A New Life Series - Starter Kit

by Samantha Jacobey

  When dressed, she made her way back to her room and realized she did not have a specific place for her dirty clothes. She dropped them in front of the dresser on the floor, planning to ask about a laundry basket from Sharon when she saw her.

  Checking her boots for creepy crawlies, she turned them upside down and slapped them a few times. Finding none, she pushed her feet inside. Her hair would be wet for a while, so she bent over and shook her hands through it roughly, then tossed it back with a swinging motion. She realized afterwards it might hit the ceiling when she did. So strange having to worry about a roof over your head, she sighed.

  After she had finished primping, Tori trotted down the stairs. Reaching the bottom, she could smell bacon and eggs cooking, and hoped she would be able to have some, since dinner had been a little light. Inside the kitchen, Lindsey and Sharon were standing by the sink talking quietly until she entered the room. Giving her a warm greeting, both women were smiling.

  Tori had made friends with Debra, so these two didn’t scare her so badly. Heading over to the fridge to find a bottle of water, she gave them as warm a reply as she could muster.

  Taking a cursory inventory, the large unit appeared packed with items, most of which Tori would never eat. Finding the water bottles, she grabbed one and let the door shut. “So, how does the food work around here anyways? Do I need to buy things I will eat for myself or do we have a community say?”

  Sharon explained, “Everyone buys their own, and eats what they buy. However,” she warned her with a small nod, “Leaving food out can result in someone else eating it. And we do try to do something for special occasions, like new arrivals and departures. That’s why we made the spaghetti last night.”

  Tori nodded, figuring she wasn't getting any of the bacon and eggs. To her surprise, Lindsey spoke up and offered, “You want to share my breakfast? I mean, I’m sure you didn't bring any food in your suitcase.”

  Shaking her dark waves, she agreed she hadn't, not that she had any money for food either. She gladly accepted the offer, and the girls sat together for bacon and eggs with toast, which Tori passed on.

  While they ate, Lindsey talked non-stop. She told her new friend where she was from, where she went to school, and why she was there. When their plates were clean, she finally drew a deep breath, and then asked, “So, what about you?”

  Tori stared at her, wondering if the girl really wanted to know and if she really wanted to tell. After a full minute of consideration, she simply replied, “My life hasn't been nearly as exciting as yours, I guess.” Standing, she went over to the sink to wash her dishes and head out, as the clock read almost 10:00 am by then.

  Today would be her first day at work, and she felt a little uneasy at the prospect of meeting more people, especially her boss. His being a former Fed caused her to hold a certain amount of distrust of him, even before she met him.

  The agents who were on her committee had seemed honest and pleasant overall, but their holding her after she had fulfilled their agreement didn’t sit well with the girl. It’s Dr. Bennet who had been the real problem, she recalled, angry the Feds had sided with him.

  Pulling out her map to the music store, she excused herself and exited through the side door. The store stood only ten blocks from the house, so she would be able to walk it pretty easily.

  When she arrived at the address, Tori looked up to see Music Maniac in hot pink letters on the eave above the door. Inhaling deeply through her nostrils, she allowed the breath to escape through a relaxed jaw, then reached for the handle to go inside. The store dimly lit, she immediately removed her sunglasses to have a look around.

  Placing them into her inner jacket pocket, she panned the room starting at the left, where rows upon rows of CD racks stood. The wall that held the door solid, it contained shelves running floor to ceiling from the entrance all the way to the corner.

  The wall on the left of the room only had shelves up half way, and glass from the midline to the roof. There stood a second entrance made of two glass doors in the middle of it, which meant the building must sit on the corner. She hadn't noticed it before she came inside. The far wall had posters across it, with what appeared to be a small raised stage and three rows of benches in front, divided in half by a narrow walkway, like a cathedral.

