Lifers

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  She’d been kind of annoying then. Now, she was something else. For one thing, I didn’t think that the bikini she wore could strictly speaking be called a swimsuit. It was more like a piece of string with some material attached. The minute I sat down again, she started rubbing sun lotion on her legs and chest. It was like watching the prelude to a bad porn film. I saw Buddy cringe and Susan just rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, I can’t reach my back,” she giggled. “Jordan, you’re nearest—would you help me, sugar?”

  When I was 16, I’d just brush her off. Now, I needed the cavalry.

  “Oh, gee,” simpered Torrey, catching my pleading look, “let me help you with that, Rachel.”

  And she squirted some of the lotion onto her hand and slapped it roughly onto Rachel’s back.

  I guess Rachel wasn’t completely dumb, because she got Torrey’s message loud and clear after that. I still didn’t feel relaxed like when it was just Bev and Pete, but it wasn’t so bad either.

  “So,” said Johnny, after a few minutes. “When did you get out?”

  All the conversation died away and every eye turned to me.

  God, I hated that.

  “What?” he said. “I’m just askin’ what everyone is thinkin’!”

  “Four months ago,” I answered, evenly. “What about you? Done anythin’ interestin’ since 2006?”

  He coughed out a laugh.

  “Funny guy! Waal, ya know: school, college, workin’ in Corpus. Been datin’ Jennifer for a year an’ a half now. We’re thinkin’ of takin’ the next step.”

  “Gettin’ hitched?” I suggested.

  “Hell, no!” he laughed, missing his girlfriend’s angry little pout. “Puttin’ a deposit on a place outside of the city. Gettin’ into real estate, ya know how it is.”

  Guy was a jackass.

  “Not really. Until recently, my ‘real estate’ was eight by ten feet.”

  Torrey snorted and Bev covered up a laugh. Even Buddy cracked a smile at that one.

  “You workin’, Jordan?” he asked.

  “Some. Got a job at the local junkyard crushin’ cars.”

  “And he’s doing custom-made artwork on cars and trucks,” Torrey added. “He did the Celtic cross and bleeding heart on the side of his truck that you were looking at earlier.”

  “That’s some pretty neat work,” said Susan. “You could make a lot of money doing that, Jordan.”

  I gave a short laugh.

  “Not around here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because most folk don’t want an ex-con workin’ on their vehicles.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “I understand that. I know what prejudice can be like.”

  “It’s different for you,” I said, quietly.

  She immediately bristled. “How so?”

  “You know you haven’t done anythin’ to deserve it.”

  There was another uncomfortable silence. They seemed to be stacking up to quite a number.

  “Remember when you painted that amazin’ mural along the corridor at school?” said Rachel, suddenly. “It was of the sun risin’ over the ocean. It was so beautiful—always made me feel kind of peaceful.”

  “Oh, yeah! I remember that,” said Johnny. “It was cool.”

  Torrey turned to me. “You did that?”

  I nodded.

  “I’d love to see it.”

  For about the millionth time, there was an awkward pause.

  “Um, they painted over it after…” said Rachel, staring at the sand. “I, um, might have a photograph of it … somewhere.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up and walked away.

  “What’s his problem?” I heard Johnny ask.

  “Maybe not all his memories of high school are good ones,” Susan replied.

  I gave myself a time-out by going for a long swim. This time Torrey didn’t join me. She knew when I was overwhelmed and needed some space.

  I swam until my arms felt like lead but my mind was calmer.

  Someone had gathered driftwood to make a campfire, and Bev and Susan were roasting marshmallows.

  I plopped down onto the blanket next to Torrey.

  “Okay?” she mouthed.

  I nodded and gave her a small smile.

  She passed me a marshmallow on a stick. I hadn’t had one of these since I was a little kid. Sometimes it was a punch in the gut, thinking how much I’d missed out on. A third of my life I’d been locked up. I’d never get those years back.

