Ex Convict

by Ashley Beale

  One of my promises to myself and to Jenny is to never be selfish. The most selfish thing in life is love, therefore I'll never fall in love. Ever. Which means I should probably stay away from guys all together. It shouldn't be hard, as I've been pleasuring myself for the last six years, I can continue doing just that.

  After getting some food off the dollar menu, I finally make it to the women's home. I'm a sweaty mess and can even smell myself. Unsure if to knock on the door or not, I slowly grip the door knob and let out a small breath. My hand is shaky but then I remind myself of where I've been the last six years and I know this place has to be better than there.

  I turn the knob and peek in. The home looks just as that... a home. I open the door wider and stand in the frame, looking around. The foyer is large with an oversized round table in the center. On that is a chart of some sort and some pens in a cup close by. To the left of the room is a wooden stair case that leads to the second level. To the right of the room is two entrances, one at the front of the room, one at the back.

  Closing the door behind me, I walk towards the closest entrance and peek in. It looks to be an office or something, but no one is occupying the room. I turn around and startle when an older man is standing in place. "Can I help you?" he barks out.

  He has to be in his forties, you can tell by the texture of his skin and the wrinkles around his eyes. The light brown hair on top of his head is thinning and I can spot strands of silver throughout it. He isn't that tall of a man, but he is certainly larger. The kind of guy I pictured nested in front of a TV with a six pack by his side while he munches through a bag of beef jerky. But who am I to judge?

  "Hi, yes. Maybe I'm in the wrong place. I'm looking for 17th Park..."

  "Yeah, yeah," he interrupts, walking past me. I turn and watch him walk into the office area while he waves his arm at me to follow. "You must be Hope Manson. Probation with Colton, correct?" He fumbles through some paperwork, not eyeing me.

  I continue to stand in the doorway and watch him. "That’s right, I'm Hope."

  He pulls out a folder and opens it, throwing some papers to the side and skimming his eyes over another. "You're in room nine. All the bedrooms are upstairs as well as one bathroom. I'll show you around in a few moments. First, why don't you get comfortable? We have a lot of rules to discuss."

  I take the few steps forward and sit in the chair across from his desk. He doesn't sit and I have to admit it intimidates me. "I went over the rules with Colton already," I tell him.

  His eyes peek up at me over the folder but his expression doesn't change. "We have a lot of rules to discuss."

  I slump down a little more in the chair and let my bags fall to the ground. All I want to do is shower, get dressed into real clothes and go search for a job. I have a few high schools to attend to first.

  The guy introduces himself as Jase. He goes over exactly everything my probation officer discussed with me, made me sign a paper saying I agree to the terms and conditions, then he showed me around the home I'll be occupying until I can afford my own place.

  The downstairs is a large kitchen, an even larger dining area, a living room with three different couches, and even a small game room. It only consists of puzzles, bored games, and an old PlayStation hooked up to a TV from the early 90's, but its something. He explained the table in the foyer is where our guests have to sign in and out when they visit, and that all guests must stay downstairs. I won't be having any of those, so that is no problem to me whatsoever.

  Upstairs there is a total of ten bedrooms. Five on each side of the hall. They're small, and each contain a bunk bed, a small closet, a tall dresser, and a side table with a lamp. There is nothing covering the window in any of the rooms, and apparently there isn't allowed to be anything. The closet and dresser is to be shared with our roommate, and lights are to be out by ten.

  We don't have to be in by ten, as I already knew, but when we come in we cannot wake anyone up or turn on any lights or we will be written up. There are a lot of things you can be written up for, and after five write ups you're out for good.

  The bathroom we have consists of two toilets, two showers, and one large sink. It reminds me of a small locker room you'd have at a school. There are cubbies to place our toiletries with locks so no one can steal our stuff.

  Currently there are eleven other residents. Because of this, I have a roommate. She isn't here now and I'm actually thankful for that. Once I'm in the room and left alone, I unpack what little I have, storing it in the bottom drawer of the dresser since it’s an empty one. The bottom bunk has a few extra pillows thrown on it and a nice comforter, while the top bunk has a thin blanket and lump for a pillow. I know which bed is mine and I'm actually a little excited to sleep on the top, as I was always on the bottom bunk when I was locked up.

  Closing my eyes, I take a small break of what my life suddenly has become. It’s still surreal. I'm used to schedules. I'm used to food being served on trays then making my way to the kitchen for clean-up. I'm used to burning energy at the gym or playing some basketball. I'm used to lounging in an oversized chair with headphones on, listening to the television hooked to the side of the room. I'm used to playing Spades with Laura, or Monopoly with Becky. I'm not used to being told to do whatever I please.

  After a moment of processing my own thoughts, I grab my toiletries and an outfit for the day and make way into the bathroom. One thing that isn't different is that I'm allowed ten minutes to shower and the hot water is more like luke warm. Once I'm finished up and feeling better, I shut off the water and reach for my towel- which isn't there. "Damn," I mumble. I don't have a towel.

