by JL Davis
Back at home in the garage, I’m working on my grandfather’s sixty-nine Chevrolet truck. I was so glad that I wasn’t driving it the day I was locked up. I would have never seen it again. This truck was my grandfather’s pride and joy. He treated the truck like it was a member of the family, or something strange to that extent.
As my hand glides over the dashboard, thoughts of my parole officer arise. The guys were right. She’s tough, but I don’t think she will be with me. I don’t plan on giving her a reason to be. I’m sure under her rough exterior, she’s a genuinely nice person. She is tough and I think that’s just an act because of her job. She deals with assholes all day. Also, being a woman, it’s got to be hard for her to get respect from anyone there. I’m sure I was a delightful breath of fresh air compared to the many douches that come and go through her office.
After a tune up and a much-needed bath, the truck is in tip top shape as my grandfather would say. I think he would be pleased with it. I glance at the wall where a photo of us hangs. We’re standing in front of this very truck almost twenty years ago. It was taken just before my father overdosed and this became my permanent home. I wish my grandfather were still around. Working in the garage on the truck without him feels weird and it’s quite lonely if I’m being honest.
I gather up my tools and can’t believe it’s almost eight o’clock. I’d been out there for like five hours. Time always flies when working in the garage. I took a shower, tossed my robe on, and now I’m on my way to the kitchen in search of food. I realize I hadn’t eaten and that’s why I feel so sluggish.
After eating a black bean burrito and a protein smoothie, I sit on the couch and go down the list of potential jobs. I cross off the ones that I won’t consider unless there isn’t anything else, such as High-Rise Window Washers and Wal-Mart. I’ll pass on both of those. I don’t like heights and I can’t accept that the asshole customer is always right, or even half right.
Half way down the list I spot a familiar company name and shouldn’t be surprised to see their name on the list. Conrad’s Glass International. My grandfather worked there and retired after thirty-five years. He loved it and always spoke very highly of the owner, Jim, and the company as a whole. I guess you could say they were like family. I went to every function that family could attend. I had a crush on Mr. Conrad’s daughter. She was a few years older than me and never gave me a second glance, let alone a thought of us ever being a thing. Granted, I was only seven, but the heart wants what the heart wants.
My grandfather got onto me several times for following her around and staring at her. I couldn’t help myself. She was so beautiful, like an angel. I’ll never forget that she always wore bright colored jeans that hugged her ass just right, and her teeth, they sparkled when the sunlight hit her braces. I was completely hooked on her for most of my adolescence. Thinking back on it, I’m not sure why. She never gave me the time of day and I still worshipped her. Maggie Conrad. She was my first crush and she also caused my first broken heart and didn’t even have the slightest idea that she had done it. I never told her how I felt and definitely didn’t tell her how I felt funny when I was around her and that my dick grew. I guess back then I would have said privates.
I shake off my musings of the past and decide I’ll call them first thing in the morning to see if they have any positions available. Speaking of, I wonder what Maggie could be up to these days. Hell, it wouldn’t matter to me. I think I’d take anything at this point. Well, almost anything. I’m not desperate for just any woman putting herself out there.
After those gruesome thoughts, I still can’t help myself. I climb into bed, grab the lube from the drawer, and rub one out for like two minutes. I need to build up my stamina again. It’s worse than when I was a teenager. I won’t have a problem getting that task at hand done. There I go again. I may have missed my calling. I could’ve been a comedian and traveled around the world. Maybe that’s where the love of my life has been hiding.
I wake up to the loud sound of thunder, and lightning flashes through my bedroom window. I glance at my cell and it’s seven o’clock. I go ahead and get up with there being no chance of sleeping through this storm. I toss my robe on and head for the coffee pot. While I wait for my coffee to brew, I grab that list of jobs. I figure it’s probably better to call as early as I possibly can to show I have good work ethic or whatever. I do, I can be a good worker if they’ll give me the chance to show them.
