A Worthy Man

by Jaime Reese

  Most mornings, he woke from a dreamless state. Well, at least he couldn’t remember what the hell he’d dreamed or if it was in color or black and white. He was thankful. On those nights, he stole a few hours of sleep. But some mornings he woke with the same vivid memory that haunted him, reliving that night over and over like a rabid Groundhog Day.

  He tore the bedsheet off his sweaty body and tossed it aside. He sat up from his spot on the floor and stared at the still-made, full-size bed. After everything that had happened with Drayton, the drive to the new halfway house, meeting the owners, the other residents, going through all the damn rules…it was all too much. He couldn’t handle sleeping in the thick, soft mattress then waking up to find out it had all been a dream. That would have secured him a spot in that special padded cell he’d once stayed in when he had panicked because he couldn’t remember how deep Drayton’s laughter rumbled before it quieted to a sigh.

  He shifted his weight, cursing his numb ass as he tried to stand. He walked over to the window of his room, peeking out into the dark sky and sighed. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the small clock on the dresser. He had plenty of time before breakfast to take a shower and look somewhat presentable.

  He worked his way to the connected bathroom, stretching his arms above his head as a yawn threatened to crack his jaw. He looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. Over the years, he had perfected the grim expression staring back at him, one he had matched with his thick, nearly six-foot frame, hoping his appearance would grant him the precious distance he needed from the other inmates. He had managed to stay out of the prison cliques of sex and black market exchanges. The thought of someone touching him, other than his Dray, roiled his stomach. He shook his head, hoping to erase the thoughts of his time inside.

  He focused on his reflection and a sudden sadness swelled in his chest. He definitely wasn’t that young kid from before. Even though he had lived on the streets for a few months and had been through some hard knocks growing up with dear ol’ dad, he never remembered looking so…mean and uncaring. Sure, some of those bullies who picked on Drayton in school would disagree after the ass kicking he dished out to them, but overall, he tried to focus on the positive. He never understood why someone would look away and ignore a stranger’s genuine smile, a hi, or a wave to break the ice. He hadn’t had many people in his life want to approach him, but he had sworn to himself many years ago that, for anyone who ever did give a chance to the street kid who was rough around the edges, he’d always have a ready smile in exchange. He had never aspired to be the most popular; he was just tired of feeling like the outcast.

  He reached up and ran his fingertip along the scar that started at his temple and cut through his eyebrow. A constant reminder of the night he had almost lost the only person he had ever loved in his life. He curled his hand and looked away from the man staring back at him. He couldn’t remember the last time a smile had come easy to him. He walked away to prepare the shower, hoping to wash away the negativity that had hovered over him for far too many years. He was being given a fresh start. A second chance he never thought he’d have.

  There was no way in hell he was going to waste it by letting his past or the last decade of solitude piss on his future.

  The mumbles of conversation and footsteps up and down the stairs stopped a bit too quickly for a house full of guys. Vann smoothed the bedsheet until it was perfect, flattening out the dip in the bed from where he’d sat to tie his boots. Everything needed to be perfect. There was no way he could survive going back to that hell after a glimpse of freedom—the taste of food with actual flavor, a view of the night sky, being able to walk more than three steps before hitting a wall.

  Seeing Dray.

  He sighed.

  The feel of Drayton in his arms again, hearing his voice, his laugh, and tasting his lips. A flood of memories of their time together filled Vann’s mind. So many things had changed, yet, somehow, had remained the same. The start of a smile twitched his lips. Drayton still had that dimple on his cheek that made a random appearance, and that smile of his still managed to weaken Vann’s knees. The timbre of his voice still had the power to make him lightheaded. The steady power in those gray eyes still read him clearly, as if able to see through the layers of bullshit and hardship down to his soul.

  There was no way he could go back to prison after a teasing glimpse, a taste of so many things he had missed. He had to make this work. He had to be careful of the sinkholes life always seemed to open in his path. He grabbed the door handle and took a deep breath. I can do this. He exhaled a deep breath and turned the knob, finally making his way down the stairs.

  He heard voices coming from the living room. One sounded like Matt; the other, unfamiliar. He slowed his step, hoping to capture as much of the conversation as possible before reaching the kitchen. One thing he had learned his entire life—more so during his time in prison—was to listen, be aware of his surroundings, and always be prepared for a strike.

  “C’mon, Matt. Please?” the voice pleaded.

