expensive dresses you had ever seen, and they would definitely never wear any item of clothing more than once, but deep inside they were cold. Cold like an arctic winter. When I think back, I try not to remember the bad, but it is always going to be there, no matter what I do.

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I hear a knock on the door. I’m a little reluctant to open it seeing as this is not my apartment and I am by myself. I walk over to the door and I open it. It’s just Dean. Well, not “just” Dean, I mean, he’s amazing! It’s the first time I’ve truly noticed his beauty. Strong and muscular, yet stylish. He’s holding a plastic shopping bag in his left hand. “I hope you weren’t too lonely during my absence.” he tells me, reassuringly “Not exactly.” I chuckle back.

“Lizzy, seeing as you’ll be staying here for a while until you can find a place of your own, I thought you might need these.” he says while pulling out some clothes from the plastic bag. “Versace! My favourite label! How did you know?” I scream, excited like a little girl. “I just went shopping and I thought these would suit you, no need to thank me!” he says, laughing at the same time. “You know Lizzy” he continues “You told me you’ve wanted to explore the very heart of New York for a while now, and we’re here, and we haven’t been exploring! What is up with that?” “Is this an invitation to explore New York with you?” “It certainly isn’t an invitation to explore Africa, that’s for sure!” he assures me, still joking.

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The wind in my hair is ethereal, and I feel secure as I walk through the city streets with Dean. Although there is a lot of beauty front of me to take in, my mind begins to wander. I’m curious, how did is Dean so wealthy at such a young age? “Where are your parents?” I ask him. “They’re from Canada” he answered “I moved here all by myself when I was 16. I had no money, no family and I was 16 in the middle of New York City. So, I guess you could say I’ve come pretty far.” We walked past a poster advertising a musical performance night at The Bitter End, a night club with ‘Anyone Welcome! Original songs only’ in big, red letters.

I thought about what Dean had said to me for a while, about how he came from nothing and now he has everything and about how far he has come in his life, and we are the same age! I have come to the conclusion that I will turn my ambition into something more valuable, and whilst I don’t know just yet what that is, I know that I am going to go to this performance night and I am show everyone what I’m made of. Of course, all I need now is an original song.

Dean and I are back at his apartment, together. All that I can think about is this performance night. I asked Dean for a guitar - an instrument I have a fairly low level of competence in playing, although at the same time an instrument that I could play if my life depended on it - and he gave me one that he had lying around. It is a nice guitar, made from a dark coloured wood with metal strings. I play a few chords while writing out some lyrics, just whatever comes to my head, and then a few minutes later I have written my song based upon some of my greatest inspirations in life - boarding school and the time before it.

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The lyrics are as follows:

Remember how we used to party up all night? Sneaking out and looking for a taste of real life

Drinking in a small town firelight Sweet Sixteen and we had arrived

Walking down the streets as they whistle "hi, hi!" Stealing police cars with the senior guys

Teachers said we'd never make it out alive There she was, my new best friend

High heels in her hands, swaying in the wind Oh, she starts to cry

Mascara running down her little Bambi eyes "Lizzy, how I hate those guys"

This is what makes us girls We all look for heaven and we put love first

Something that we'd die for It's our curse

Don't cry about it And that's where the beginning of the end begun

Everybody knew that we had too much fun We were skipping school and drinking on the job

With the boss Sweet Sixteen and we had arrived

Babies table-dancing at the local dive Cheering our names in the pink spotlight

Drinking cherry schnapps in the velvet night Yeah we used to go break in

To the hotel, glimmering we'd swim Running from the cops in our black bikini tops

Screaming, "Get us while we're hot, Get us while we're hot"

This is what makes us girls We all look for heaven and we put love first

Something that we'd die for It's our curse

Don't cry about it

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It’s the night of the performance. Dean is driving me to The Bitter End in his black Mercedes-Benz. It’s a beautiful car, and it’s certainly much better than the bus I was in a few days ago. The car stops out the front of the club and Dean opens his door, getting out of the car and walking around the front of it. He opens my door like a true gentleman and holds my hand, taking the guitar in his other. We walk down the street and into the club. Dean pays our entrance fee and we sit down at a table. The host comes onto the stage and announced “Here is one of our regulars, Stefani Germanotta!”. The host leaves the stage and on comes a short, brunette girl, she sits down at the piano. She has a strong and very powerful voice and the audience cheers loudly for her. The song is coming to an end and I can feel it it is my turn. I walk over to the stage and the host announces my name “Here is a first-timer for you - Lizzy Grant!”. The nerves kick in hard. I start playing the first chords and singing the first lyrics.