“Hello! This is Bridget, how can I help you?” She’s awfully cheerful and I wasn’t quite ready for her before my first cup of coffee.
“Yes, I wanted to know if you may have any positions available?” I bite my tongue. I cannot laugh.
“Give me one sec and I’ll find out. I’m going to put you on a brief hold.”
The music is worse than her voice. I’m sure she’s as sweet as pie, but I need more coffee. I put my cell on speaker and grab a cup from the cabinet. Just as I begin to pour it, she comes back.
“Sir, thank you for holding. We do have two available positions if you’d like to come down and fill out an application. Can I have your name please?”
“Sorry, yes. I’m Cole Ferguson. I’ll come down within the hour. Thanks.” I need at least a full cup of coffee before I can deal with Ms. Happy.
“Wonderful. We look forward to seeing you. Have a super morning!”
Did she already forget that I said I’ll be coming there soon? I want some of whatever she’s drinking. That’s a super energy boost at seven in the morning. This looks promising. I find one of the very few shirts I have that could pass as decent enough to wear to fill out an application. It’s a warehouse job, so I don’t see the need to act as if I’m someone that I’m not. That’s not me at all.
Guys I used to hang out with would get all dressed up for a night at the club. They’d have way too much cologne on, shoes that cost more than their paycheck, and that’s if they bought them and not their mothers. They never had to worry about a second date and would wear that same outfit every weekend or they’d trade off. It was ridiculous. I can only imagine what they’re doing now. I hope better than they were back then, but it’s unlikely.
Hopefully tattoos aren’t a problem. There’s no way to hide them on my left arm unless I wear a sweater and I planned to wear my favorite rock band t-shirt, because it still fits, for the most part. I’m not trying to hide them. They are a part of me, of who I am, but they do not define me. I shouldn’t be judged by them. I grab a pair of jeans and socks on my way back to the living room.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I shout in shock at the person standing in my living room. To make things worse, I’m half naked from the waist down. This is mortifying. I just want to crawl in a hole and die. Is there a bus coming down the street that I can jump in front of?
“Mr. Ferguson!” I had no idea what else to say. I’m so embarrassed. “I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me come in. Surprise house call. I mentioned those, remember?”
“Yes. I do remember. I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so soon is all,” he says, as he quickly pulls his jeans up his legs.
I tried not to look. I just couldn’t help myself. I snuck an itsy bitsy, teeny tiny peek. Impressive and nothing itsy bitsy about it. I shake my head and get back to the reason I’m here. “Mr. Ferguson, I have a routine I like to follow upon visits. Just give me a quick tour. I won’t be super nosy. I won’t go through your things. I will ask you to open the refrigerator to be sure it’s not stocked like the local liquor store.” I try not to smile and fail miserably. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to keep the bitch act up with him. Once I smile and lighten the mood, Cole smiles nervously.
“Where would you like to start?” he asks.
“I see nothing that jumps out at me in here so let’s move on.” I glance at a few of the photos on the wall. He was a cute boy and looked to be close with his grandfather.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Cole follows close behind
me and opens the fridge as we walk past it.
“The biggest thing I want is guns, drugs, and other contraband that could jeopardize your parole; a violation. You don’t want those.” I start walking down a dark hall. Cole is close behind and flips the light switch on as I reach the first door. There are five doors. One is smaller than the rest which tells me it’s the HVAC closet.
“This was my grandfather’s study. He loved to read. It didn’t matter what it was, he’d read it. He read everything in this room,” Cole says, as he pulls an old book from a shelf and thumbs through it.
“It’s quite a collection. Some of these are first editions,” I say, surprised, as I run my finger across the spines of a few on a shelf.
“I know, and I was so glad to see that no one had stolen them. I had them appraised for insurance and he has about twenty-five thousand and that’s just the first editions. The total for all the books in this room exceeds well over one hundred thousand dollars.”
