Chapter 4 A Chance to Catch Up
San Francisco, 2012
JJ Carlisle leaned back into the expensive leather rear seat of his sister’s husband’s car. Tony drove, fake casual, an arm draped over his seat towards Jackie but fingers tapping nervously, giving himself away. Jackie sat upright, her head zooming back and forth, part watching the road, teeth clenched, probably pushing an imaginary brake as Tony wove through traffic. And part earnestly talking at JJ, trying as ever to “engage him,” to “bring him out.” All those psychobabble techniques she had been using for years.
He snorted back a laugh, suddenly reminded of being driven places by his dad. As a teenager, after his sisters had moved away – being stoned and almost cracking up at everything he saw, while his dad drove the car, and whoever was the current girlfriend tried to chat him up, all fake friendly.
He watched his sister’s expression change to one of annoyance. The frown line she’d had since she was like 15 was now permanent, and it deepened. “It’s not funny,” she said.
“What?”
“That they’re worried about you. JJ, getting taken to jail is serious, even if you got right back out.”
JJ pffted his lips, trying to replay the last bit of their conversation in his head. He hadn’t been paying much attention, just nodding while Jackie droned on about whatever. Their dad and Amelia, that was it. “I’ll be cool,” he said. “I’ll reassure them. They won’t stay mad.”
“They’re not mad so much as concerned. They’ve probably seen that video on the news by now. It’s not a pretty picture. Whatever your lawyer is telling people, you’re the one who knocked that guy down.”
“He ran into me,” JJ answered. Exactly what the lawyers said to say to anyone who asked, not to mention the truth. As far as he could remember the guy was on the floor before he’d even seen him coming. Anyway, the point was corporate greed.
“You were there, right in the front of what I’m sure they would see as an angry mob. You could have just held a sign or something, couldn’t you? You were screaming at the guy.” She sighed audibly. They had been over this. “Plus you know they’re going to ask about if you have any job leads.” Jackie’s eyes darted downward. It was obvious she wanted to know too – this was just her little way of asking without being rude.
He turned toward the window. They were on the Bay Bridge now, shooting by trucks and slower moving sedans. He could barely make out the water down below. In Oakland, those huge shipping container devices at the port stood like lumbering dinosaurs, unused.
That’s the sort of job he should have had, JJ thought. Something real, a genuine union job with good pay and benefits, and a built in brotherhood of solid guys to work with, sharing the load. Ha, remember those old days. Those kinds of jobs were gone now, sucked away by multinational corporations, and thus his own involvement in the Occupy movement.
He had started in San Francisco, being that’s where he lived. But they got kind of wussy, too willing to compromise or make nice with the cops. Occupy Oakland felt more real. That’s where he would be today, if not for getting dragged off by Jackie, and that had been his main movement before the thing at the bank went down. JJ felt a streak of anger shoot through him, again, just remembering the indignity. How the cops had treated him, the stuff press people yelled, their stupid questions.
“He’s not going to answer,” Tony said to Jackie, in that high mincing corporate voice of his, loud enough for JJ to hear.
He turned his focus back to the car. His so called job prospects. Ignoring Tony, JJ addressed his sister. “You can tell Dad and everybody at the country club that I plan to have some contract stuff lined up shortly. Friend of a friend, actually, who saw me on TV and also remembered the programming I did at MoDoCo.”
“Well that’s good, JJ. In your field, right? Is it a start up?”
“Dude, enough with the questions. I don’t know, we just texted.”
That much was true. Point of fact, the guy was mostly just saying damn, I can’t believe I know someone on TV, as if he was bragging to a bunch of nerds at a bar (or gathered in a basement more likely). That JJ had the muscle to knock a guy down, when the rest of them had chickened out of every fist fight since the second grade. But he had texted, they had gone back and forth about JJ’s programming work and that he’d now consider doing more of it. And that fell under the definition of having stuff lined up, right – anyway, enough of a so called lead for the family to chew on and be satisfied.
“I can’t believe Dad’s turning 80. It’s crazy.” Jackie reverted to the topic she had been discussing at length and in detail to anyone who would listen for weeks now. Months. “He really looks good for 80, doesn’t he? I mean, he seems younger now than he did 15 years ago.”
“He’s got a good attitude these days,” Tony said. Also about the three hundredth time he had repeated those words. Usually followed by some observation about how marrying Amelia and moving to California had done him a world of good.
“Totally,” JJ exclaimed, knowing Jackie would pester him until he gave some sort of chipper positive response.
