Lifers

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Thanks, buddy,” I whispered, as I pulled it on.

  I managed to leave just as Momma was coming home. Her face was sour with disapproval as usual, glaring at me through the windshield. I wondered if I’d have to appear before the inquisition when I got back, or whether she hated me too much to care where I’d been.

  The usual feelings of anxiety chased me through town and all the way to the mall. I pushed them back and reminded myself that I was doing nothing wrong by being here. I wasn’t a free man, but I wanted to make the most of the liberty I had.

  I studied the coffee shop carefully through the plate glass window. There were maybe a dozen people scattered around the room inside, and four or five sitting on the patio, although I got the sense it was getting busier as commuters passed by on their way home from work.

  I still wasn’t used to the idea of there being a mall in this piss-ant little town.

  I didn’t recognize anyone, which was a good start, but it was only when I saw Torrey standing behind the enormous, stainless steel coffee maker that I got up the nerve to push open the door and walk in.

  I lined up behind two other guys who were buying take-out coffee, hoping that Torrey would look up and notice me. She appeared to be concentrating on the monster machine, and I couldn’t help smiling as a billow of steam made her jump slightly.

  I started to give my order to the cashier, but as soon as Torrey heard my voice, she looked up and grinned.

  “Hey, babe!” she said, walking toward me. “Whatcha doing here? Stalker, much?”

  “I missed you,” I said, honestly. “So I thought I’d come see where you work.”

  The cashier smiled, her eyes flicking between us. “Is this your boyfriend, Torrey?”

  I was painfully curious to see how she’d answer that question. It wasn’t something we’d discussed. I guess technically we were still waiting for our first date.

  “I don’t know, Bev,” she smirked. “I’m thinking about keeping this one around a while—see how he works out. He’ll get his fitness report after the weekend.” And she winked at me.

  “Well, let me know how that goes,” said the woman named Bev, “because I’ll take him off your hands if you’re not certain.”

  “Sure!” laughed Torrey. “Give me your number and I’ll let you know if he’s available.”

  “Hey!” I huffed out. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

  “No!” they both said in unison, and laughed.

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine, I’ll just do as I’m told. Let me know how I do, sweetheart.”

  “Waal,” said Torrey. “I’ll keep you around for now—see how you shape up.”

  Bev giggled. “Oh, I’d say he’s in fine shape, honey. Very fine shape.”

  Her lascivious look was starting to make me sweat, and I glanced around, looking for a retreat.

  “Take the table in the corner,” Torrey said, sensing my sudden discomfort. “I’ll bring you your coffee.”

  I smiled my thanks and turned to go, but not before I heard Bev ask, “Is he as hot in bed as he looks?”

  I didn’t hear Torrey’s answer, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  The place got pretty hectic after that, mostly take-out orders, so Torrey was busy. But about 10 PM she sauntered over to my table and plopped what looked like a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich in front of me, except it was made from some fancy Italian bread.

  “I thought if you’re going sit here all night, I’d better feed you,” she smiled.

  “Thanks! I am pretty hungry.”

  Which was an understatement. I was half starving but I couldn’t afford to buy anything on the menu besides coffee.

  She watched me eat for a moment, a small smile on her face.

  “Are you waiting till I finish, cowboy, because I’ve got another two hours to go yet. God, my feet are killing me. I’d forgotten how tiring these gigs are.”

  I frowned slightly. “Um, actually I’m gonna have to get gone in a few minutes.”

  She looked disappointed. “Oh, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Torrey, no! I wish I could stay. I want to spend every goddamn minute of the day with you, but I…” my voice dropped to a whisper, “I have curfew.”

  Her mouth popped open in a small O, and a look of understanding crossed her face.

  “Shit! Sorry, Jordan. I completely forgot.”

  “It’s cool. I know it’s kind of pathetic that a man my age has a fuckin’ curfew.”

  I dragged my hands through my hair, frustrated by the invisible chains that held me back, stopping me from behaving like a normal guy.