I try to hide the shock on my face. I’m surprised he hasn’t pawned them all, but I keep forgetting he’s not exactly like the others that I deal with on a daily basis. “I see no issue at all with books, Mr. Ferguson. Let’s carry on.”
“This was my grandfather’s bedroom. I haven’t been inside since his passing and I’d appreciate it if you understand and allow me to wait right here.” He points to the floor where he’s currently standing in the doorway to the bedroom.
As I walk back to the doorway, I look up at him and see his beautiful brown eyes. I can see flecks of green mixed in if I look hard enough. Stop looking hard enough. “I understand and don’t see the need to hover any longer.” I walk past him. My shoulder grazes his chest. His hard chest. They’re always so muscular. Why do I have to get the rock-hard ones, the ones who basically welcome me into their homes half naked. I’m exaggerating, but still. Why me?
“Thank you,” Cole whispers, as I step into the hallway. I glance up at him for a moment before I walk to the next door. “That’s my room,” Cole says from down the hall. “How much longer do you think this will take? I only ask because I was on my way to fill out a job application.”
“That’s great. I’ll peek in here and then get out of your hair. I haven’t seen anything that concerns me.” I open the door and see his bed against the wall. It’s very cold. The walls are white. There isn’t any décor of any sort, no curtains. At least he has sheets and a blanket on his bed.
I close the bedroom door and glance into the bathroom before I walk back up the hall. It’s sparkling clean. Nothing like the other bathrooms I regularly see, unless they’re married, living at home with a parent, or on meth.
“Did I pass the test?” Cole chuckles.
“You did, but as you can see, I will keep you on your toes. You never know when I might pop in again.” I wink. I winked. Why did I wink at him? I need sleep. I haven’t been getting nearly enough. That has to be the reason for my ridiculousness.
Cole laughs. I’m not sure I get why. It must have gone over my head. I’m not too good with jokes. I try, but I’m hopeless. “I got my truck going last night, so I’ll have no issues with transportation getting to and from anywhere.”
“Okay. That’s typically what a vehicle does for us. They’re pretty awesome. My car can start from inside my house.” I may not be funny, but I have sarcasm down. That’s for sure. By the look on his face, he’s shocked. “Cat got your tongue, Mr. Ferguson?”
Cole glances at me, unsure of how he should reply. “You’re quite a little firecracker, aren’t you? I don’t know what else to say to that that wouldn’t get me or my mouth into trouble.” Cole stares at me for a moment. He opens his mouth to say more but decides against it. He shuts it quickly and diverts his eyes to the floor. I can see his jaw tighten. Whatever he wants to say, he’s fighting hard not to.
Thinking about what I said, that probably wasn’t the most professional thing to say. For some reason I say things I shouldn’t with Cole. It’s pissing me off that he affects me and I’m no longer the hard-ass I usually am. I’m no longer his parole officer. I’m me, Brooke, and I can’t be. I did just see him half naked. Maybe that’s it. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen one, especially one that is so extensive in size. It just startled me is all. Yeah, that must be it.
“Mr. Ferguson, I’m extremely sorry that I showed up at the wrong time for you, but you need to know I could show up at any time. This helps to dissuade any bad behaviors and keeps you where you’re supposed to be.” I walk to the door. “I’ll let myself out. And I look forward to hearing from you about your job prospects.” I nod and shut the door behind me.
I release a long breath when I get into my car. I felt as if I were suffocating in that house with Cole. It’s not that it was dirty, or stuffy, or anything like that. It was hard to be around him, even after he was dressed. I should’ve come five minutes later. I should’ve waited for him to answer the door, instead of letting myself in. I can’t get that thing out of my head. I just drove past a bright red fire hydrant, and all I could see was Cole’s penis.
I’m so frustrated, I slap myself in the face as I sit at a red light. I look over and see a little boy staring at me with wide eyes. He looks terrified by what he’s just seen. I now feel worse than I did before. I give him a reassuring smile, as reassuring as can be considering what I’ve just done, and punch it when the light turns green. I must have looked like a crazy person.