Remember how we used to party up all night Sneaking out and looking for a taste of real life

The crowd is dead silent. I can tell I’m singing off pitch. I try to sing as powerful as the girl before me, but I just can’t do it. Maybe it’s the nerves. Before I can correct my singing, I am already into the last chorus. I try to slow down so that I can give myself time to recover from the nerves and blow the audience away, but I finally mutter out the last few words. As soon as I’m finished, the crowd disapprovingly boos me off stage. A tear rolls down my eye. I run of stage and Dean runs towards me. “Just take me home” I wail to Dean. “Just take me home.”

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I have been in bed all day. I can’t gather myself to get up and Dean is at work. I’m trying so hard not to think

about what happened last night so I take out my phone and try to distract myself. I don’t want to feel like this forever, I need somebody to cheer me up. I make the decision to call my father for the first time since I left.

The phone rings a few times before he answers. “Hello?” he says

“Yes, it’s Lizzy” I reply “I thought I’d never hear from you again!” he says, like

he thought I’d been murdered or something “Father, however could I resist the massive urge building up inside me to call you?” I asked him,

sarcastically “Lizzy, I’m very glad to talk to you, but I’m really busy

right now. Where are you? Can I come see you?” “Yes, sure. Sure.” I give him the address I’m staying at

and we arrange for him to come and see me here tomorrow.

“Okay, Daddy. I love you so much. See you then!” I’m not going to lie, I do love my father very much, so of

course speaking to him for the first time in a while is going to give me some joy, at least enough to sustain

my day.

Dean arrives home and minute by minute our love establishes further. Our connection is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s almost like a giant

magnet is pulling us together and even if I tried to pull away the force is so strong that I am forever in his orbit.

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The day of my fathers visit is here. I’m partly excited because I want him to meet Dean, but I’m also partly excited because I feel like I’m back in boarding school again, seeing my father for the first in a month. I get out of bed and slip on some clothes that my Dean bought me. I want my father to know that I’m still his little girl, but at the same time that I now have my own amazing life to live on the streets of New York City. I had decided that I would keep my father visiting a secret to Dean until he arrived. I am so excited, I must break the news to him!

I step out of my bed and slip my white lace shoes on. I put some Eau De Parfum on my neck. I feel like I could take on the world. Or, at least I could take on my father. I feel my phone buzz. It’s a text message from my father. “Lizzy, I’m at the address you gave me. I’m sure the man your so in love with is great if he lives here. I’m coming up the elevator. See you soon”. It hadn’t really hit me that my father was going to to meet Dean until now. I run out into the living room where Dean is. “Dean. My father is coming. Here. Right now.” “Seriously?” “Seriously!” One thing I love about Dean is the fact I don’t need to tell him how to act. He’s just perfect. At least as perfect as a human can get. Dean goes to his room to get changed.

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I hear a knock on the door. The wood of the door against the fleshy knuckles of my father. I walk towards the door, Dean following closely behind. I open it as fast as lightning. My father. He’s standing there. “Hello, father!” “Lizzy, you know I prefer it when you call me Dad!” he tells me. Of course the first thing he says to me in person for days would be jokingly. He may be very protective, but it is because he loves me. Dean comes out from getting changed, looking as dapper as ever. My father looks at him and then instantly looks back at me. He looks shocked. “Lizzy. Can I have a talk to you out the front?”. I follow him as he exits Dean’s apartment. I’m just as shocked as he appears to be. I don’t know what is going on. I’m nervous. “Lizzy. I don’t know how to tell you this, but the man your in love with…” he says “What father? What?” I ask, begging him for answers “He’s wanted. He’s a wanted man.” “How do you know this? Father?” I ask, trying to hold back my worry “He’s been selling counterfeit stocks at a firm down the street from mine. They’re all going to jail” “J-jail? H-he can’t go to jail.” Stuttering as I try to make sense of the information I’ve just been told. I look over to my father. He’s on the phone. “Father! Who are you calling?” I ask, demanding to know. “The police. It needs to be done. I’m just protecting you from the bad in the world, Lizzy.” There’s my father. Always “protecting” me. “They’re on their way” my father tells me. I run into the living room where Dean is. “We’ve gotta get out of this place, NOW!” I scream at him, leaving him confused. I quickly try to explain myself before the police arrive.

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I see navy blue walk through the door and before I can realise it, Dean is handcuffed, crying, hysterical, naked of his former pride. In movies, beauty remains beautiful until the very end. Power remains powerful until the very

end. Both of these were true of Dean.

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There is an Allen Ginsberg poem called “Howl” where he talks about his beat-poet friends, saying “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness”. I am sure this is what I am experiencing. Dean was truly, without a doubt the best of our generation, and now the

beauty that surrounded him is forever destroyed.

I used to dream that I would find my people, and I finally did on the open road with nobody holding me back, but after a series of events that took an unexpected turn, I

lost somebody that I had held so close to my heart. And now, after those dreams became a horrible reality, I

don’t mind because they say “it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is” and all I ever truly wanted was to be free.

Thank you for reading.

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