Alex

by Monica Robinson

  They're worse than children. She erased the ham and pineapple and wrote down pepperoni.

  She glanced at Matt.

  "Anchovies. I haven't had those in ages."

  "No!” The other four shouted. Daniel continued, “Who puts fish on their pizza?"

  Matt shot him a look of irritation. “I do. They're good. A little salty, but good."

  Alex gave Jason a helpless look, but he merely shrugged with a broad grin.

  "All right, that's it.” She ripped off the sheet and crumpled it. “This is how it's going to work. If you all can't agree on what to order, I'll choose and you'll just have to suffer with what I pick."

  Charlie frowned. “I really am allergic to mushrooms."

  She gestured to him with the eraser end of the pencil. “Fine. I already crippled Brett, so I don't want to be accused of poisoning you as well.” She turned to her uncle. “Where can I find a phonebook and a phone?"

  Jason strode over to an antique roll top desk and pushed up the cover. He retrieved the phonebook and gestured to the kitchen.

  "The phone is on the wall next to the baker's rack.” As she entered the spacious kitchen, she heard him say, “Get used to it, boys. Women are notorious for their short tempers."

  That wasn't necessarily true. She liked to think it took quite a bit for her to lose her temper. She plunked onto one of the wooden chairs and dropped the book onto the table before opening it to the yellow pages. Men. She flipped through the pages until she found the listing she was looking for. If this doesn't appease them, nothing will. It would undoubtedly cost a small fortune to place her order, but that was all right. At least she'd remembered to bring her credit card.

  "I hope Daddy didn't cut me off from that too.” She rose and grabbed the receiver off the cradle.

  Two days before she left for San Eduardo, her father had stated he was putting a hold on her bank account and cell phone until she returned to Bangor. The notion had incensed her, but she hadn't argued too loudly. The alternative was to have her five-million-dollar trust fund stripped from her and divided between her two sisters. Her twin Morgan would be elated if that occurred. Her sister was a demanding, money hungry snob. She expected the very best and pouted if she didn't get it.

  And these guys think I'm spoiled. She punched the number into the phone. They would chase Morgan off in a heartbeat.

  "Pecos Pizza, how can I help you?"

  Alex peered into the living room. The men were sprawled throughout the room, talking amongst themselves and relaxing.

  "Yes, I was wondering if you deliver?” she asked, wrapping the phone cord around her finger.

  "Yes, ma'am. Where is this going?"

  "The Bar K ranch."

  "I'm sorry, but we don't deliver that far. Would you like to place a take-out order?” the clerk replied.

  Alex pursed her lips to the side. She couldn't drive and she didn't want to make the men go anywhere if she could help it. A sly smile edged her lips as she plopped into the chair.

  "Would you deliver to the Bar K if the driver was paid fifty dollars?” Her voice took on an overly sweet edge, “I have a large order to place and I assure you it will be well worth the effort of whoever comes out here."

  "Fifty dollars?"

  Alex confirmed this was correct.

  "What would you like on the first pizza?"

  * * * *

  "I don't think I've eaten this much in three years,” Charlie declared two hours later while setting his paper plate inside the empty pizza box next to him. “Thank you, Alex."

  The others nodded their agreement.

  Alex picked at a black olive on her slice of pizza and grinned. She popped the olive into her mouth and shrugged before setting her plate on the wooden coffee table.

  In the end, she'd wound up ordering six large pizzas from the pizzeria and as promised, paid the driver a fifty dollar tip for driving the extra two miles. As it turned out, the driver had been the woman she'd spoken to on the phone.

  "No problem.” She eyed her uncle. “What do we do now?"

  Jason swallowed a mouthful of food and dusted off his hands after setting his plate down. “Well, since we've successfully stuffed ourselves, I think now is as good a time as any to start Round Robin.” He peered at the grumbling men. “Charlie, since you've been here the longest, why don't you start?"

