by Sells, W. G.
Copyright (c) 2012-2014 JukePop, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author or JukePop, Inc., except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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Tree
This is the story of what happened when I took a chance on a long-shot. If anyone else had told me they did what I did, I would have told them that they were crazy, insane, gullible, or even worse, just plain stupid. But I did it and it worked. I needed it to work. I had been wronged and there was no way to follow the rules and get back what had been taken away.
It took a while to put all the pieces together, but to the best of my knowledge, here's what happened to me. I worked for Senator John Hughes. He was after me from the first time he saw me, even inviting me to join him for lunch, "just to get to know me." He had fresh flowers placed in my office every Monday and he offered me gifts of jewelry. I threw the flowers out and refused the gifts. I told him I was not interested in being wooed by a married man and that he needed to stop.
The next day he apologized and asked me to join him for coffee, and to talk strategy for an upcoming project. I agreed even though I should have known better. I met him at three in the afternoon. The next thing I know, I'm in front of my apartment at two in the morning and I'm in a daze. My underwear is gone, I feel like I've been violated, and I can't remember a thing.
The next morning I'm still in a fog. I go to work and find out I've been fired. "Inappropriate behavior," they say. "Just accept it or things will get very bad for you," they say. My stuff is already packed and is handed to me by security. I'm devastated. I cry all the way home and then I get mad.
I start making phone calls to other staffers but no one will talk to me. I call the police and they ask me about evidence. I call a lawyer and he says he'll try and see me in a couple of weeks. And then it happened. I start getting phone calls.
The bank says I'm overdrawn even though I had plenty of money. My credit cards are cancelled, and my car is towed. My landlord says I have twenty-four hours to move out, because he doesn't run a “brothel.” The police come to my apartment and arrest me for cocaine even though I've never touched drugs. They release me three days later. When I get to my apartment, all my things are on the curb - well, some of my things. The neighbors have picked me clean. The landlord sees me and threatens to call the police if I don't stop "loitering" around his building. I walk two blocks and just want to die. And that's when I saw the ad. It read:
FINALLY….
A TEMPORARY STAFFING AGENCY ANYONE CAN AFFORD!!!
You pay no more than $1.85 a day! What? Is that what it says? It costs a dollar and eighty-five cents a day for temporary staffing?
Do you need help around the home or for your small business? Did you think that temporary agencies only provided staffing for large corporations? We have qualified individuals to fill any need.
We have: Nurses * Gardeners * Tax Specialists * Cooks * Doctors * Lawyers * Dentists * Organizers * Beauticians * Tutors * Financial Advisors * Laborers * Clerks * and more…
We are Cons-on-Call (CoC)
The first-ever convict operated staffing agency!
How can we be so affordable? The maximum wage a CoC can earn is $1.85 a day. Every state varies, but $1.85 is the maximum! In some states, like Mississippi, you only pay $1.04!
How can we be trusted? How can you truly trust any employee? Studies show that most crimes in the home are committed by family members or “close” friends. CoC employees are carefully pre-screened by psychiatric specialists and include only short-time “mates;” trustees that have more to lose if they don’t perform to your standards.
Sure, they could pick up trash along the highways, make license plates, or work in one of our fine laundry facilities, but they truly want to mainstream back into society. What better way than to bring their expertise into your home?
The promise of freedom to them is our pledge to you.
What about those special needs? Perhaps you have a particularly delicate matter for which you need assistance? Fret no more. Does someone owe you money? Is some jerk harassing your daughter? Perhaps an annoying neighbor is driving you crazy? Have you called the police and filed the complaint and still you have no relief? Why not let the CoC make an impact with these problem people by creatively discussing alternative measures with our conflict resolution team? We will get the results where others fail. We promise!
Maybe you just want to learn a new skill like pawning gold, handgun safety or evasive-driver maneuvering? The CoC has experts in every field. And who doesn’t need help managing money? Our staff can provide you with numerous ways to make money work for you and not the IRS.
And remember, you get our best for no more than $1.85 a day! Read what our clients say about our staff…
“We didn’t know what to do so we called the CoC. Our nanny was about to be deported and the CoC rep provided us with a document expert who crafted the perfect forms we needed to keep her here with our family.” - - B. White, IL.
“My doctor wouldn’t renew my prescriptions and the pharmacy said my checks were no longer accepted. I called CoC and within thirty minutes they hooked me up with a line to a provider I know I could never find on my own. Thank God for Cons-on-Call! - - I. Jones, WA.
“We worried about home security so we called the CoC. They sent someone who knew alarm systems intimately and was also a crack safe installer. He showed us the perfect places to hide our valuables.” - - M.T., TX.
