by Kit Morgan
Of course, that was if she got the job. If she did, she’d go to England, starting as a private tutor for a sort of probation period. Survive that and she’d be in charge of a classroom. The United Kingdom had had an influx of immigrants whose English wasn’t very good. She wished she’d thought to ask what countries the immigrants were from, but she’d been so excited over the direction the interview was going that she didn’t want to press.
Once home, Tory changed her clothes and made a sandwich. She had no idea where Benny was and part of her hoped he didn’t come home for a while – she wanted time to think before she went to bed. On the other hand, the rest of her wanted her car back. Benny had taken it the last few days, and riding the local bus to her interview had not been a pleasant experience.
After eating she went into the living room with pen and paper and made a list of everything she’d need to take care of before she left. She also made a list of everything Benny would need to take care of after she left. Needless to say, both lists were long. How to break the news to him? She didn’t want him to pitch a fit and break something. She glanced around, wondering what she ought to put out of sight for safety’s sake.
She stopped herself. “Tory, you’re being ridiculous. He’s an immature jerk, but …” She remembered him flipping the couch over. “… okay, he’s a jerk who breaks things.” She got up and moved the vase and pictures from the mantle to a corner, then did the same in the kitchen and dining room. If he asked where everything was, she’d tell him she’d been dusting.
She was thinking about Benny-proofing her own room when the phone rang. She picked it up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, doll,”
She mimed gagging. “Mr. Smith. What do you need?”
“Oh, doll, I’d love to tell you what I need, but this isn’t a personal call, this is business. You gotta come in an hour early tomorrow.”
She ignored his lurid line. “An hour early? Why?”
“Maria’s having her baby tonight. You’d think she could wait until next week.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t worry, I’ll get the laundry done in time.”
“I knew I could count on you, doll.”
She cringed and rolled her eyes again. “Is that it?”
“That’s it. See you tomorrow.” Click.
She groaned and hung up. Her employer might be a perv, but he did his share of the work around the place – she’d seen that when she interviewed. Maybe Benny could take over her job – Mr. Smith wouldn’t be as ticked off at her departure if she lined up a replacement. Of course, Benny was lazy and slow, but that would be Mr. Smith’s problem, not hers. And Benny would have to learn to hustle if he was going to take care of himself. With any luck, it would stick.
Tory smiled at the thought, grabbed the remote, turned on the TV and settled in to watch some Law & Order.
Three days later she received the call. “I got it! I got it!” Tory yelped afterward, throwing in a few jumps for good measure.
Benny sauntering through the front door, on the other hand, killed her excitement. “What’s going on? You got what?”
Tory froze. What should she tell him? No matter how she put it, he’d probably freak.
“Sis?” he prompted, eyes narrowed as he pulled a joint from the front pocket of his shirt.
For a moment he reminded her of Mr. Smith, her greasy employer … that was it! She smiled. “I got you a job.”
Benny blanched. “You … you what?” He stumbled to the couch and sat.
“You heard me,” she said with a satisfied nod. “I got you a job.”
“What kind of job?” he replied cautiously.
“Mine. At least we both know you’re capable of it.”
He stared at her a moment, then burst out laughing. “Your job? Are you out of your frigging mind? Wash a bunch of sheets with God only knows what on them? Clean floors? Make beds?”
“Uh-huh. It’ll be perfect for you – not hard, decent money. And they don’t drug-test.”
He seemed to consider that last part, then shook his head. “No. Uh-uh.”
“Benny, you haven’t worked in months. I’m handing this to you, because I’ve got some classes to take for my new job.” Let him swallow that, she thought.
His eyebrows rose. “You got another job?”
“Yes, I did,” she said with a hint of pride. Her excitement was rising again, making it hard to hide it.
“That’s great!” He stretched out on the couch and put his hands behind his head, as if all his troubles were over. “When do you start?”
“There’s a lot of training involved. And I go overseas for the job. That’s why you’ll have to work. You’ve been living off me long enough, little brother – it’s time you grew up.”
He shook himself. “Wait a minute … overseas?”
She was wondering if he’d caught that. “Yes, which means you’ll need to grow up fast.”
His eyes narrowed as he sat up. “I am grown up!”
Tory’s happy face disappeared. “Really?” she sighed, hands on hips. “You haven’t worked in months. You do nothing around here except make a mess. You spend all your time running around with your friends and sponging off them, or off me. What part of any of that says ‘grown up’?”
He grimaced. The truth hurt. But then, so did the book he picked up and threw at her. She ducked, but it clipped her in the forehead. “You brat!” She snatched up the book and was ready to throw it back, but stopped. What good would that do? He’d just lob it at her again, maybe break a window in the process. At least she’d had the foresight to move the breakables.
Benny jumped off the couch and headed for the door, then stopped. “Where are the keys?”
“Where are my keys, you mean. Somewhere you can’t get at them.”