  "How did I know you were going to say that?” Charlie slouched in his seat and crossed his ankle over the opposite knee. “I came to the Bar K ten years ago to work off a six-year sentence for selling drugs. It was my second offense and if I hadn't come here, I would have gone to juvenile hall until I turned twenty-one."

  He continued when she was silent, “Once my time was up, I decided to stay on as an employee of the state. I like working on the ranch and the people of San Eduardo don't know anything about me or my past, so I have a completely fresh start."

  She never would have guessed this about him. For all outward appearances, Charlie looked as though he had been born and raised in the country. His dark tan and muscular frame certainly aided in this belief anyway. However, as she recalled her uncle's warning of not passing judgment, she nodded politely.

  "I guess that makes me next,” Brett stated.

  Jason propped his chin between his thumb and index fingers and nodded.

  Brett set his jaw and let his eyes land on Alex. “I'm serving a seven-year sentence for drug possession and armed robbery. I was caught robbing a mini-mart in Dallas and when the cops arrested me, they found two grams of heroin on my person,” he continued. “I suppose I could have received a harsher sentence, but Jason heard of me and requested that the state turn me over to him to rehabilitate and work off my debt to society."

  Alex was just as astonished by Brett's story as she had been over Charlie's. Her uncle hadn't been kidding when he said these men had pasts they wanted to forget. As she thought of her crime, she felt foolish. All she'd received was a sentence for community service and she'd already served that.

  Matt rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor. “I'm going to be here for the next twenty years,” he started. “I was part of a gang in LA and one night, someone from a rival gang jumped me. My goal hadn't been to hurt anyone. I just wanted him off me, but when I couldn't, I drew a knife. Sometime during the scuffle, I stabbed him."

  When Alex sat in silence, Matt said, “My lawyer tried to get the DA to agree to involuntary manslaughter charges, but he wasn't going for it. Since my father is Christopher Duncan, the DA wanted to make an example out of me. So, I was tried and convicted for second degree murder."

  So, that's where she'd heard the name Duncan before. Matt's father was a Hollywood movie director. Convicted for murder and for what? Trying to defend himself? It didn't seem right.

  "May I ask you a question?"

  Matt nodded.

  "Why would the DA charge you with murder when you were defending yourself?"

  A faint smile touched Matt's lips and he once more gazed at the floor. “I was armed and the other guy wasn't. In their eyes, the intent was there even if it wasn't deliberate,” he said with a shrug. “The only thing my father did for me before cutting me out of his life entirely was to call his old college buddy, Jason. Between my lawyer, the judge and the DA, I was released into Jason's care for the duration of my sentence. The stipulation is if I so much as get into one fight while I'm here, I go back to LA and finish out my sentence in San Quinton."

  How terrible. She couldn't imagine having such a stipulation put on her. What if someone else were to start the fight? Matt wouldn't be able to defend himself. It was a horrible blow to the ego. On top of that, his father had disowned him.

  The notion of her own father doing such a thing caused the pizza in her stomach to churn. She didn't comment on this fact. Instead, she waited for the next person to speak. Steven lifted a playful eyebrow and jerked a thumb in Matt's direction.

  "I hate it when he goes before me. He makes me look like a Boy Scout,” he
said and flinched at the jab Matt made at him. “Anyway, I've been here two years and I have one to go. They arrested me for possession of cocaine. Since it was my third offense, I had a choice. Go to prison in Houston, or come here to clean myself up and find something constructive to do with my life. Since I'm here, you can see which sounded better."

  Alex tried not to laugh, but the Cheshire cat grin on his face was too much to resist. At least he has a sense of humor about it. Not only was he trying to better himself, he could actually joke about it.

  All eyes turned to Daniel and the smiles disappeared. She'd known since that morning she didn't want to know what he'd done and it was apparent he didn't want to talk about it either.

  Matt leaned over and dropped his hand on the young man's shoulder. “You gotta do it, buddy. You'll never learn to forgive yourself if you don't."

  Alex's blood ran cold. For some reason, she knew someone had been hurt. The how and why were still unclear, but she would soon find out.