Now they were off the bridge. Jackie and Tony muttered about which lane they needed to be in. Tony, ever patient, let her tell him how to drive, never mind he had driven this route a million times before. He should just let her drive his car, JJ thought. If they hadn’t picked him up, for sure the two of them would be in her two seater. He had offered to take BART over, call the house from the station. But she would have none of that, it was no problem, they would love to pick him up, what a great chance to catch up.
Jackie didn’t trust that he would actually show up if she didn’t personally escort him. JJ grinned to himself. She had a point. He would make it over eventually, probably, but no way this early. No way with his own present, where she had instructed him to add his name to the card attached to a giant wrapped box perched next to him in the back seat. An amazing birdhouse, one of a kind, just the type he wants, she had whispered proudly, from all three of us.
Typical Jackie. As usual, JJ felt a contradictory set of reactions – appreciation that now his ass was covered and annoyance that of course she decided on the gift and purchased it, took total charge of the thing while assuming he and Joy wouldn’t get it together themselves without her doing it all. The party, she probably would have done the whole thing herself except for Amelia’s intervention.
Amelia, according to Jackie, had insisted on no surprises, and on having it at their house out in Orinda, even though the city would have been more central for lots of the guests. JJ had listened to her whole rant about the thing back on the way home from Christmas dinner. God, you’d think it was a meeting to bring peace to the Middle East, from the importance she gave every nuance.
Amelia had severely culled the guest list too, insisting on only close friends and family. Jackie, JJ was sure, saw this as some sort of defeat in the grand competition of life of who has the most friends and admirers. Jackie, who still posted near daily status updates on facebook and boasted several hundred “friends.”
JJ would rather the thing was in the city just for convenience sake, but he could see how Dad would much prefer people coming to him. He was actually a little surprised that Amelia had stood up to Jackie like this. She always made such a point of being nice to all of them, supportive, even pushing Dad’s ties to his original family. But Amelia was like a rat terrier, he’d heard her daughter Karen say, when it came to protecting those she loved. And anyway, Amelia liked gatherings that were mostly family.
“When’s Joy getting there,” JJ asked. Joy was the only one of them who hadn’t migrated west. Not quite the prodigal daughter, but she didn’t come to visit as often as Jackie or Amelia thought she should. Dad, JJ thought, probably didn’t notice. He was probably relieved that she wasn’t living her lesbian life style where he would have to better acknowledge it.
“She’s be
en there,” Jackie exclaimed. “I know you’ve been busy getting fighting your charges and all, but haven’t you been paying attention? She flew in two days ago. Supposedly she’s helping set up.”
Jackie and Tony exchanged a glance. JJ had long learned to ignore that sort of comment. He had neither awareness nor interest in whatever might be brewing between his sisters. Or maybe that was just some sort of anti-lesbian comment, like too bad it wasn’t JJ who was gay, then they’d have a good decorator in the family. JJ hid his smirk, head aimed back toward the window.
“Karen’s going to get there early to help, though Bill might be late,” Jackie continued. “And Bethany will help, I think, though I guess she’s coming separately from Cal. Can you believe she’s in college already? But neither of the boys can make it. Apparently they’re planning to Skype with them.”
JJ felt her eyes on him, possibly looking for some props that she knew how to Skype. He nodded, making a note to himself to avoid that boring exchange between the 40 something “boys” and the step-dad they’d barely met.
Tony, signaling carefully, pulled into the left lane entering the Caldecott tunnel. JJ closed his eyes, a moment’s peace from the chattering. All the cars’ noises echoed in his ears, and lights from the sides of the tunnel flashed on his closed lids. It was strangely comforting. Where most people said they went out into nature to relax, or sought out silent monasteries where they could meditate, JJ found himself most at rest in the midst of noise and lights and fast movement. Another thing to like about Occupy Oakland, he thought. He was pretty sure he could tell people that and they would understand, or at least shrug their shoulders. Where the crunchy ideologues in SF would recoil in delicate horror at him for feeling that way. Or at least for admitting it out loud.
JJ was roused from his thoughts by their arrival. Good thing Tony was driving; even if he’d borrowed a car, no way he could remember the last few winding streets that led to Dad’s little house.
Orinda sucked. It was this cute little town, one of a precious string of them called LaMorinda, in a valley in the eastern East Bay. Nauseatingly cute stores in a little downtown, streets weaving up into the hills, McMansions and overpaid yuppies who hired gardeners and didn’t pay them fairly.