  I wrap the curtain close to my body and look around. I don't see any anywhere, not that I exactly want to use someone else’s. There is an air dryer however for when you're done washing your hands. Since there was only one other girl here when Jase showed me around, and he went back downstairs, I decide to hop out of the shower and tip toe over the dryer. Turning it on, I use it to dry off my body, as well as the tips of my hair so they stop dripping. I'm not sure how long I'm under the damn thing, but I know it had to be close to twenty minutes.

  Note to self: buy a towel.

  I get dressed, pull my belongings out from the shower, and do a quick clean up. Once I'm back into my room I realize I also never bought a brush. This day is already rough and since I don't have a hair tie either, I know I'm going to look like a mess. I climb onto the top bunk and immediately start combing my hair with my fingers, hoping it doesn't take me several hours.

  It’s not much longer the door opens and a girl with spiraled black hair comes strutting in. She stops in her tracks and looks up to me. I'm almost half way done with my hair and I'm sure she thinks I'm straight from the psychiatric ward- as some of the girls placed in here are. "Hey," she says with a head nod.

  "Hey, I'm Hope," I tell her.

  She tosses her purses onto the bed and rids herself from her shoes, placing them under the bed. "Karah."

  Karah opens the top drawer and I'm surprised when she hands me a hair brush. "I forgot one my first day here too. If you need anything else, let me know."

  "Thank you," I tell her, grabbing the brush. I brush out the knots and run my fingers through it one more time, making sure I didn't miss any. Once I'm finished I hand it back to her with a smile. "That feels so much better."

  "I'm sure. I remember how it is. I've only been here for a few weeks."

  "How do you like it so far?"

  She shrugs and looks out the window. "Better than rehab, that is for sure." She looks back in my direction and clears her throat. "Yan lives across the hall, she is a clepto so be warned. Bonnie is the door by the stair case and she is a pathological liar. She is good at it too, it’s a little freaky. Besides the two of them, most of us are normal. Well, as normal as one can be. Some got in a little trouble, and others like myself are just trying to live like any other person after an addiction. We all usually get along, so I'm sure you'll fit in fine here."<
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  I can feel the tension and nervousness I had dwindle at her encouragement. We're all a little messed up but we're human and can be friends. Friends aren't something I have... for obvious reasons.

  "So what brings you here?" Karah asks nonchalantly as she pulls out new clothing from her drawers.

  I feel really nervous telling her, feeling as though my situation is much worse than a drug or alcohol addiction. I clear my throat and look down at my hands. "I just finished my time... for manslaughter." After an awkward pause I add, "And I obviously have nowhere to go."

  The silence in the room is deafening and I close my eyes, afraid to get a glimpse of the fear on Karah's face. I'm not an animal, well not anymore, and I don't want her to think that just minutes after meeting. Especially if we're going to be sharing a room for the next few months.

  "How long did you do?" she whispers.

  "Six years," I mutter out.

  "Huh, well," her voice lifts in spirit. I open my eyes and peek up at her. "You just get out today?"

  I nod my head in answer.

  Her lips lift into a smile. "I got the place for you tonight."

  Wes

  I roll over in bed and reach up to grab my favorite pillow, just to cuddle it for five more minutes. The only things in the world you'll ever see me cuddle is that ninety dollar down pillow and my dog. But it's not there. Fuck, what is this shit? It's... hair. Nope, this shit is not happening.

  Slowly I open my eyes to see red hair sprawled out. Fuck this shit, I don't want this bitch in my bed. "Wake up," I grumble in my raspy morning voice. She was not supposed to have spent the night. They never do, they never will. Well, obviously unless I'm so drunk that I didn't even know I brought a girl home with me.

  She actually swats at me, ignoring my remark.

  "Get the fuck out of my bed," I say much louder with a clearer voice.

  She sighs the same time she rolls over and looks at me. Black makeup is smudged across one side of her face and her hair is mused to her head on the same side. "Baby," she whines out, her hand reaching to run across my stomach.

  I catch it and place it on my limp dick. "You can suck me off or you can get out. I have a meeting this morning."

  "Wes," she hisses. "You're always such an ass."

  "Yeah, well, you keep coming back for more." I move from her direction when her hand removes itself from my dick, then I sit up and rub my hands over my face, resting my elbows on my knees. "Next time if you happen to pass out here, leave before I'm up."

  I can hear her huff and getting all pissy, probably rushing to get dressed. "There won't be a next time Wes Styles. You hear me? Never again."

  I know she'll be back for more, but I don't bother arguing with her. I believe this is the sixth or seventh time this month we've fucked. Its about time to give her the 'ol boot once and for all anyways. They get clingy after a while, and her spending the night makes it obvious she thinks this is more than what it is.

  "I don't know who you think you are, but I don't let any guy treat me like this. I'm better than this. Don't bother calling."

  I look over at her and give her that grin I know will piss her off. "I don't even know you're name, sweetheart." And that is the honest to God truth. I think its Virginia or something like that, but I can't be certain. She really wasn't worth remembering, even if she was a good fuck.

  "You're going to die a lonely old man." She turns on her heels and storms out of my room. I don't even jump when the front door slams shut. Instead I lay back and look up to the ceiling.