  He peered at Matt. “I guess you would know,” he murmured. “I've been here just over a year and like Matt, I'm serving a twenty-year sentence. I was at a party with a bunch of friends and we all got smashed."

  Don't say it. Alex closed her eyes. Please don't say what I think you're going to say.

  She liked Daniel. He seemed like an even-tempered young man despite his enormous frame. It was no wonder the other men were so distressed when his turn came. They didn't want to see him upset.

  "At around midnight, we decided to call it a night and since I was the least intoxicated of the group, it was up to me to drive us all home,” Daniel went on. “I don't remember hitting the tree. I don't even remember getting out of the car. All I remember is the police officer throwing me to the ground and telling me that I'd just killed four of my friends."

  She felt sick. Daniel had done the exact same thing she had and this was the result? He'd tried to do the responsible thing and instead he'd caused an accident. Her father's comment from the courtroom came back to her in a flourish. What if someone had been coming at that intersection? She hadn't taken the scenario seriously until this very moment and her guilt escalated.

  She felt like scum. Lower than scum, actually. Kevin had plea-bargained for a lesser charge. No one had done that for Daniel and now he would spend the majority of his adult life on the ranch, trying to get over the guilt he harbored.

  "Your turn,” Jason's voice pierced through her thoughts like a knife.

  She glanced up to find everyone looking at her expectantly. What could she say to all of this? Her own story seemed miniscule by comparison and they would only see her as a silly spoiled rich girl. Wasn't she though? A part of her wanted to deny the thought, but she couldn't.

  "My story is different than the rest of yours,” she began. “I was arrested just under a year ago for OUI and—"

  "What's OUI?” Charlie interrupted.

  "Operating while under the influence,” Jason supplied and nodded for her to continue. “Go on."

  Alex swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed and stared at her hands clasped in her lap. “It was my third offense in eighteen months and like Daniel, I was the least intoxicated of me and my fiancé. I wanted to stay the night where we were, but he insisted that we leave, so I drove. I don't think I would have been caught had I not run the stop sign."

  She saw Daniel stiffen and she rushed on, “No one was at the intersection, thank God, but that really isn't the point. I was sentenced to rehab and given five hundred hours of community service, which I've served."

  Brett fixed her with a perplexed expression. “If you already served your sentence, then why are you here?"

  She wondered that herself. If her father's goal had been to teach her responsibility, he could have forced her to work in one of his plants.

  "My father thinks I need to learn responsibility and he just may be right. I can only assume he figured Uncle Jason's ranch would be the best way to teach me,” she explained. “My original sentence was to spend six months in jail, so he's having me serve that sentence along with what the judge ordered."

  Steven let out a low whistle. “Harsh."

  Until she'd heard the workers’ stories, she'd thought the same thing. Now she wasn't so sure. By comparison, she'd gotten off easy.

  "Not really. I think I probably deserved worse than what I got.” She paused to reconsider. “No, I did deserve worse. All I can do now is spend the next six months making sure I don't burn the house down or injure anyone else."

  This received several laughs and to her surprise, an actual smile from Brett.

  Jason chuckled and ran his palms over his knees before rising and striding to the center of the room. “Which brings us to my side of things."

  Alex had been waiting for this moment. Her uncle's cryptic comment of not being innocent had gnawed at her all day.

  "This story never ceases to amaze me,” Charlie said with a shake of his head. Jason lifted an eyebrow. “Sorry, go ahead."

  "Thank you, Charlie.” He paced the section of the room between the coffee table and kitchen entryway. “Like the rest of you, I was arrested when I was young. I was in college at the time and big into sports. I wanted to boost my performance on the field and I figured the best way for me to do that was to bulk up. I turned to steroids for the boost."

  Alex situated herself in her seat and crossed her legs. So far, she hadn't heard anything too astonishing. Granted, she wouldn't have guessed her uncle was guilty of drug use, but it wasn't all that uncommon for athletes to use the illegal substance.