Our staff is dedicated to providing the types of services that meet our requirements. We are available 24-hours a Day, 7 Days a week. AND we are on-call for every major holiday! Where can you get service like this for no more than $1.85 a day???
So, give us a call and let us solve your problem.
Remember, we are only a Cell Call Away 1-800-ConCall
Since my cell service had been cut off, I took the last bit of change in my pocket and called from a pay phone. The local rep asked me what I needed help with and I told him I didn't know where to start. He said, "Hey lady, at $1.67 a day you can afford to have as many of our staff as you need. I asked him, what if I can't pay you up front? He said, "Well, that's what we have government grants for. The first meeting is on the house."
That night I slept in the bus terminal. The next morning I waited in the coffee shop as we agreed. A short bald man with a broad smile entered wearing a CoC tee shirt. I started to wave him over, but he was already heading my way. He looked his part and I must have looked mine.
"Good morning, Julie,” he said. “I’m Tree, and I promise, it’s all going to be better soon.” I immediately felt a sense of relief and started weeping. He handed me a napkin, took out a notepad from his briefcase and clicked his pen.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s been very…” I couldn’t help but sob. He waited till I regained my composure.
“It’s okay,” he said.
I looked him over and then wondered about his name.
“Why, um, do you mind if I ask, why is your name Tree? You’re not very tall or stout or…leafy.”
He laughed. “Tree is short for Triage. I’m here for the diagnosis.”
After I had told him my story, he clicked his pen, placed his notepad back into his briefcase and took a napkin for himself.
“Allergies,” he said, as he wiped his eyes and nose, but his pensive smile told me otherwise. “Now, do what I tell you, exactly as I tell you, and all of your troubles will be behind you.”
I waited in the thrift store across from the diner just as Tree had instructed. I was to meet with Scooter at two-o’clock and he would escort me to my next destination. Two-o'clock came and went. So much for these guys being punctual, I thought.
I had been looking through the same clothes bin, over and over, because of it's proximity to the window. The clerk of the store, some twenty-year-old weasel of a guy with bad acne, kept eyeing me from behind the counter against the far wall with a suspicion that would have been comical if I hadn't already been thoroughly bored with pretending to shop.
An hour of exclaiming to myself, "Oh, yes, a brown shawl is just what I need to cover myself on the park bench," and "The color of this purse will really bring out the pigeon shit on my shoes," was enough to drive me crazy. But I wasn't crazy and the laughter inside brought a little bit of healing to my soul.
The clerk started for me but thankfully the phone rang and he went to answer. I stared out the window trying to guess what Scooter looked like.
"Hey!" the clerk said, and I turned. He held the receiver toward me. "Phone call."
The voice on the other end was soothing and calm - a deep baritone that resounded with both beauty and command. I listened carefully to his instructions.
"Thank you," I said to the clerk, and held the receiver for him to take. As he reached out his hand I grabbed his wrist with my left hand and began to beat him in the head with the receiver. When he fell to the floor I took the lamp and smashed it over his head. He lay in a heap just as the voice told me he would. He also said my heart would race and to take some deep breaths as I headed for the back door.
"You're being followed," he had said. Do what I tell you and we'll get you out of there safely."
I stuck my head out the back door and looked down the alley to my right. Nothing. I glanced to my left and saw an old woman in a wheelchair about fifteen feet away and heading my direction. I started down the short stairway and turned right.
"Where are you going?" a man's voice called. It had a familiar quality. I turned and looked at the woman in the wheelchair. Sure enough, as she stood up, the wig and the prop dress came off, and she became a he. He smiled. "Put these on and sit down! I'm taking you for a roll before someone says 'Hey!'"
"You're funny," I said as I dressed the part of the old woman.
"You're cute," he replied, and shoved me into the chair.
"You've been locked up too long," I said pointedly.
"I've been out for three years, thank you!" he retorted, and headed to the right side of the alleyway. “I’m Scooter, by the way.”
“I figured,” I said, and then noticed I was shaking. Scooter must have heard it in my voice or felt the vibration in the chair.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just, um, nerves I guess. Why did I have to hit that guy back there? Was he with them?”
“No, but it felt good didn’t it?”
I hadn’t thought about it, but now that I replayed it in my head, I could sense the relief it brought.
“You have a lot of anger and frustration to vent. We like people to get that out of the way by some other means so they can think clearly about how they want revenge on the real target. You can go shoot this guy and get it over with or you can gradually, methodically, totally and absolutely destroy him. Which is best for you?”
He said the last sentence in such a matter-of-fact way that I had to laugh.
