Lifers

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “Of course!”

  “Then this is my answer: I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”

  And I walked out.

  Principles are great when you can afford them, but the way this day was going, I was down a girlfriend and a job.

  Next stop, Hulk. Maybe he could save my ass.

  The yard was pretty busy for a Monday morning. I guess in a recession folks go wherever they can to get a bargain and save money. Hulk was doing good business in car and truck parts—good enough to need some help, I hoped.

  I waited until he’d finished taking payment for a manifold, muffler and catalytic converter on a Ford Bronco before I approached him.

  “Thought you was gonna call me, kid? You miss me that much you gotta come by?”

  “Yep, just wanted to see your smilin’ face, Hulk.”

  “Heh heh! I’d rather look at that sweet girl of yours! Where’s she at? Kicked your sorry ass out yet?”

  I winced. “Uh, that’s a maybe, maybe not.”

  “Huh, women, eh? Sorry to hear that. You two looked good together. And what’s with the hair? Someone try to tar and feather you?”

  “Funny! Well, I’m sure there’s some as’d love to try. Hulk, I was wonderin’ if you needed more full-time help around here. I need work, and a few paint jobs ain’t gonna cut it.”

  He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Last I heard, you was handyman for the preacher-lady.”

  “Well, I was.”

  “I guess she didn’t like you sniffin’ around her daughter.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said, testily. “Torrey, she’s … special.”

  “Heh heh!” he coughed out another laugh. “You got it bad, ain’t you, kid?”

  “Ah, give me a break, Hulk! Can you use another pair of hands or not?”

  “Quit yer bitchin’. I can give you a few hours, say two, three days a week, but that’s all. Any use to you?”

  “Hell, yeah!”

  A couple of days was better than nothing, and if I could do some paint jobs on the other days, it would just about see me through. “That would be great, Hulk. But, uh, you know you’ll have to be approved by the Probation Service. They’ll come and ask a bunch of questions. I’m sorry, I know you won’t like them crawlin’ up your ass…”

  He waved his arm in the air, and I nearly ducked out of habit.

  Bastard laughed at me. “I’ll live. Give ‘em my number. Now go fix things with your girl. A woman like that is too fine to let go. G’wan, git!”

  “Yessir! Thanks, Hulk! Um…”

  “What now, kid?”

  “I guess it would go better with the Probation Service if I don’t have to tell them I want to work for a guy named Hulk.”

  “Yer skatin’ on thin ice, kid. You go tellin’ anyone else my business and look forward to singin’ soprano.”

  “I’ve got no one else to tell.”

  He gave me a hard stare that had me itching to back off a foot or two, but I held my ground.

  “Walter Winkler,” he muttered, at last.

  Wow. No wonder he preferred ‘Hulk’.

  “Um, okay. I’ll tell them.”

  I sat in my truck and called Officer Carson. Her phone went to voicemail so I left a message, giving her Hulk’s details. I really needed this to work.

  Next thing I had to fix was how I’d left it with Torrey. Or rather, how she’d left it with me, being as the last thing she’d said to me was ‘Fuck you’.

  I drove to the mall and parked outside the coffee shop. I debated with myself whether or not to text her first. After all, she’d given me the cell in the first place so I could apologize. Either she had a crystal ball or she’d just been figurin’ on me being an asshole.

  In the end, I decided against sending a text, hoping that seeing me in person would win more points than trying to do anything over the phone. The worst that could happen was that she’d scream at me—maybe throw something. That wouldn’t be anything new.

  But Bev was the first person I saw.

  “Wow, you’re brave!” she said, which didn’t fill me with hope. “What’d you do to her? She’s acting like she’s had a burr under her saddle all day!”

  “Just a slight misunderstandin’,” I said, trying to smile. “Is she around, Bev?”

  She winked at me. “I’ll go get her. Don’t suppose you have a bulletproof vest in that truck of yours?”