To be fair, Dad and Amelia’s house was normal sized, small even, just room for the two of them and a couple tiny guest rooms for visitors. They had bought over a decade ago, before the tech boom peaked, when real estate hadn’t gone crazy yet at least that far from Silicon Valley. Dad had moved out just a couple years after he himself had, persuaded by Amelia that their roots were mostly gone from the east anymore.
JJ thought back to it, himself in his 20s, weirded out at the idea that not only his sister and stepsister but now his father would be living nearby. As it turned out though, he really didn’t see the parents very much, it wasn’t different from when they were back east. Amelia was the difference really – her coming into the picture meant old Dad suddenly remembering he had kids and when their birthdays were and Sunday phone calls just to say hi.
As it turned out, he thought, he was an idiot not to have bought a house of his own out here. He could have – he could have! Straight out of college (he hadn’t even finished to get his degree, not that that mattered to anyone then), JJ had been hired by Oracle. Then moved to Cisco, and then on to his first start up, in each case taking stock shares with him, selling them back as they zoomed upward in value.
Stock options instead of salary, the norm of seeing profits explode, and people his age driving brand new cars and buying condos in the city, bidding them up before they had even been fully built. JJ had not wanted the hassle. Yes he got a new car, but the whole home ownership thing, not into it at 25. Where now at, God, he choked on the number, 38, too damn bad he hadn’t invested in some little place like this. Bought and then sold at the peak, made another cool million and this time frigging kept it.
JJ shook his head. Not the time to start bumming out about his lost millions. Rather, he plastered a goofy smile on his face and followed his sister into the house.
Dad offered bear hugs to everybody just inside, a smile goofy but wide and genuine on his leathery face.
“Hey Dad, how old are you again?” The living room was festooned with streamers and balloons, a huge Happy 80th sign drooping off the wall over the sofa.
“Well, look at the TV star,” Dad roared back. “I always dreamed of a son who’d break a baseball record. Guess this will have to do.”
Jackie and Tony chuckled appreciatively. You could tell Dad had been repeating this line to everyone he saw.
Amelia scurried up, talking in a flurry about where to put coats and presents and the cake being late and would they like a drink or should they wait until it officially started. She was dressed in some kind of fancy gown, way beyond her normal older lady sweater and slacks. Even her hair was piled on her head. JJ nodded along as Jackie complimented her, unsure himself of what to say. Glancing back, he realized Dad was in a suit.
He cast a quick look down, having spaced out what he had put on this morning. Nice khakis, a striped sweater that had been a gift. Jackie had specified when she called to say when they’d pick him, he remembered, no holes, no logos, no jeans.
Their sister Joy bounded in from the kitchen. “You’re here, finally, hi you guys.” In a rush she grabbed each of them with one handed hugs, the other clamped somewhat desperately to her beer bottle.
Jackie issued a quick series of directions about the present, and Joy started in about the food in the kitchen. JJ exchanged a look and a shrug with Tony and followed her back. “You stay there and greet people, Dad,” Joy admonished. “Just pretend you don’t know what’s going on in here.” She wiped her hand on her pants – also khakis; had Jackie told her what to wear too?
Every surface in the kitchen was laden with food or glassware or some weird decorative item. Amelia, lucky for everybody, didn’t care about her kitchen being taken over like this, not the way their mom probably would have. Back a zillion years ago before she kicked him out.
JJ waited, feeling over large and in the way, until Jackie assigned him a task of slicing some vegetables. He wanted a beer, but thought he had better wait a little while. Joy got some slack cut, probably since she’d been dealing with all this for two days.
Shortly there was another high pitched roar from the front, and then their stepsister Karen squeezed into the room, arms wrapped protectively around a giant bakery box. Her kid Bethany followed, softly saying hi to everybody. She had a funny mix of emotions on her face – partly laughing with her mom, caught up in the excitement of the party and whatever disaster almost averted the cake, partly slouching, cool, bummed to be the youngest person around by almost 20 years.
The women’s voices rose all around him. Amelia had come back too, all of them cooing over the food and cake and decorations. Karen saying about the traffic in Berkeley, madness in the bakery parking lot – destined to be another saga in the family lore, something to be repeated later at every gathering to entertain the new people never mind bore everyone else to death.
Joy slipped her bottle into the recycle bin, wiping her hands further on her pants, that were now both damp and stained. At Jackie’s look, she exclaimed, “I have a skirt, don’t worry. I’ll go change.”