  “So,” she said, “your buddies have been filling me in. I’ve been hearing about some of the things the Kane brothers got up to in high school. I cannot believe you both banged someone named Cindy O’Hara in the back of your truck.”

  “Not at the same time!” I defended.

  She laughed. “No?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “And the Miller sisters,” added Rachel.

  “What?”

  “That’s what I heard,” she shrugged.

  “No way!” I spluttered. “Um, I may have had a thing with Kelsey, but I never … not with Audrey.” Although I was pretty wasted at the time…

  “That’s not what Aud said,” Rachel insisted, a determined glint in her eye as she slurred her words. “And she was pretty damn specific about some … details.”

  My head was totally spun by this conversation, hearing names from the past. It felt like they were talking about a completely different person. Hell, I knew I wasn’t that kid anymore.

  Torrey took pity on me, and swung the conversation in another direction.

  I began to relax once the focus was off of me. But it didn’t last.

  “You still play football?” Johnny asked, obviously bored with a conversation that the girls were having, comparing chick flick movies.

  “Um, no!”

  Jeez, this guy was dumber than dirt.

  “I just wondered. ‘Cause after you … left, Benson Smith took your place on the team.”

  Jeez, they gave my place to that loser?

  Johnny laughed at the expression on my face.

  “Yeah! It was a disaster! No chance of going State that year. Hell, they used to get nearly 3,000 people at the home games. Mikey was a freakin’ legend. That hasn’t happened in a while. Now they’re lucky if they get 500 or 600 attendances.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were on the football team, too,” Torrey said, questioningly.

  “That’s because I wasn’t. I was supposed to start as a wide receiver in my junior year, but…”

  I shrugged. I didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  Jennifer tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “You don’t look like a dangerous felon,” she announced, “you’re too cute. You look more like a model, an underwear model.”

  Bev choked on her beer, and Susan shook her head in disbelief.

  Torrey murmured her reply just loud enough for me to hear. “Yeah! And who’d have thought she’s as dumb as she looks.”

  I grinned at her, and she puckered her lips at me.

  I leaned down, resting my hand on her thigh, and whispered in her ear. “You sure earned this kiss, sweetheart.”

  I took my time, even though it was likely that everyone was watching us. Fuck ‘em. I was kissing my girl.

  I only stopped when I realized that a situation was arising.

  Torrey knew exactly why I pulled back, because she muttered, “Hold that thought, cowboy.”

  No one bothered me with more questions after that, and I didn’t know if that was because they’d lost interest in me or because Torrey had said something to them while I’d been swimming. Whichever way it was, I relaxed into the evening, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of being peaceful with a group of people.

  As the last of the light faded from the sky, the conversation quieted and the group split into couples.

  Soon, the old high school crowd was saying their goodbyes. Johnny invited us to meet them for drinks at a bar later. Torrey declined on my beh
alf, omitting to mention my parole restrictions, instead stating that she was too tired. Johnny sure was dumb, but he didn’t seem to mind hanging out with me either. I couldn’t imagine that we’d ever be buddies, but it had been okay seeing him and his friends.

  I missed Mikey even more now that I was out of prison. I kept thinking about all the things we should be doing together—bonfires at the beach like this one, shooting the shit, hanging out. The space where he should have been left a constant dull ache. And at my parents’ house, having his stuff still laid out in his room, it felt like he could walk back in any second. I sometimes felt if I called him, he’d yell from the backyard or the garage. But I also thought maybe he wouldn’t have wanted me to just rot away either.

  I felt Torrey’s warm hand in mine, and her eyes crinkled softly as she smiled at me.

  “Did you have fun?”

  I wasn’t there yet, but yeah, life was getting good.

  Jordan

  It was a Friday, and Torrey had been doing the early shift at work all week. She really hated those days. Getting that woman’s ass out of bed at 5 AM to be at work by seven wasn’t easy. Even though I got up with her to make breakfast, she was as ornery as a mule with a toothache.