  On the right side of the sales floor, she could see the instrument section. A full rack of guitars hung on the wall behind a long glass L-shaped counter that continued all the way back around to the door. A six-foot sectional break in the counter held swinging doors for access to the back stock, as well as the entrances to get behind the glass cases.

  A cash register sat mid counter, on the instrument side of the stock room, about halfway between the ends. She located the second one immediately to her right, on the side of the counter away from the exterior door. Tori made eye contact with a tall gentleman behind the closest one.

  The man had been observing her since she walked in, and she gave him a small nod. He nodded back, and then commented, “You gotta be Tori.” She could feel the hairs on her neck bristle at being recognized, but then of course he would be expecting her.

  The shop owner had long black and grey hair that hung in tight waves, and a matching full beard and mustache that were several inches long. He wore a blue Hawaiian type shirt with large white flowers on it, and she could not help noticing his large round stomach; if this is Terral Huffman, he has really let himself go.

  After the brief period of sizing each other up, Terral lifted his chin and spoke again, this time in Russian, “I hear you are quite a handful.”

  Tori nodded her agreement, and answered him in kind, “I can be.”

  Letting loose a loud belly laugh, he ambled to the opening in the glass to come around for a proper introduction. Offering his hand, he bellowed, “Good to meet you Tori. I’m Terral Huffman, but everyone calls me Terry.” The girl didn’t return the smile or take his hand; rather she turned and walked away to inspect the guitars on the wall.

  “You made these?” she indicated with a stiffened finger.

  Terry felt a little put out she had snubbed his hearty welcome, but he didn't know her yet, either. Sidling over next to her, Tori noticed his limp and stiff left leg. He caught her staring at it, but shrugged it off, and made no reply. Exhaling a deep sigh, she went back to the Russian, as she had become aware of several young men were watching them from the entrance to the warehouse area.

  “Look, Terry. I don't want to be here. And from what I understand, Godfry had to do some fancy finagling to get you to agree to it, so I’m guessing you feel the same way. So, let's cut to the chase. I will show up when I’m supposed to and do whatever you ask of me to the best of my ability. Don't ask me questions and don't ever touch me, and we’ll get along fine.”

  She looked him dead in the eye as she spoke, and he knew he could take her at her word. “All right,” he agreed, “then let's get to work.”

  Taking her on a tour, he showed her each of the sections out on the floor, Tori following behind him as he spoke. She removed her jacket and could hear laughter coming from the peanut gallery. She shot a nasty look in that direction, then continued to follow her boss, listening as he talked about the stage area, and moved towards the instrument counter.

  Stopping to turn around while he explained, he saw her long sleeved tee and could not stop himself from commenting, “You know, you’re gonna be hot working in that shirt.” His choice of words sent the onlookers into hysterics, and she could see his cheeks turn a slightly deeper shade, while he pretended his comment had been purely innocent.

  Tori's face like stone, she looked at the group menacingly. Holding up her index finger she inquired, “Could you excuse me for just a sec?”

  He nodded, somewhat leery of what would happen next, opting to wait and allow the interaction to unfold unimpeded.

  Making her way over to the boys as they tried to stifle their laughter, she dropped her jacket on the end of the glass counter and moved a few steps c
loser. Standing with her feet apart, her left foot cocked ninety degrees to the right one, she pulled her hands up to her hips and cooed in a southern drawl, “Well, whatta fine mess we have here. You boys have names?”

  One of them stood up straighter, grinning from ear to ear. “I'm Max,” he announced proudly, shaking his long blond bangs out of his eyes. “This,” he pointed, “Is Keith, and that’s Derrick,” he indicated the one leaning back in a chair against the corner of the doorframe.

  Derrick busted out laughing, “What you even talkin’ to her for, fool? Can't you tell she ain't from aroun’ here?” he mocked her.

  Tossing her ebony locks, the girl cracked a wide grin, and extended her hand, “Hiya Max; I'm Tori.” His jaw dropped slightly in surprise, but he shook her extended appendage, and she held the accent beautifully. “Your frien’s right; I'm ain’t from aroun’ here. Maybe you could take me t’ dinner an’ show me aroun’ a bit?” She stepped closer to him and ran the back of her fingers down the front of his shirt.