“You are funny, Scooter.”
Scooter dumped the wheelchair in an alley, and after checking around the corner, walked me to the front of a high-rise that was only blocks from Senator Hughes’ office. He told me to go to the 19th floor to meet with Uncle Peepers.
“Peepers?” I said. I looked up at the building and wondered what kind of fella this Uncle Peepers might be. I turned to thank Scooter for the escort, but he was already gone. The way “Scooter” scooted it made me wonder if “Peepers” had eyes the size of peaches.
Peepers
"Please don't," Peepers said, as I extended my hand to shake his. He recoiled at my gesture like Gandhi from a cheeseburger, his hand quickly thrust behind his back.
"Twenty-one years in the slammer and you can either eat a stranger’s booger off the floor or you don't want to be touched by your own grandmother for fear of catching something," he said. "Guess which one I am?"
I giggled nervously and put my hand down. "I'm not much for touching right now either."
"That's what I hear. Tree filled me in."
He paused for the longest time as he looked me in the eyes. Then he smiled. "So, have a seat and let's get started."
Peepers looked normal enough. He was kind of a milk-toast, non-descript, accountant-looking middle-aged guy with glasses. His eyes seemed of normal size and ability. His office had a reception area, a secretary and enough people running around to fill an amphitheater. The sign on the main door said,
Suite 1968
TRAVERSE, INC.
Peeper’s door said, "Accounts Manager." I sat down and scanned his walls as he poured water. There were some fifty framed pictures of Peepers with smiling people I didn't recognize. Not one of them stood out. I also noticed he wasn't touching anyone and no one was touching him. Good, I thought. It isn't just me.
"Cheers!" he said, as he set my glass on the table. I picked it up and toasted. "Here's to a new beginning."
As he said it, I was startled as the ceiling lights dimmed by themselves and a screen dropped from the wall behind him and filled with light from a projection that emanated from his desk. The voice-over began...
"From its humble origins in 1968, Traverse Incorporated has sought to right the wrongs, protect the innocent and stick it to the man at every turn…."
The video showed scenes from JFK, MLK, and RFK's assassinations, the riots in Watts and Kent State, to Nixon's farewell on the White House lawn.
"We are as our name signifies – Traverse - a formal denial of some matter of fact alleged by the other side; to go counter to; to obstruct; to thwart; to contradict or deny."
The video changed to scenes of prison inmates being released into the arms of loved ones and friends.
"Along with our subsidiary, The CoC, we endeavor to..."
The lights came back on and the video stopped. Peepers stared at me.
"Well?" he asked, like a five-year-old who had just colored a picture for his Kindergarten teacher.
"I liked it," I said quickly and threw in, "very professional."
"We try." At that, a map came on the screen and the lights dimmed again.
"So, here we are," Peepers pointed with a pointer at the center of the city. "And two blocks away is Senator Hughes' office. How handy!"
"Yes, it is," I said, beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland.
The video began again but it wasn't the same promotional smarm. It was the inside of Hughes’ office. I must have gasped loud enough for Peepers to hear me. He turned and smiled.
"Live feed."
He turned a knob and I heard the chatter of the office workers.
"Audio, too!" Peepers added. “We already have people on the inside...and out. We're in his house; his summer house in Rehobeth; his chalet in Aspen, and in his mistresses penthouse, ah coincidentally, two blocks north of here."
"How handy!" I couldn't resist. “You guys really work fast.”
“Not nearly,” he said, and picked up a file from the edge of his desk. There were many papers in the file, but he carefully pulled out two pictures.
“Do you see any pattern here?”
I looked at the photographs. They were both pictures of fair-complexioned, attractive, white women in their late twenties with strawberry-blond hair. And so was I.
“Don’t tell me…,” I started, but Peepers was already shaking his head up and down.
“Yep, you are not the first. We were too late for them. We weren’t as streamlined or as efficient as we are today. One got cold feet and moved back home to her mo
ther and father. The other…well, she disappeared.”
The way he said “disappeared” made me feel very uneasy. He pulled out a third picture. This woman was an overweight brunette in her forties. I shook my head to show that I didn’t recognize her.
“You wouldn’t know her,” Peepers said. “She worked at the office and was a friend of the first girl. She tried to help the girl and disappeared herself. It was probably the reason the girl got cold feet. No, you’re not the first, but we vowed if anyone else came forward we would be ready to pounce. And Julie, we are ready. Are you?”
I nodded my head.
“Great! Let me introduce you to your team,” he said, and then pressed a button on the side of his desk. A door opened next to the screen and the eight members of the team came shuffling into Peepers’ office.