  On the plus side, it meant we got to have the whole evening to spend together. Tonight we were meeting up with Bev and Pete to eat hotdogs, and see some movie at the mall that the girls had been raving about. I didn’t care what we saw. The last time I’d been to a movie theater Casino Royale had been playing, and the girls at high school were arguing about whether Bond could be blond. I mean, really?

  For pretty much the first time since my release, I had money in my pocket to take my woman out. It may not seem like much, but when it came to feeling like a man, like a regular guy, it was really fucking important.

  I’d just gotten home from the junkyard and taken a quick shower when Torrey came crashing into the house. She was like a force of nature, and there was never any doubt which room in the house she was in: doors would get slammed, the TV and radio would be blaring—often at the same time. Happy noise just followed her everywhere and I loved it.

  Girl was a screamer, too. I’d tried every which ways to get her to pipe down just out of a sense of decency, because it couldn’t have been great for Dad to hear that every night. But short of sticking my dick in her mouth—which I have to be honest, I really liked doing—nothing worked.

  Dad even made a joke about it once, saying that he hoped we never lived in an apartment with thin walls, otherwise the police would be around every night.

  Yeah. That’s not a conversation you want to have with your dad, like ever.

  “Hey, handsome!” she yelled, as she barreled into the house. “Get your pants on and get your cute ass down here! We’ve got some celebrating to do, and not just when you’ve got me naked in your bed!” Then she went quiet for a moment. “Oh, hi Paul,” I heard her say to Dad, sounding only a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know you were home. Did you have a good day?”

  I took the stairs two at a time and scooped her into my arms, kissing her soundly. Dad just raised his eyebrows and headed for the kitchen where I could hear him turning on the coffee maker.

  I didn’t care about showing how much I was in love; I didn’t care about showing it in front of anyone. For all I cared, the whole world could know that Torrey was my girl. She was a bit more tentative about it, but here she felt at home. I was happy about that.

  “What’s this good news you’re hollerin’ about, sweetheart?”

  She waved an envelope in my face and jumped up, wrapping her legs around my waist.

  “Finally! I got the deposit back on my apartment in Boston, and Dad sent me a check for $1,000 to ‘tide me over’!”

  “Yeah? That’s great. Did he write you, too?”

  “Ha, well! I wouldn’t call it a letter, but it was communication with writing. He said he and Ginger had a great honeymoon and that I should stop by and see them sometime. As if!”

  “Maybe you should,” I said, seriously. “Trust me when I say life is short and you never know if the next time you say goodbye is the last time. You don’t want to live with regrets, sweetheart.”

  Her face twisted and she pulled her arms tighter around me.

  “Oh, God. You’re right. I know you’re right. But if I have to spend time with Ginger and her surgically enhanced tits, you are coming with me.”

  Dad grinned as he walked from the kitchen to the family room carrying his coffee. He closed the door firmly behind him, obviously deciding that any conversation that included discussion of another woman’s tits was one he’d duck out of. Couldn’t say I blamed him. No guy was going to come out of that unscathed.

  “You want me to meet your dad?” I questioned. “He’s a lawyer. He’s not gonna have me arrested, is he?”

  I was joking. Sort of.

  She rolled her eyes. “Hell no! He’ll be so damn grateful that you’re willing to ‘take me off his hands’,” she used air quotes to emphasize the sarcasm, “he’ll probably put an arm around you and show you his golfing trophies.” She twirled some hair around her finger. “He does that. It’s a guy thing.”

  “I’ll go anywhere with you, sweetheart, you know that. I still cain’t imagine he’s gonna be thrilled to see you with an ex-con who barely finished high school. But if you want to go see your old man, I’d love to be with you.”

  She smiled happily, and ran her hands under my t-shirt then dragged her nails down my back. Fuck, she knew that made me hard.

  “Anyway,” she said, pulling away and leaving me wanting, “I need to go deposit this into the bank before it closes at 5 PM, so we have to hurry. You ready?”