He stormed back, looking ready to spit nails. “Give me the keys!”
Benny was taller and stronger, but Tory was fed up and willing to gamble that he didn’t have the guts to actually hit her. “No. Benny, you’re going to work and that’s that. I’m no longer supporting you. Things are changing around here. You can take the bus or walk if you want to get somewhere. Cope.”
He glared at her, then turned away again. “Fine!” he whined on the way out, slamming the door behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Tory let go the breath she’d been holding. “Lord help me, if he doesn’t get it together, he’s going to get himself killed. Possibly by me.” She took a deep breath, noticed she still had the book in her hand and put it on the newly duct-taped coffee table. The table wobbled under the weight but held together.
She shook her head in dismay, but was still glad she hadn’t caved to Benny’s demands. She had too much at stake, too much to lose. She never realized how much she wanted to change her life until the opportunity presented itself. Her dream was suddenly becoming a reality and she wasn’t going to blow it – or let him blow it.
She went into the kitchen, got a glass of water and downed it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as visions of Benny trashing the house while she was in England ran through her head. Would he – could he – take care of business while she was gone, or would he destroy everything? But she couldn’t keep taking responsibility for him. He was an adult – physically, at least … “Oh, what am I thinking? How can I do this without him screwing things up?”
Frustrated, Tory got another glass of water and went into the living room. She thought of putting the knick-knacks back on the mantle, but decided against it. Instead she went into her room, retrieved the employee packet from MacMos International Educators and started to read through the instructions for her classes again. There would be time enough later to think about dealing with Benny.
Chapter Four
It took a few days, but Benny finally calmed. He even began asking questions about her job – his job, once he had it – what kind of boss Mr. Smith was (Benny didn’t think that was his real name either) and, of course, what her fel
low female coworkers looked like. After she informed him they were pretty cute, he was more interested in taking over the position. He’d said so just as she left for her first class.
It made Tory suspicious. He never chilled out that soon after a confrontation, especially one that involved him actually having to lift a finger. She couldn’t help but wonder what his angle was. After all, someone like Benny didn’t just grow up overnight.
Tory arrived at her destination, parked the car and, once inside the building, looked up the room she needed. She went up a set of stairs to the second-floor classroom to discover a half-dozen people milling around, including a man she assumed was the instructor. He was tall, but not as tall as some of the other … students? Applicants? He had a lanky build, a boyish face and gray hair, but was clearly the oldest person there. He looked like if Jim Carrey had decided to become a computer engineer instead of a comedian.
She looked at the others and tried not to make some stupid sound to embarrass herself. Some of the guys were hot! They also looked a few years younger than her and were quietly speaking another language, making it hard to figure out where they might be from. She wondered if they were students of the sort she’d be working with. She certainly hoped so! The rest of the group, mostly female, looked like locals and weren’t hiding that they thought the guys were gorgeous. They stared at them, then whispered amongst themselves before staring some more.
Tory ignored them and turned back to the front of the room. She recognized the Hispanic girl that was speaking to the instructor from around town – maybe she lived in her neighborhood.
The instructor gave the girl a parting nod. “If you would all take your seats, we can get started,” he declared. Everyone claimed a desk and sat. Tory made sure she grabbed one up front. She knew she was easily distracted and didn’t want to miss anything. She’d brought a notepad from home and even bought a new pen for the occasion. She pulled both out of the backpack she’d brought and set them on her desk.
The instructor took his place at the front, looked at her and smiled before turning to the whiteboard behind him and writing his name. “Welcome, everyone. I’m Mr. Mosgofian – the ‘Mos’ of ‘MacMos,’ as it were …”
Tory couldn’t hide her gasp. This was the co-owner of the company! What was he doing teaching the classes? She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“Everyone here in this room has something in common,” he continued. “That you’re here means you’re interested in expanding your life experiences.” He turned to the desk, picked up a stack of papers and began passing them out. “Some of you are more familiar with our program than others, but I’m still going to go over the fine points. All the information you need is on these sheets. Over the next six weeks we’ll be covering a lot of material, so take plenty of notes.” He returned to the front and leaned against the desk again.
Excitement raced up Tory’s spine. This was it! She would learn everything she needed to go abroad and teach, or at least tutor. This was like a dream come true and she hoped and prayed the next six weeks went by fast. The sooner she got out of Stockton, the better her life would be.
Mr. Mosgofian looked over his students, his eyes coming to rest on her. He smiled again. “So let’s begin.”
Three hours later, Tory thought her brain might explode. Sure, she’d taken English at the local community college, but this? Mr. Mosgofian had them poring over classic literature and studying eighteenth and nineteenth century modes of speech. What were they going to be teaching? There was proper English and there was this stuff. Why were they studying it at all?
She didn’t get the answer until the end of class. “I’m sure by now you’re all wondering why we’ve been studying this particular material tonight,” Mr. Mosgofian stated.