  “Hey,” she said softly, grabbing my wrists. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Go home, get some rest. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  I blew out a long breath. “Sunday, yeah. Should I pick you up after church?”

  Her eyebrows shot upward.

  “Um, no! I don’t go to church, so you can pick me up any time you want.”

  “Oh … I just thought, what with your momma and all…”

  She grinned a little. “No, we have an understanding about that. I don’t do church.”

  “Well, I could pick you up about nine?”

  “Make it ten. It’s my one chance to sleep in, and I want to make the most of it.”

  God, I want to sleep in with her, but I don’t think I can tell her that. Not yet.

  “Okay, 10 AM. I’ll be there.”

  I moved to stand up but she hung onto my arm.

  “What am I supposed to wear?”

  “Excuse me?” I said, my mind immediately going straight to the gutter and imagining her in a range of lingerie that was probably illegal.

  “For our date, Mr. Smooth Talker—and don’t think I don’t know what you were just imagining. Am I supposed to dress up or what?”

  Shit! I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  “Oh, I’ll text you,” I said, with a confidence I most definitely wasn’t feeling.

  “Cool!” she said, and slid out of her seat.

  As she passed my chair, she leaned down and pressed her soft lips against mine.

  “Sunday,” she said.

  But I still had 24 hours to go, and Saturday dragged endlessly. I missed Torrey. Christ, I hoped I wasn’t making her my new crutch.

  I thought about driving out to the mall just to catch a few minutes with her, but I didn’t want to come over like a crazy obsessive stalker. I’d already pissed her off so many times. I didn’t want to risk it again.

  Instead, I lifted some weights in the garage, and then went for a long run. I also had to think about where I was going to take her on our date. I’d been so caught up in the sheer fucking joy of having a date to look forward to, that I’d completely forgotten to plan where we were going to go and what we were going to do.

  I was as nervous as all get out. I hadn’t been on a date since 2006. I assumed things were still done the same but who the hell knew? Plus, there were two fucking big hurdles: I couldn’t go more than ten miles from town, and I didn’t have any money.

  Feeling slightly crazed, I drove to the only other place where people hadn’t thrown rocks at me.

  Hulk’s junkyard had been a home from home when Mikey and me were growing up. The guy might look like the kind of person who’d eat your lungs with a spoon, but he was actually pretty cool. He’d taught us both about cars, although Mikey had never been as into it as I was. Still, Hulk had tolerated us hanging out there, and we’d gotten to know him pretty well.

  I was disappointed to see that there were several other cars in the parking lot when I drove up. I waited a few minutes until the office had emptied out, then tapped on the door and poked my head around the frame.

  “Hey, man.”

  Hulk was sitting behind the desk, a stack of paperwork in front of him, with a pair of what looked like kid’s glasses squashed onto the end of his nose.

  He looked up and grinned, waving me into the only uncluttered chair in the room. I
sat down, coughing slightly when a cloud of dust billowed up around me.

  “Hey yourself, kid. How’d those tires work out for you?”

  “They’re great. I just wanted to stop by and say thanks. I know you didn’t have to do that.”

  He waved my gratitude away.

  “Just a bunch of old rubber. No skin off of my nose, kid. So, what do you need today?”

  “Uh, nothin’. Just thought I’d come hang out, if that’s okay.”

  He gave me an appraising look. He might come over as big and slow-witted, but quite a few guys had lost their front teeth making that assumption. “Your folks giving you a bad time?”

  I looked away. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Uh huh. And what about that lil’ firecracker you brought by last time—she kicked your ass yet?”

  “Oh, man! She kicks my ass every time she sees me.”

  “Heh heh! Them feisty ones are worth keepin’ around. So where is she?” he said, looking over my shoulder as if Torrey might suddenly appear. I wish.

  “Workin’. But we’ve got a date tomorrow.”

  “She’s purty as a junebug, full of sass, and she has a job? Man, how did you get so lucky?”