  His friends fell silent as he stammered for a moment, and then nodded his head heavily to agree.

  Tori smiled again, “Great. I’ll see ya after work then.” Patting his chest with the palm of her hand, she turned on her heel and picked up her jacket. She rejoined Terry with a sly smile, swaying her hips as she moved.

  “You know he’s just a kid,” Terry stated quietly when she was back in ear shot.

  Tori gave him a half grin, “I'm only fifteen, myself.”

  Terry barked a sharp laugh while shaking his head. “I don't know who’s the bigger fool; the guy who came up with that bullshit, or the ones who bought it.” Not wanting to dig any deeper into what his old friend might be up to, he let the subject go and continued the tour while Tori listened attentively.

  The store closes at 8:00 pm each night, so they began straightening up about 7:30. Max made his way closer to Tori as they worked the racks and cleaned all of the glass. “Are you really going to go have dinner with me after work?” he asked in a timid voice.

  Giving him a sideways look, Tori’s lips curled into a small smile, “Only if you want to.”

  His eyes bright, he grinned and increased his arm speed in an effort to finish early and be off on their date. Noticing Terry watching her, she made her way over to him, trying to look natural.

  “Relax,” she told him in a patronizing voice, “I’m not going to hurt him, I swear.” She held up her right hand as a solemn oath.

  Terry didn’t look convinced, but said nothing more about it. When the clock above the swinging doors read five to close, Terry began setting up the registers, and then went to lock the doors. When he came back, he motioned Tori over, “I want to show you how to shut down the drawers.”

  She commented mockingly, “I’m somewhat surprised you would trust me with your money so soon.”

  “Yeah, well, from what I hear, you’re a murderer, not a thief,” he replied with a smug grin.

  His words stung her, and he could see her deflate as she murmured, “Well, that's true.”

  She watched obediently as he showed her what to do on the first machine, and then asked her to repeat the process for him on the second. She didn't miss a step, and he smiled at her genuinely. She seemed dispirited after his comment, and he regretted having made it. “Come in at eight in the morning, I’ll show you how to open,” he said as he headed to the office in the back.

  Max walked up to her, smiling warmly, but her mood had been lost, and she could not muster one for him in return. Sensing her unhappiness, he reached out and entwined his fingers with hers, soothing, “It's your first day. Don't sweat it.” Tori appreciated the kind words, and gave his digits a small squeeze as they strolled out the door.

  Old Habits

  The pair walked along the sidewalk, swinging their still connected hands to some slow, unheard melody. Reaching the small diner that stood four blocks down from the double doors of the shop, Max held the entrance for her as she made her way inside.

  Mmm, a gentleman, she thought to herself, realizing she had not seen many of those in her lifetime. Sliding into a round booth in the corner, Tori appreciated being able to see the expanse of the room, as she still harbored a deep distrust of people. Max scooted around next to her comfortably, giving her a sheepish smile of excitement. He appeared clearly pleased she seemed interested in him.

  The waitress made her way over to their table, and Max smiled at Tori as he asked what she wanted. Shrugging, she replied, “Something with meat and vegetables.” The waitress nodded, putting pot roast on the ticket, while Max ordered a cheeseburger and French fries. Tori wrinkled her nose at his choice, which made him laugh and finally brought a small smile to her lips.

  “So, what's your story?” he asked, folding his arms on the table to lean on when they were alone.

  Tori shook her head, too tired of her own misery to even begin to explain. “I got nothing,” she stated after a long pause, her expression a blank stare, “I’d rather hear about you.”

  At her request, Max began to talk about his life, his dreams, and whatever popped into his head. Eventually their meal arrived, and they ate with little conversation, as she felt terribly grateful for the first good meal she had had since her arrival.