  “Oh, God! That bad?”

  She laughed. “Not nearly! Good luck, handsome! I’ll clear up the body parts later. By the way, the hair looks great.”

  She disappeared into the back and a minute later, Torrey came stomping out, looking mad enough to shit bricks.

  “Well?” she snapped.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart.” I rushed out an apology before she had time to start throwing punches. “This is all kind of new to me.”

  She took a deep breath, and I mentally prepared to duck.

  “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, too. I don’t know what it’s like for you, and I know you can’t afford idealism. It just makes me mad to think they can get away with treating you like that.”

  I’m sure my whole body relaxed when she started talking to me.

  “I know, and I really appreciate it, but you cain’t fight the system. If I come within even a whisper of trouble, they’ll throw me back inside so fast my head will spin. If I get into somethin’, it won’t matter who started it or why. Believe me, I’d love nothin’ more than to have handed those yahoos their asses on a freakin’ platter, but I cain’t.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. No asses. No platters. Just kiss me already!”

  She wouldn’t get an argument from me on that.

  Her hands wound up my back under my t-shirt and her soft lips attacked my mouth, her tongue forcing its way inside.

  She tasted of sweet coffee and cinnamon, and yep, I was instantly hard. I pulled away from her, vaguely aware that some of the other customers were watching us curiously.

  I leaned my forehead against hers and breathed in the scent of her hair and skin—always so good.

  “God, I needed that,” I said, quietly.

  “Me, too. I’m glad you stopped by, Jordan.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. I didn’t get my booty call earlier. I was missing you.”

  “Can you take a break now, sweetheart? Got my truck parked outside…”

  She pulled a face. “I wish. I took my break an hour ago. The manager will be riding my ass if I don’t get back to work soon.”

  “Okay, well, when do you get a day off? Maybe we can do something then?”

  “I could come by your place tomorrow morning—make good on that booty call!” she laughed.

  “Sorry, no. I’ll be at work.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “At my mom’s?”

  “Uh, no. She fired my ass all right. No, Hulk gave me two or three days a week helpin’ him out. And maybe another day or so on the paintwork.”

  “Oh, wow! That’s great. You should totally do some more artwork. What you did with your truck was awesome.”

  I wasn’t used to being praised. I felt awkward and unsure. “Uh, thanks.”

  “Well, I could come by after my shift,” she offered. “Can I stay the night at your place?”

  Jeez, that would be every teenage fantasy I’d ever had—a hot girl in my bedroom.

  “God, yes! You have to be quiet though. Dad and Momma will be asleep. I know, I know. I’m damn near 24 and still sneakin’ girls into my room. It’s freakin’ sad!”

  “How many girls you been a-sneaking?” she teased, trying to copy my accent again.

  “None so far, but I’m hopin’ to change that later.”

  “You feeling lucky?”

  I could answer that honestly.

  “Yes, I’m feelin’ lucky.”

  “See you later, cowboy,” she said.

  Torrey

  I was glad the coffee shop was busy otherwise I’d have
gone a little crazy. My brain was on overdrive when it came to Jordan and everything we’d talked about, everything he’d said. Perhaps even what he hadn’t said.

  “Happy now you’ve seen that hot guy of yours?” Bev asked, between customers.

  I winked at her. “Got me some happy times planned later, that’s for sure!”

  “I hate you!” she moaned. “Just promise you’ll tell me all about it. I’ve got to get my kicks somehow.”

  “You want me to kiss and tell?” I laughed.

  “Now you’re getting it!”

  “Maybe some highlights, I’ll think about it. Anyway, I thought you said you were seeing that guy from Corpus?”

  “Yeah! We’re having our third date tomorrow night. Hey, maybe we could do something together over the weekend when we’re both off? Have a couple of drinks, go dancing? You know, you, me, Jordan and Pete—like a high school double date!” she laughed. “That would be awesome!”