  I frowned. “I know I don’t deserve her, Hulk…”

  “You jest quit sayin’ that, boy!” he growled. “I’ve said it over and over and even done tole your folks—what happened was an accident. A dumb luck, shitty accident. That’s all. Beatin’ yourself up about it ain’t gonna bring Mikey back. You know that. You gotta work on findin’ a way to live with yourself.”

  I sighed.

  “That’s the hard bit, Hulk. I just don’t know how to.”

  He leaned back, making his worn out chair creak ominously.

  “That purty lil’ gal seems like a right good start. You tole her everythin’ about you?”

  “Pretty much. She hasn’t run away screamin’ yet.”

  “Knew she was a keeper. So where you takin’ her on this famous date?”

  I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. “I have no fuckin’ clue! I’m broke; I cain’t go more than ten miles from town; and I’ve got a fuckin’ 11 PM curfew!”

  “Hmm,” said Hulk. “That’s a tricky one, sho nuff.” He scratched his balls lazily then smiled from behind his beard. “You still got them fishin’ poles of Mikey’s?”

  “I guess. I’m fairly sure Dad wouldn’t have gotten rid of them. I think I saw them in the garage.”

  “Well, there you go. Find a nice, quiet, private fishin’ hole,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively to make his point, “catch a couple of big ole sea trout and there’s supper.”

  I stared at him skeptically. “You think I should take Torrey fishin’ on our date?”

  “Unless you can come up with a better idea,” he challenged me.

  Nope. I was fresh out of ideas.

  Hulk smiled proudly. “Thought not.”

  Just then a shadow fell across the doorway.

  “What the fuck is he doin’ here?” came a harsh voice.

  I twisted around in my chair. Staring down at me, bristling with anger and hatred, stood a guy about my dad’s age.

  I stood up right quick. “I was just leavin’.”

  “I don’t think so, boy,” said the man. “I asked you a question: what are you doin’ here?”

  “I don’t want any trouble, mister.”

  “You should have thought about that before you showed your face in public, you piece of shit!”

  He took a step toward me, and as he stepped from the brightness into the gloom of Hulk’s office, I finally recognized him: Dallas Dupont. His son, Ryan, had been on the football team with Mikey, and was one of his best friends. The three of us had hung out a lot.

  I didn’t know Ryan’s dad that well, but there was no mistaking the hatred in his voice. I was an expert at categorizing degrees of loathing.

  I tried to step past him but he blocked the doorway, pushing my shoulder roughly so that I staggered back.

  Rage flooded through me and without thinking, I slipped into a defensive crouch, ready to fight back.

  Hulk slammed one huge fist onto the table.

  “This is my place of business,” he roared, “and I’ll be the one to say who is and who ain’t welcome!”

  “He’s a freakin’ murderer, Hulk!” Dallas shouted.

  “You ignorant piece of crap. Get the hell outta here afore I have your damn car crushed!”

  Dallas looked stunned.

  “You takin’ his side over mine?”

  “There’s no side to take,” said Hulk, in a more even tone. “Jordan did his time.”

  “You think eight years is punishment enough for what he done? He took a life! He killed his own brother!”

  Hulk stared Dallas down. “I think livin’ with the knowledge of what he done is the worst punishment he could have. Now simmer down, Dallas.”

  “I ain’t stayin’ to listen to this horse shit, Hulk! You get your damn priorities straight. And you…” he stabbed a finger at me, “stay the fuck out of town if you know what’s good for your worthless hide.”

  Then he stomped out and his truck disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  “You can relax now, kid.”

  I stood up and blew out a breath. “Sorry, Hulk.”

  “You get that a lot?”

  I laughed mirthlessly. “All the freakin’ time.”

  He nodded slowly. “Cain’t be easy.”

  I didn’t answer, instead shaking out the tension in my hands.

  “You gettin’ into fights?”