JJ looked at the refrigerator, mind again on a beer. Or something – something about all those familiar voices just made him want to get buzzed as quick as he could.
“They’re in the ice chest,” Joy said to him, tilting her head to the back porch.
“If you don’t think it’s too early to start,” Jackie added, as usual eyes in the back of her head to pay attention to every conversation around her.
JJ shrugged. When the sisters started bugging him, he lost interest in behaving appropriately. “I don’t, actually.” He saw Bethany watching. “Want one too? Are you old enough yet?”
Bethany shoo
k her head, taking half a step backwards away from both him and Karen. He expected her to say something about the YouTube thing. Karen couldn’t have kept her from seeing it, could she, for Christ’s sake, Bethany was in college. He popped open his beer and took a couple long, comforting swigs.
As Jackie took over the final food prep, the others drifted away. Except for Tony, who stood at her side obeying her every command like one of their well trained dogs.
JJ stepped into the living room. A couple of their neighbors had arrived, more old people. So the party was official. JJ watched Bethany edging along the far side of the room, politely addressing one of the old ladies. It was possible she was avoiding him.
Across the room, Amelia had Dad posed under the sign, giving a thumbs up, while somebody took a picture. Dad did look happy, JJ thought. Amelia did too, standing there leaning toward him, arm looped comfortably through his. She always did, though, she was a naturally cheerful sort of person.
Dad, though – to see him here now, retired with plenty of time on his hands, interested in golfing and gardening, perfectly content to accompany Amelia to the Farmers’ Market or have a leisurely dinner with his kids – you’d hardly recognize the man JJ remembered from being a kid. JJ recalled those weekend visits he would have, especially once the girls were away. He would be fed and entertained, asked the usual questions about school or sports, but mostly he just felt like he was in the way. Dad would suggest he watch TV and then busy himself with work he had brought home, or long phone conversations. Or if he had a girlfriend, they would eat together and then the woman would make a point of leaving, when you could tell it was normal for her to stay over, that both of them wished he wasn’t there in the way.
Well, those were old times, dead and gone. People might look now at JJ, people who had known Dad for awhile. Remember him as the black sheep, the one who didn’t care enough to study and get good grades, who dropped out of school, who had no interest in anything to do with Dad’s type of work. (What even was it, insurance oversight, hospital administration, something about risks in hospitals? Not that Dad had much been around to talk about it.) Or they may recall JJ the young computer whiz. He could specifically remember dad using that phrase to introduce him back then, so dorky and funny.
But the point was, all of them had shed their old skin a few times over the years. Dad, JJ himself. How once everybody, himself included, thought he was like a genius boy from all the easy money he used to make, the quick product turn arounds at start ups (always someone else’s ideas though, weren’t they). Joy going from maybe bi to radical lesbian to let’s just stick with marriage rights and monogamy and a decent job in the city. Amelia, who had already had a long happy marriage, three kids of her own – Karen’s father had been a lot older and had died, something sudden and unexpected twenty years back – now attached to Dad like it was meant to be.
Jackie was suddenly standing in front of him, cheeks bright and grinning, maybe tipsy herself. “Mingle,” she whispered. “Don’t just stand there like it’s all your oyster.”
Before he could argue, she popped a freshly baked cookie into his hand. Like a little reward to make her criticism less harsh. “Okay,” he said, taking a bite. “Thanks.” Jackie, of everyone he knew, had probably changed the least.
JJ moved farther into the room, obedient, resigned to his fate. Even as he “mingled” though, he wondered how his friends were doing today at Occupy. The Saturday demos and take overs had shrunk in size, but recently been rebounding. “F- the Police” was what a lot of people were calling them – the local cops had alienated everybody so much that part of the deal was just to mess with them too. A fair amount of the original people were gone, but different people joined. Some came and went. Every news hit seemed to swing equal numbers one way or the other, one bunch saying it had all gotten too violent, they should just hold their signs and be quiet, another newly radicalized, frothing at the mouth to do more.
The hours passed, quick enough. JJ was surprised the thing didn’t drag more, actually, but Amelia and Jackie kept the food and activities coming. Food, cake, funny speeches. Gifts, posing for photos, more food.
Sometime around nine the last guest was ushered out, and just family remained. Dad slumped in his favorite chair, looking beat.
“Oh, my,” Amelia said, lowering herself to the couch next to JJ. Her hair had come undone at some point, and she had a large sweater wrapped around her dress; she looked more like her normal self again. “We’re not used to being on our feet for so long. We’re usually thinking about bed at this hour, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. Tony,” she called toward the kitchen, “I can take care of those tomorrow!”