  "I was pretty close to my supplier. In fact I'm related to him,” he continued. “That isn't important right now, but it plays a roll later. Regardless, one of the side effects to taking steroids is rage. It's an overwhelming anger you can't rid yourself of by simply removing yourself from the situation. In fact, you can't detach yourself at all. I was no different.

  "One night I borrowed my brother's car and while returning to campus, I was stopped for speeding. When I went to retrieve the registration from the glove box, at least a dozen packets of pink pills spilt out. Of course, the officer saw this and assumed the drugs were mine. After posting bail, I went looking for my brother. Needless to say, when I found him, I was arrested again for literally trying to beat him to death with my bare hands."

  Alex's jaw dropped. Now this was amazing. Jason was her only uncle, so that left her father as his supplier. Her fingertips instinctively sought out her lips. Oh dear God.

  A soft, remorseful smile found Jason's mouth at her reaction. “My brother never pressed charges for the assault, but he did deny the steroids were his. Considering what had occurred, and the fact I tested positive for usage, the cops assumed the drugs were mine. I pled innocent to the charges, but was found guilty anyway and sentenced to three years in prison.

  "After my release, I decided the best thing for me to do was move. So, I packed up and moved to Texas. I worked on several ranches throughout the state until I'd saved up enough to buy the Bar K.

  "Shortly after that, I came to the conclusion I wanted to help others like me, people who have a history of substance abuse or violence. I petitioned the state to allow me access to low-risk prisoners who were in danger of becoming habitual offenders. The state granted my request after two long years. Periodically, someone from the state comes to check on my workers and make sure they're being rehabilitated in a satisfactory manner."

  Alex was speechless. She couldn't fathom how her father could have allowed his own brother to go to prison for a crime he had committed. It was a betrayal of the worst kind.

  "Not only are we an excellent tax write-off, but we're great cheap labor as well,” Steven commented with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

  Jason rolled his eyes. “I wouldn't necessarily say you boys are cheap labor. One look at my bank account is proof of that. Men in your position receive a few cents an hour. You boys earn just under minimum wage.” He peered at Charlie with a fond smile. “With a few e
xceptions."

  Alex cleared her throat. “Have you ever had workers who went back to their old ways?"

  Jason hesitated. “A few. Out of the hundreds of young men who have come through here, only four have returned to their former habits. Statistically, that gives my ranch a ninety-nine percent succession rate, but it still bothers me to know that I failed those four individuals."

  This was understandable. Anybody could see her uncle genuinely cared for the wellbeing of his workers and with the relaxed relationship the men had with him, it was obvious they thought highly of him as well.

  Brett grunted under his breath. “Some people simply can't be helped. You can try your best, but unless they want to change, nothing can be done,” he said with a crooked smile. “Isn't that what you always tell us?"

  Jason blushed. “Touché,” he murmured and glanced at the grandfather clock near the door. “Okay, fellas. Tomorrow's a big day for Steven and Brett, so I think we should all get some sleep."

  Big day? She peered at the other men and noted that the joking gleam had left Steven's eyes as he rose and reached for the pizza box on the floor.

  "I don't see why, they're just going to reject my application ... again,” he grumbled under his breath. He walked into the kitchen to dispose of the carton and the others glanced at each other with solemn expressions.

  Daniel let his gaze land on Alex and he shrugged. “The parole board is coming tomorrow. Steven was up for it six months ago, but they denied his request,” he explained.

  Alex's lips parted to form an “O” and nodded. Her attention drifted to the empty doorway and then to Brett.

  Brett scoffed. “I've been turned down three times, so I'm not expecting this to be any different. I only have seven months to go, so even if they turn me down, I'll be free then."

  Once again, she nodded. “May I ask why they turned you down?"

  A fleeting look of irritation crossed his eyes. “Why do people do anything they do? Maybe they thought I wasn't ready. I don't know, but if they're afraid I'm going to go back to my old ways, they're sorely mistaken.” He glanced at the cushioned knee brace on his knee. “This is proof of it."