  When he finished, the boy began to talk about himself again, and Tori sat half listening while she watched him. She noticed that he had bright green eyes, when she could see them through his shaggy bangs. She decided she liked the way the hairs brushed his pointy nose and had him swooshing them out of the way with his fingers on occasion. She especially liked his smooth lips, and noticed the way one side curved more than the other when he smiled, causing a deep dimple in his left cheek.

  The sun had set outside, and she could feel the night closing in around them. While she considered these things, she unexpectedly leaned forward and kissed him, her left hand moving up to catch his neck and hold him in place while she did so.

  Immediately, she felt her heart begin to pound with excitement, and an aching need sprang up inside her. Max, being young and eager, kissed her back, his hands instantly roaming beneath her jacket, searching for her soft round curves.

  His left hand slid up to caress her right breast, his thumb moving back and forth across the point. Forgetting they were still sitting in a public place, the two allowed their hands to wander freely, and Tori heard herself moan with anticipation.

  Moments later, she broke off the kiss, Terry’s voice jumping to the front of her mind, screaming loudly. Grabbing his probing fingers with her right hand, she became keenly aware of the moistness forming in her warm folds of flesh and the ache between her thighs. Licking her lips anxiously, she slid back on the seat to put some inches between them, panting as she tried desperately to put on the breaks.

  “What's the matter?” his voice cracked, obviously upset.

  Glancing back at him as she slithered on around to the left and stood up, she stammered, “It's not your fault. It's mine. I should never have come here. I’m sorry.” She fled before he could pursue her, turning at the corner and heading for home. Feeling like shit every step of the way, her thoughts churned; he's just a kid—what the hell were you thinking?

  She kept walking as fast as she could without actually breaking out into a run. When she reached the music store, she hung a left and kept moving. Five blocks to go, you can get there; Tori gave herself a pep talk at a red light while she waited to cross.

  Swinging her gaze absently down the road, she saw a liquor store on the next corner, and her pounding heart stopped dead for an instant. Breathing heavily, the light changed to green for her, but she didn't even notice, her mind racing in another direction.

  Whisked into the past, Tori felt herself sitting in a chair, facing a table in the center of the bush camp, in Brazil. That had been her home, where she had grown up. A place she had shared with Eli and the committee because she had to, but she had no intention of anyone else ever finding out about it, or any of the other ugly things in h
er past.

  She wet her lips as she stared down the busy street. I don't even have any money; she realized, then countered the thought with a frown, you don't need that shit, get your ass home at a reasonable hour! Swinging her focus back to the light, it had cycled to red again. Damn it. The cool night breeze made the wetness inside her jeans uncomfortable as she stood waiting, tortured by her actions and her desire for what lay next to her, a few doors down.

  Tori stood facing the way she wanted to walk, but in the fresh darkness, the lights of the store to her right burned in her mind. She could feel herself in that chair, with David Long sitting beside her and coaching her on how to down the shots.

  She licked her lips again nervously and looking down at her hands noticed they had begun to tremble. Clenching them into fists repeatedly, she crossed on the green light and walked as quickly as she could towards the tall brown haven. I don't need that shit; she repeated to herself as she marched. I only drank to do what I had to do. It's just an old habit; it’ll pass.

  Hitting the back door and practically bolting inside, she froze in her tracks as she entered the kitchen. The clock above the doorway into the hall read 10:30; I'm not late, thank God!

  Sharon stood at the coffee pot, returning the carafe to its hotplate. “Hi,” she said in an upbeat tone. “We were afraid you might have gotten lost,” dropping a brief pause; “We thought your shift ended at eight. Would you like some coffee?”

  “It did,” Tori stammered, trying to keep her cool. “I had dinner with one of the guys from the shop.” See…that wasn't so bad. She ran her fingers through her hair while considering a cup of java. She didn’t drink coffee, or anything other than water or liquor for that matter, very often.