“Let him,” Jackie said. “He’s likes having something to do.”
Tony was loading the dishwasher and rinsing wine glasses, conveniently away from the rest of the family’s quick to commence blow by blow of the just finished party. JJ wished he had a car now, or the excuse of a last BART train to catch. Instead he sprawled on the other side of the couch, hand dangling toward a nearly empty bowl of chips.
Jackie was already quizzing Dad about who was this person, why hadn’t this other one shown up, what on earth was that other lady wearing. Like she had a schematic of the whole invite list in her head. And memorized what each had on, what present they brought, how early or late they arrived. Joy butted in now and then with her take; good luck anyone else getting a word in when the two of them got into it.
“Well, JJ, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Amelia said, her voice low and quiet. She sat toward him, patting his knee as if he was a child. “Now I know there are many perspectives to this whole Occupy movement. No traditional leadership, different goals. But I was worried about you in particular. Why the…” she faded out for a moment. “You seemed more angry than the situation warranted, I guess I’m trying to say.”
So apparently everybody, even the elderly, had seen that clip. JJ glanced over at Dad, who looked mostly asleep despite Jackie and Joy’s lively analysis. And back to Amelia, whose expression was more serene than judging. Something about her mellowness made him hold back from how strongly he would normally present his case here. “I think anger is the point,” he answered. “It’s easy for all the people in those companies to be like, I didn’t take your house, I didn’t give you the bogus loan, I just work here. But, really, they are part of it.”
Amelia gave a slow nod. “So if they’re not part of the solution, they’re part of the problem? That’s what we used to say in the 70s.”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean everybody’s so freaking complacent, you know?”
Amelia sat there, like she was actually thinking about what he had said. Unlike anyone else around here. “So it’s kind of a frustration that most people don’t feel the sense of urgency that you do? Or that people who are not being immediately and directly impacted – even though, say their pensions may be taking a hit or they can’t afford to sent their kid to college – they’re acting like the financial crisis is not their problem?”
JJ sat up straighter, surprised. “Yes, exactly. All these people are just struggling along in their little jobs, or begging to get any kind of stupid job, and not getting that the whole system is screwed. There’s systematic exploitation by a very few towards the 99 percent.”
“I do understand that, that idea that it’s large and systematic,” she said, eyes meeting his and an anxious sort of smile on her face. “But I can’t help but worry that some of the tactics are just going to alienate the very sort of people you’re talking about. People who might understand the issues at an economic level see people in masks throwing things at the police and they don’t think that’s their kind of movement.”
“The police are bringing that on themselves,” JJ said, keeping his voice a near whisper, not wanting Jackie to start haranguing him again. “They’re coming at us in riot gear and purposely entrapping people. They tore down o
ur camp with, like, no warning. They want protesters to start something so they can bust heads, I’m serious.”
“I wonder if that’s all the officers or just a few. Same with the protesters. It does seem to me that things are escalating very quickly based on just a few bad apples. If there was just some way to isolate the worst of both sides, the police who are looking for an excuse to rough people up, and the protesters who are using the cover of the crowds to rile people. In a rather cowardly way, I might add.”
JJ turned away for a moment. She had a point, for sure there were some cops who looked like they pretty much hated their jobs and wished they could be home watching TV or something instead of lined up in battle gear. And certainly some 99 percenters who felt that way. “But let me ask you,” he said. “Do you think the media would cover any of our issues if everybody just stood there holding signs? If there was no conflict?”
Amelia smiled, her eyes crinkling up both happy and wise. “That’s a valid point. But I have to ask you back: when the media does cover any of this movement, do they understand what these issues are? Can anyone really articulate them? Because it mostly seems like a bunch of young men yelling.”
Before he could get an answer together – that there were men and women both, young and middle aged, that the website had information, or would soon, that you can’t judge anything based on TV news – Jackie interrupted to insist they move the furniture back. Which, as usual, meant he and Joy and Tony hauling things around, Jackie directing, Amelia assuring them it was fine, she and Dad could take care of it all later. Dad half dozing in his chair, barely aware the family was even in the room.
JJ figured he would have his flat to himself for awhile, getting home relatively early on a Saturday night. But no such luck. Two of his three roommates were there, plus Oscar had a friend over. They were zoned out in front of the TV, some weird horror movie on, the kind that’s part scary, part funny.