  “Nah, cain’t risk it. One punch and they’d throw my ass back in jail.” I knew he was referring to my reaction to Dallas’ baiting. “But just ‘cause he hates me, don’t mean I’d let him rearrange my face.”

  Hulk didn’t respond. Maybe I’d pissed him off, too. If word got around that I’d been here—and Dallas Dupont would probably make sure that it was well known—then Hulk’s business could suffer. I was a fucking Jonah.

  “I should probably get gone.”

  Hulk shook his head slowly.

  “Don’t let ignorant bastards like that chase you out, kid.”

  I forced a smile.

  “Nah, I gotta head out. Got a hot date with a hot woman to plan.”

  Hulk rumbled out a laugh and heaved himself out of the chair.

  “You walkin’ me to my car, Hulk? ’Cause I just got through tellin’ you I have a date with Torrey. You’re not my type.”

  “I’m still fast enough to whup yo’ ass, Jordan Kane!” he growled.

  We stopped at my truck and he peered at the fresh paintwork.

  “Very nice! You do this all yourself?”

  “Yep. Made use of that paint you gave Torrey.”

  He looked impressed. “You want any more work like that?”

  I cocked my head to one side. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout, Hulk?”

  “Kid, this is good shit. I’ve got ten guys who’d bite your arm off tomorrow to get a chance at you paintin’ up their trucks.”

  “Yeah, and all ten of them want their trucks painted by me?”

  He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Seven or eight wouldn’t mind. You want the work?”

  I couldn’t believe what he was saying.

  “Hell, yes!”

  “Okay, you got a deal. You can use my yard—I’ll take myself a finder’s fee of thirty bucks a job and supply the paint. You keep the rest. Deal?”

  “Deal!”

  We shook hands and I drove out of there feeling … hell, words couldn’t describe how I felt. Was I happy? I’d felt something like this with Torrey but I’d assumed it was because of how I felt in the pants department whenever she was around. This was different, but the same, too. Maybe this was what happiness felt like.

  But as soon as I had that thought, my mood plummeted. What kind of twisted fucker was I to feel happy when my own brother was cold in his grave because of me?

  Torrey

&n
bsp; Bev had questioned me mercilessly after Jordan left. How long had I known him? Was it serious? How far did his tattoos extend? Where had he been all her life? That kind of thing. She practically begged me on bended knee to tell her what he was like in bed.

  I thought of the way he’d taken me hard and fast before I’d left for work that morning.

  “Wild!” I said with a wink, leaving the rest to her imagination.

  She groaned and started fanning herself.

  I was hoping that Jordan might drop in again on Saturday, but I didn’t see him. A couple of hours before closing and long after my feet had started killing me, he sent a text.

  Dress comfy. See you soon. J.

  Short and sweet. Hmm, he needed to work on his texting skills—maybe I’d have to teach him some sexting skills, too. I wondered where he was taking me. I knew his options were limited, so I was intrigued to see what he’d come up with.

  I honestly didn’t care what we did. I just enjoyed spending time with him, getting to know him. Of course, I hoped that sex would be somewhere in his plan … I sort of assumed it would.

  He’d said to wear comfortable clothes so I guessed it must be something outdoorsy. I wasn’t big on the outdoors, so I hoped we weren’t going to be hiking or riding horses or any cowboy crap like that. I’d nicknamed him ‘cowboy’ just to tease him about his strong, Texas accent, but he’d never mentioned anything about horses. I reminded myself I didn’t know him very well. Who knew what he’d come up with?

  So when Sunday morning came around, I dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and stuffed a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans into a backpack. I wondered about bringing some food and drink, but thought I might hurt his feelings if it looked like I couldn’t trust him to do the planning for all of that.

  Mom was going to a fundraiser meeting after church today. She’d left early as usual, saying she’d be home sometime in the evening. I didn’t mention that I had a date with her handyman. I couldn’t face another morning of Jordan-related breakfast drama. But if it became a regular thing with him, I’d have to tell her something. Maybe she’d be okay with it. After all, she’d stuck up for him with his parents.