I go to the only place that can help me when I feel like this. With this job, I get frustrated daily. Most of the parolees are extremely challenging and sometimes I want them to go back to prison. They end up back there sooner or later. I’d prefer sooner. It causes me a lot less stress.
I grab my bag from the trunk and walk straight to the locker room to change into my work-out clothes. I need to get a couple miles on the treadmill before I combust. I only have an hour before I need to be at work for my first meeting of the day. I already dread it. The guy is a sleazeball and I always want to take a shower after he leaves. After every meeting with him, I spray my office with Lysol. I feel like something could possibly jump onto my skin. He’s just gross and doesn’t practice good personal hygiene.
I watch from the window as she finally pulls away. That was quite an interesting and unexpected first visit. I’m sure even more so for her. I’ve heard more times than I can say that I’m blessed where it counts. I’m sure it’s made her day.
I’m twenty-seven and have nothing to show for my life up to this point. It’s kind of pathetic when I really think about it. That’s going to change today. I’ll fill out the application and maybe I can sweet-talk someone to help boost my chances.
I walk into the front office. Not too much has changed since I was here last. It’s been recently updated, but the footprint is still the same.
“Hellllo! How can I help you, cutie?” The overly happy receptionist asks with a smile full of teeth beaming at me.
I didn’t think I overdressed for this. She approves and that could possibly be beneficial to me. “Hi there. I think I spoke with you earlier about an application?” I know it was her. Small talk is always a good thing.
“Oh. Yes, you sure did. I have them right here for you.” She hands them to me, but doesn’t immediately let go of the papers. She lingers and it’s uncomfortable. “Let me know if you need any help.” She walks back to her desk. I notice the extra shake as she does, and I’m not impressed in the least. I guess she forgot to remove her wedding ring. Makes me sick. Why is this such a thing? It’s so sad. I don’t find it attractive at all when a woman is that way. It’s terrible people fall for that. The weak are always preyed on first. It’s a cheater’s only hope.
I stand and realize she’s left the room. I leave my application on her desk and sneak out undetected. I did not want to wait for her to return. I don’t want to be put in that awkward situation again. I wouldn’t say I was avoiding her. I’m stronger than anything she can dish out. She’s not my type whatsoever. I prefer the re
al type of woman.
Everything happens for a reason. I’m not quite sure yet why I was sent to prison other than my anger issues and poor judgement. Maybe it was to be rid of my cheating ex, because I’m not a horrible person, and I know there’s always room to improve. I’m not quite close enough to perfect as I’d like to be.
It took only a day to get a call back from the glass company. The owner was thrilled that I wanted to work for them. He wasn’t bothered one bit by my background and that he would’ve done the exact same thing if put in that situation.
Jim Jr. took over ownership when his father, Jim Sr., passed away from a heart attack about four years ago. We hung out together during the company functions, when I wasn’t drooling over his big sister. I wouldn’t say we were close, but he was always nice to me when we were together. That was a long time ago, though. I hadn’t seen him in about ten years, until last week when I went in for the interview. I would have never recognized him with the beard he’s now sporting.
It’s been almost a week since I started, and I can’t complain. Everyone’s been nice and I’ve learned the ropes quickly. Once they saw how fast I could go, they put me in charge of packaging the tiniest bottles I’ve ever seen. They’re half the size of my pinky finger with a cork in the top. Along with being tiny, they’re very delicate for my sausage fingers. Fifty go into a box. I then pack it with bubble wrap and tape it closed. The last step is making sure it goes down the right belt for distribution. It’s fast-paced and that makes the day fly by.
I can’t wait to get my first paycheck this afternoon. Luckily, I don’t have to wait a week and we even get paid on Thursday, which is awesome. I have to go shopping for t-shirts. It also wouldn’t hurt to get a new pair of boots for work. I’m sure my back would appreciate them. I’m not used to this repetitive labor just yet, but I’ll adjust soon enough.