JJ stood for a moment, watching, and barely realized when he sank into his chair. Oscar and his friend were sprawled across the battered old couch, looking pretty stoned. Their new roommate sat straight backed on the floor, in some kind of yoga pose. She twisted her head back to tell him the names of the main characters. JJ glanced over at Oscar to see if he had a joint to offer, but apparently not.
Oscar stared at the screen, grinning. It was his TV, a big flat screen that he’d gotten a year or so ago. Most of the furniture and stuff in the flat was his, actually, the couch and a pair of raggedy chairs, the kitchen table and mismatched stools, the microwave and dishwasher. Oscar had lived here for some crazy amount of time, like 25 years. Rocking on SF rent control. He didn’t say how much the total rent was, but JJ was pretty sure that he wasn’t paying any of it, he just collected rent from the others and then wrote the check as master tenant.
But JJ couldn’t really complain, since the rent was damn low compared to what he would pay on his own. What he had been paying before he landed here, three years back. It had been that long, longer actually, since he a regular type of job. Full time, benefits, all those perks people used to take for granted. Shit, that he had hardly used, JJ thought. Recalling buzzing by the free food in the cafeterias, preferring the local Indian place. Never even visiting the gym they had available during his time at MoDoCo.
Now, JJ laughed to himself, didn’t he wish he had access to a shower that someone else kept clean. Or imagine having facilities like that available for the Occupiers. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. He looked over at Oscar – Oscar was basically a full time activist, although he said he was too old for camping out. His back had spasms and stuff, and of course he needed the medical weed, didn’t want to toke up in front of the SFPD. But he was still involved in SF Occupy.
JJ wondered if any of them had connections still with possibly sympathetic tech firms. The drag there was that nobody had those kind of facilities anymore, he was pretty sure. People were back to starting their firms in a garage, or more likely a Starbucks with wifi using just their iphones. Anyway, this wasn’t the time to mention it. Oscar pretty much looked like he wouldn’t remember anything they talked about tonight.
Daytime, not stoned, the guy could be sharp. He was a good idea person, he had been urging Occupy to keep up momentum after the main camp shut down at Justin Herman Plaza. Weekly marches to keep people from drifting away, and moving the targets, not just hitting the same old bank headquarters all the time. Branch offices (that too had been partly Oscar’s idea, not so great on implementation as it turned out). And finding people who had actually lost houses to foreclosure. Putting a face on the statistics.
Over in Oakland, after a lot of back and forth, they had backed off the port shut downs for awhile. Too much bad PR. Anyway, it was pretty damn easy to find foreclosed houses, though a lot of the people in neighborhoods wanted nothing to do with them. There was a racial component, JJ would admit. The movement didn’t technically have leaders, but the perception was that it did and that they were a bunch of white guys from elsewhere. Kind of what Amelia had mentioned.
JJ could see how an outsider would get that impression. For sure, the way the media played it, they would show the loudest, angriest protesters, and guess what, those were probably young white guys. He had been annoyed by the outsider slant of the coverage, by the way they kept harping on there being no message. Like if it didn’t fit on the wrapper of a Big Mac, it wasn’t a real message, he thought, recalling the weeks it took to hammer out their 15 point goal statement. Which the media would never reference, never mention the Occupy website, just lame stuff on posted up on their own.
It pissed him off more now that the mainstream media acted like the whole thing was over. You would think some idiot Republicans voting in the deep south were the only thing happening in the nation these days. Even though his quote, legal team said this was a good thing, that less coverage meant people moving on from that stupid guy at the bank, JJ felt increasingly impatient. He was ready to freaking move on.
He had been instructed to “lay low,” as if taking part in an 80s cop show. Until his case had wound through the system, he should not go anywhere near a news camera, and stay off even friends’ videos and postings. Stay strictly back of the pack in any demonstrations. That was annoying to JJ; he didn’t like to be part of the half assed crowd that might slip off for a latte when things got rough.
Truth was, he pretty much got off on the mike check form of communication, especially when he was being mike checked. Every phrase he uttered screamed out by the crowd, the most simple and elegant form of communication that no one could take away from the movement. Any phrase or idea sounded awesome like that.
A roar from the TV pulled his attention back. Zombies on fire. Good thing he didn’t have weed, this would give him nightmares, JJ thought. He watched the very fake fire shoot up, all flame and no smoke, nothing like an actual fire. There had been several cases of arson recently. JJ had been by the burnt out hull of one abandoned building, reeking of smoky chemicals. He had wondered at the time, and wondered again – was this a new tactic? Was he missing a new radical step forward?