Tory nodded. She didn’t know if the others did or not – she was too tired to turn and look.
“It’s because you’re going to be teaching this to your students. Learning history gives them a context for learning and using English – it helps it stick in their minds. There will be other topics you’ll cover with them over the course of time, but like any good teacher you have to know the material inside and out first. And yes, there will be tests – our next class will start with one. We’ll go over everything we talked about tonight, so study well.”
Tory’s face fell.
“Problem, Miss Phelps?”
“No,” she squeaked and quickly cleared her throat. “Not at all.”
He looked like he was suppressing a smile. “That’s a relief. Class dismissed.”
Tory did her best not to sigh in exasperation. She closed her notebook and put everything in her bag as the others gathered up their things and prepared to leave.
The locals were talking outside by the time she stepped out the door. How was it they knew each other and she didn’t know anyone? Mr. Mosgofian did say some of them were already familiar with the material – had they already had a few classes? No matter – she’d make a point to ask next time. With a smile she got into her car and drove home.
“That went well,” she muttered as she unlocked her front door and went inside. Naturally Benny wasn’t home, but she didn’t care. All he’d do is pester her about money, or being hungry and wanting fast food. Well, once he took over her job at the motel he could buy his own burgers. But his willingness to go with her idea still nagged at her. If Benny was anything, he was lazy. She figured he’d fight her on this for weeks instead of days. But who was she to argue?
With a satisfied smile, Tory went to bed and had her first good night’s sleep in a very long time. In fact, she slept so well that when she went to work the next day, it was with a happy smile instead of the look of dread she usually wore.
“Morning, doll,” Mr. Smith said as she entered his office.
She grabbed the keys off the hook in the wall. “Good morning.”
He left his chair, went to the window and peeked out.
“See something interesting?”
He scratched his head. “There’s a limo driving by. Pulled in once and left. I thought I saw it last night too.”
Tory made a face. “Um, maybe its someone’s … boss?” She didn’t want to say “pimp.”
“I don’t run that kind of place.” He returned his attention to the window.
She gave him a “yeah, right” look, but it was wasted – he didn’t turn around again. Curious, she joined him.
“See, there it goes!” he pointed.
Sure enough, a big black limo drove by. Slowly. “What do they want?”
“I dunno and I don’t wanna find out.” He pulled on a string, lowering the blinds. “I bet they’re after one of the guests. Great, that’s all I need! The last time the cops were here it was a nightmare.”
“Cops?” she said with alarm. “Why would the cops come?”
He pointed at the door. “Because that’s what they do after someone’s been shot.”
She gasped. “Shot?!”
He nodded and sat. “How big is your brother? Maybe once he starts working here, he can make sure folks don’t cause trouble.”
“Benny?” she said with a laugh. “I’m afraid he’s not your guy. He doesn’t know how to do that sort of thing.”
“He could learn.”
“To what? Be the motel bouncer?”
“Something like that.” He ran a hand through his wisps of greasy hair. “Eh, get to work.”
She stuffed the keys into her jeans pocket and left the office. She’d never seen Mr. Smith nervous, but considering the place’s clientele, he should be. Who knew what sort of business was conducted on the property in the middle of the night? Did her boss even know? He didn’t live on the premises so wasn’t there all the time. Marge, the night manager who looked more like a man than a woman, took care of the place when Mr. Smith wasn’t around.
She shrugged the thought off and got to work. After a couple of hours, she had last night’s laundry well underway and was almost ready to clean a few rooms
when she spied the limo pull into the parking lot. Curious, she watched from her vantage point in the breezeway to see what would happen. She wasn’t disappointed. A tall, well-dressed middle-aged man with brown hair got out and went straight to the office.
Tory watched and waited for a few minutes before she decided she’d ask her boss about him later. Besides, it wasn’t any of her business. She just hoped that if there was any trouble, she wasn’t around. She didn’t need to be caught up in some police investigation of a drug deal gone bad. But in this part of town, things happened. She wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Smith was right about someone getting shot.
She worked a couple more hours before taking a lunch break. She had some studying to do and decided a soda from the vending machine would help her think. The ice machine was near the office. She’d fill the water container she kept in the car and have the soda over ice. She was just getting the ice when her boss darted out of the office. “Did they come back yet?”
“Who?” She set her container down on the cement walkway, popped open her can of soda and began to pour the contents over her ice.
“The man in the limo, that’s who.”
She looked up. “Oh, him. What did he want, anyway? I saw him go into the office.”
“They rented a room.”
“They?”
“Two occupants. ‘Graves’ was the name he put on the register. I didn’t get the other man’s name. Big crime bosses, no doubt.”
“Oh.” She finished pouring, took a sip and reveled in the feel of bubbly goodness sliding down her throat. Maybe her boss had an overactive imagination. “You’re expecting this Mr. Graves and his associate to shoot the place up later?”