  “I was born ready, sweetheart.”

  “Ugh! That’s such a guy thing to say.”

  “True, though.”

  She slapped my shoulder and shouted out to Dad. “See you later, Paul!”

  “Bye, darlin’. Have a good time now, y’hear! Bye, son.”

  “Later, Dad.”

  We took Torrey’s car because the bed of my truck was still full of colored metal paints that Hulk had let me take from the junkyard.

  We made it to the bank with just a few minutes to spare.

  “Yay!” she cried happily, after depositing the check into her account. “We can have some fun spending that!”

  I shook my head. “No, sweetheart. That’s for you from your dad. I wouldn’t feel right touchin’ any of it.”

  She cocked her head to one side and gave me her cutest smile.

  “Aw, baby, you’re so freakin’ sensible. We deserve to have some fun, too!” And the vixen pressed against me, discreetly running her hand over my zipper.

  “Christ, sweetheart!” I mumbled into her neck. “You don’t play fair!”

  She gave a throaty laugh and stroked me again.

  She said something else, but suddenly I was on high alert, my attention ripped away from her.

  I don’t know if it was some sixth sense, or just lessons learned from my years in prison, but I knew that I was being watched.

  Torrey

  Wow! My deposit returned and $1,000 from my dad. When I’d gone to Mom’s place to pick up my mail, I hadn’t been expecting anything that good. True, I had been hoping for $2K from Dad, but maybe he was saving for his future alimony. Still, better than a poke in the eye.

  I definitely had plans for how Jordan and I could spend some of the money. I had in mind a big celebration when his parole was through in four weeks time: dinner in a fancy restaurant, dancing, a club—all the things he’d told me he wanted to do—but he was being stubborn. You know, doing that macho thing where he was refusing to touch any money that belonged to me. It was cute, especially bearing in mind some of the losers I’d hooked up with who wouldn’t even spring to buy me a beer. Cute, but annoying as hell, because I wanted to celebrate the end of his parole. It was a huge deal, but Jordan seemed to want to forget about it; I thought we needed to mark it as his fresh start
.

  I decided he needed some persuading, and it hadn’t taken me long to realize that the best way to persuade him was via his dick. He was the sweetest person, but he was such a guy!

  “Aw, baby, we deserve to have some fun, too!” I said, pressing against him and rubbing the front of his jeans. “But ya know what, we could use the rest to put a deposit down on getting our own place, just you and me. What do you think?”

  I knew from experience that by now he would be aching to go somewhere we could have privacy and let his snake loose in my lady garden.

  But then I felt him tense up, not in a good way, and he didn’t respond to my come-on. I realized pretty quickly that I didn’t have his undivided attention because he pushed my hands away and stood in front of me protectively.

  “Jordan fuckin’ Kane,” said a slurred voice.

  Four men in their late twenties were standing in a half circle around us. My heart started racing frantically and I gripped onto Jordan’s arm, peeking around his shoulder.

  “Hello, Ryan,” Jordan said, quietly.

  I swallowed a gasp. I knew that name. Jordan had mentioned it often enough during the last couple of months. Ryan Dupont had been Mikey’s best friend. The three of them had hung out together, and it had been at Ryan’s party where Jordan had gotten drunk that night—the night where his old life ended, the night he’d killed his brother.

  I didn’t know who the other guys were and I’m not sure Jordan did either, but tension radiated from him, and his body was rigid.

  I glanced around desperately, but no one was coming to our aid. Not this time.

  My mouth had gone dry and I tried to swallow but I couldn’t even work up enough saliva to spit.

  “Why the fuck did you have to come back?” snarled Ryan. “Isn’t it enough that you killed my best goddamn friend? You have to come back here and rub our noses in it?”

  Jordan spoke calmly and reasonably, but his muscles were bunched under his t-shirt, and his voice was tight.

  “I’m on parole, Ryan. I have to stay in the area.”