  “Or we could meet for a coffee…”

  “Coffee!” she shrieked. “Are you insane? Don’t we spend enough hours smelling java beans? No, hon, I’m talking about living it up a little: dress up, drink cocktails, you know, have some F.U.N. You got a problem with that all of a sudden?”

  I didn’t know Bev that well, so I wasn’t sure how she’d react, but I decided to risk telling her the truth.

  I stared at her challengingly. “No, I don’t have a problem, but Jordan does.”

  Her face fell. “He got a drinking problem, hon?”

  “Yes and no.” I folded my arms and met her concerned gaze. “He’s on parole. He got out of prison five weeks ago. He can’t drink or go anywhere they sell alcohol, and he’s not allowed to go more than 10 miles beyond the town limits.”

  I watched as her eyes got large and her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “He’s on parole?”

  I nodded, my eyes still trained on her face.

  “Wow. That’s … what did he do?” She paused. “You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s not a secret.” I steeled my nerves. This was the first time I’d spoken to someone who didn’t already know about Jordan. “He killed his brother in a drunk driving accident when he was 16.”

  Bev’s mouth worked at spitting out some words, but her volume control seemed to be broken, because nothing was coming out.

  “Oh my God!” she croaked. “That’s … that’s…”

  “I know. It isn’t easy to get your head around,” I sighed. “He’s been having a really hard time.”

  “How did you meet him? Was it like one of those love stories where you wrote each other while he was in prison, finally get to meet, and sparks fly, angels sing?”

  “Yeah,” I deadpanned. “Nothing like that.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointed.

  I decided to put her out of her misery.

  “My mom has a church over on the shore. He worked for her—handyman stuff, some gardening. That’s how I met him.”

  She smiled. “I prefer my version—star crossed lovers with all the odds stacked against you. Families at war.”

  I snorted with sour amusement. “Oh, Bev, that’s closer to the truth than you think. Mom fired him because we’ve been seeing each other, and he can barely step outside the door without someone from the town mouthing off at him or wanting to start a fight. Some kids slashed all the tires on his truck.”

  I looked down, the reality pressing on me, squeezing the breath out of my body.

  “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry,” Bev said, her warmhearted nature evident. “I didn’t mean to make a joke of it. It can’t be easy for either of you.” She patted my arm. “You must really like him.”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

  “Why?”

  I stared at her as if she was the one who’d lost her mind.

  “Because this will follow him for the rest of his life. And if I’m with him, it means it’ll follow me. I thought I could handle it, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Did something else happen?”

  “Well, kind of…”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Suddenly, it all came pouring out. I really did want to talk to someone—someone who wouldn’t just dive in and tell me what a horrible mistake I was making. I wanted the support of a sympathetic girlfriend.

  “He has to go for mandatory drug and alcohol testing every week at the police station…” I looked at her sideways, gauging her reaction.

  “And?”

  “We went this morning and these asshats were waiting outside for him after. Everyone in town knows him and they all think his brother was some sort of saint. Jordan’s forever getting people talking shit and blaming him for what happened. Not like he needs a reminder. He’s always beating himself up about it without anyone else’s help.”

  “So what happened with the asshats?”

  “They tried to make him fight them.”

  “So he got in a fight?”

  “No, he wouldn’t do it. He’s afraid of getting his parole revoked if he gets in trouble. It was horrible just standing there watching them bait him. But then some police walked by and broke it up.”

  Bev looked at me, puzzled.

  “So you were mad with him because he didn’t get into trouble?”

  “Yes, no … when you put it like that … I just hated that he wouldn’t stand up for himself!”

  She looked at me thoughtfully.

  “I don’t know, hon, sounds to me like he was doing the smart thing. Don’t forget I’ve met him. You can tell just by looking that he’s a guy who knows how to take care of himself; it’s as plain as the nose on your lil’ face. He must be if he survived—however long it was in prison.”

  “I’m being irrational, aren’t I?”