  Dying a lonely old man is better than ending up the way my dad did. Cheated on, lied to, humiliated, then all his money taken from his bank account before the woman he claims as my birth mother took off, leaving the two of us with nothing but a couple cans of soup in the cupboard. That woman is a worthless bitch, and she proved to me at the age of five that I cannot trust women.

  So of course I'll fuck them a few times and be done with them. Why would I ever risk going through what my pops went through? It took him almost ten years to get back on his feet and by then he had to start dishing out money for me to do all these workshops. I skipped college but had to take a few courses at a community college so I could start working with him.

  Sharmane jumps up on the bed and cuddles up next to me. My dog, a labor doodle, is the only thing I need in life. She'll keep me warm and happy. That much is for sure. "Did that girl scare you?" I rub her belly and watch her kick out her bottom leg when I find the right spot. She wiggles around and when I stop rubbing her belly, she looks over at me unimpressed. This is one spoiled dog for sure.

  "Come on, let’s get breakfast. I don't need to be late."

  After filling up on eggs and toast, I make my shower quick and head into work. My dad is waiting for me in my office. "Wes, didn't think I'd see you today."

  I give him a pointed look. "I'm not even late."

  Tossing a file onto my desk the same time I take my seat, he grins at me and reminds me for the third time this morning, "Meeting at eight."

  "Got it."

  Before he reaches the door to leave my office, he throws out a, "You look like shit."

  "Didn't sleep well," I tell him without looking up.

  Opening the file, I read quickly about Todd Jenkins, our newest client. Only being twenty four, he has managed to be married for the third time, and has a total of four children among these three women. Now he is getting divorced from wife number three, and claiming once again he has a job offer out of state, meaning he is taking off and leaving another child fatherless. His wife has hired us to prove he is in fact a lying bastard so she can get a larger sum of money in the end of the mess they're in.

  This is the business my father runs. This job is somewhere between a social worker, lawyer, and private investigator. We help families in need when the person they're in love with does something as fucked up, as Todd Jenkins is doing. To help families from becoming what my dad and I became when my mom decided to leave us high and dry.

  I grab the folder and make my way into the board room. My dad, Donald, and Tuck are all already sitting and waiting. Taking my seat, I immediately join in conversation about how we're going to bring the bastard down. We have to be careful on how we do our work, because the smallest mistake can have him walking away from his family with everything he owns. Our job has us making sure that doesn't happen. He needs to suffer as much as he is causing his family to suffer. We have to find all the facts and bring them to a judge who will have him paying out the ass for the rest of his life.

  Today being an easy day, it goes by quickly, and before I know it I'm clocking out. Before I make it home my phone is ringing, and I look at the ID to see my best friend, Tristian, is calling. "What’s up?"

  "How'd last night go with Veronica?"

  Veronica, that’s right, that is her name. "Woke up with the bitch in my bed. I told her it wasn't to happen again and she stormed out this morning. Don't really remember even making it home last night though, so I have a feeling it was a good night."

  Tristian gets laughing, knowing exactly how I am. We've been best buds since the second grade, which means he knows why I'm the way I am and he supports my decision on never settling down. He hasn't made a choice in slowing down the bachelor lifestyle either, so it works in both our benefits as of now. One day I know he'll find the so-called one and it'll put a wedge between us, but until then its drinking and sex with whoever, whenever, for the both of us.

  "You practically had your pants off before you climbed into the cab. I can only imagine." Without so much as a pause, he continues with why he called. "Listen, Peter St. Morris is having a party tonight. You remember him, right?"

  "Yeah, I remember him. I didn't know he was still in town."

  "His lady just left him, so he moved back last month. He decided to buy a shit ton of booze and invited whoever out to his new pad. He lives down on Rod Street, the last house, so it isn't likely to get busted, no matter how big it gets. What do you say
? I can pick you up around nine if you want to go."

  Still feeling groggy from last night has me almost saying no, but needing a different pussy has me deciding this is a good idea. "Why the hell not. I'll be good to go by the time you get here."

  "Nice. See you then." He hangs up from his side, and I walk through my front door once my phone is slid into my pocket.

  Sharmane meets me at the door, wiggling her tail, ready to go out for a bathroom break. I hook on her leash and head outside. While walking her to the side of the building where she takes care of her business, I lean against the house and close my eyes. The sun is shining bright and the warmth brings me a strange comfort. North Carolina in early April is perfect for me. Not too hot or muggy, it’s just right. I'm looking forward to the long, hot summer coming up.

  Pulling away from me, Sharmane brings me back to the here and now. She runs quickly back to the front of the house, causing me to jolt forward and run smack into a petite dark haired girl. "Shit, sorry about that," I tell her. I pull on the leash, stopping Sharmane in her tracks. She sits patiently and looks up at me innocently, as if she didn't just cause me to nearly knock over this chick in front of me.

  The girl smiles at me and shamelessly looks me up and down. "As you should be," she claims flirtatiously.

  I take a step back and take in her tiny, beautiful body as well. "Wes Styles," I introduce myself.

  "Karah Robinson." She flicks some of her long, curled hair over her shoulder and continues to smile at me.