  She smiled at me and patted my arm again. “Love makes you do the crazy, that’s for sure.”

  “Hell, yeah! This is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid. It’s totally messing with my head!”

  “So you do love him, then?”

  Her words brought me up short. Did I? Did I love Jordan? More to the point, could I let myself?

  “I don’t know,” I said, pulling out words like teeth.

  She gave me a skeptical look.

  “I’m not good at relationships, Bev. They have a bad habit of screwing me up. And this morning … it scared the shit out of me. What if the police hadn’t been there? What if they got to him when he was by himself? What if…?”

  “Hey!” she said, softly. “What if a lot of stuff happens? None of us can know how each day is going to end. All I know is that man is head over heels for you. And looking at the way you’re freaking right now, I’d say you’re not far behind. That seems to be as good a place as any to start.”

  I was going to reply, but then we had the distraction of two families and a bunch of teenagers placing orders.

  When the rush finally died down, Bev came and stood next to me.

  “How’s all that thinking going?” she asked.

  “I just want to see him,” I admitted.

  She smiled at me. “Sounds like you got your answer.”

  It was after 1 AM when I drove through the grove of cottonwoods and down the dirt road to Jordan’s house, hoping that I didn’t snap an axle in the potholed road.

  I should have been tired after another 10 hour shift, but I was wide awake, and it had nothing to do with the four espressos that I’d drunk in the last hour. Well, almost nothing.

  The porch light was on and I’d picked up my phone to text him I’d arrived, when the door swung open and he was standing in front of me, a huge smile lighting up his face.

  He was barefoot and bare chested, wearing only a pair of low slung jeans. My heart rate rocketed.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, as he ran lightly from the porch and leaned down to open my door.

  Before I’d fully stepped out, he swooped down to wrap his arms around me, and my hands automatically sought out h
is warm, smooth skin.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered, against my neck.

  “Hi!” I said, happily. “Um, you want me to park my car around the back? I mean, are your parents going to freak when they see it in the morning?”

  He shrugged. “Probably. But I don’t care—unless you do?”

  “No, Jordan. I don’t care,” I stated, clearly.

  He grinned then stood up straight, leaving the top of my head about level with his chin.

  “Are you hungry, sweetheart? Did you get anything to eat?”

  I smiled up at him. “I just want you. Take me to bed, Jordan.”

  He scooped me into his arms as if he was about to carry me across the threshold, and I couldn’t help yelping from surprise.

  He pressed his soft lips to my mouth, and murmured against them.

  “Gonna have to be quiet, my love.”

  “Sorry!” I whispered, trying not to laugh.

  His lips found mine again and the gentle kiss turned urgent, his fingers gripping my arms and legs tightly.

  We were almost through the front door when the hall light switched on and Jordan’s mother stood facing us, an expression of hatred and disgust twisting her face.

  “You’re like a couple of dogs in heat,” she sneered. “It’s sickenin’. How dare you bring that girl into my home! How dare you behave like nothin’ ever happened! You’re evil! Just evil!”

  To say I was stunned would be a massive understatement, but Jordan stared at her coolly as he set me on my feet.

  “I love her. There’s nothin’ sickenin’ about that. I think you’re the one that needs help, Momma.”

  She launched herself at him, clawing at his face, rage igniting her whole body as she flailed against him.

  “You killed my son!” she screamed. “You killed him!”

  Jordan managed to grab her wrists, holding her away from him as she lashed out with her feet. Footsteps thundered down the stairs and Jordan’s father seized hold of his wife’s shoulders, tearing her from his son.

  “Gloria! Stop! Just stop! Jordan is our son, too! He’s our son, too!”

  “He’s a murderer!” she screamed. “I cain’t even look at him! How can you bear it?”

  “Because forgivin’ him is the right thing to do, Gloria!” he cried out. “It’s not right to punish him forever. He’s all we’ve got left.”