  “You know I can’t, David. We have the rules in place for a reason, and you can’t decide to leave the house and be out all night without reporting,” Matt said.

  “I can’t go back to prison!”

  “Then you should have thought about that last night and called. It’s why we give you a phone.”

  He slowly took each step down the stairs, finally spotting the two men. The large man stood face-to-face with Matt.

  “You’re sending me back there.” He forced the words through tight lips, staring down the house owner with the same look in his eyes Vann had seen in some of the inmates at the prison. Anger and fear was a deadly combination, and he knew all too well how that dangerous mix ended.

  “No. You did that all by yourself.”

  Vann took the last step at the ground level and turned to face them, no sense disguising an eavesdropping attempt. He took a step in their direction and both men turned toward him. Matt raised a hand to halt him just as a voice boomed from the kitchen. “Shaw. Get in here.”

  Regardless of the arguments in his head yelling at him to step away, he stood his ground and stared at Matt. For some reason, he needed to make sure the conversation hadn’t transitioned into dangerous territory. He was too familiar with the outcome of these confrontations. And for some reason, his instincts planted his two boots on the spot, waiting for Matt to release his hold.

  “It’s fine, Shaw,” Matt said, almost as if recognizing his inner battle.

  Vann nodded and turned toward the kitchen, spotting Julian leaning against the arched entryway with crossed arms and an odd expression on his face. He pushed off the wall and entered the kitchen when Vann approached, pointing to an empty chair at the table in the open space.

  “Am I late?”

  “No. You’re on time but everyone bailed the moment Matt lost his shit. It doesn’t happen often, and I think it freaked everyone out.”

  He pulled out the chair and obediently sat, trying to silence the scrape of the chair on the floor. The wooden table sat eight, but he spotted two other chairs off to the side in each corner. The room connected with a large, open kitchen to create an even bigger area with the only divider a half wall of cabinets and shelves to the left. He chose the chair that granted him a slight view into the living room through the arched entry, needing to know how the conversation ended between the two men.

  “Scrambled eggs and orange juice fine?” Julian asked.

  Vann nodded. Anything that smelled that good was more than fine. He peeked to the left into the other room, unable to tear his focus away from the conversation in the living room. David now sat with his head in his hands as Matt took a seat next to him and patted his back.

  “Learn from his mistake,” Julian said, placing the breakfast items in front of him. He slid a phone across the table. “We give you a phone. It’s basic because we can’t give you internet access on it or a camera. But you call or text us to check in. You ca
n’t fuck up or you go back. Those are the rules.”

  Vann glanced up at the looming figure, that same expression from a few seconds before now colored his expression.

  “Thanks,” Julian said, his words barely audible. “For wanting to make sure Matt had things under control.”

  Vann nodded once and focused on his plate full of food. He scooped a forkful of eggs. “So, that guy, he’s going back to prison because he didn’t call?” he asked in a hushed tone, hoping his voice didn’t carry over to the next room.

  Julian nodded and pulled out the chair opposite Vann’s place at the table. “David had two weeks left here. He did five months just fine and fucked up at the end.” He rubbed his shaved head and blew out a heavy breath. “We’re not a hotel. We try to make this feel as much of a home as possible to make your transition easy, but you can’t ever forget you’re on parole and a slipup will cost you your freedom.”

  Vann chewed his breakfast slowly, digesting every tiny flavorful bite of food and every spoken word.

  “Matt’s the nice guy, and he sugarcoats shit better than I do. Don’t slip or you go back. That’s as basic as it gets. Curfew is at nine. We need to be aware of where you are at all times. The rules are strict early on and lessen with your time here once you’ve accomplished a few milestones. You start with a strict regimen of a work schedule and that’s it. If you don’t have a job, then you’re here. Period. Anyone you want to see must be authorized and they come here. You can’t go to anyone’s house until you qualify for a weekend furlough. You apply, and if you’ve met the program requirements and they’ve cleared the criteria, we grant you the pass. The rules are a pain in the ass and might seem suffocating in the beginning, but it gets better with time and they’re in place to help you with the transition. Our role here is to help you work your way back into everyday life. But you need to make an effort as well. Did you have any questions about the rules from the book we gave you last night?”

  Vann shook his head, finishing off the last of the food and biting into the slice of toast.

  “So, how was your first night’s sleep in the bed?” Julian asked.

  “I…uh, slept on the floor.” Vann slowed his chewing of the breakfast toast when two uniformed police officers entered the house and walked over to David, still sitting in his spot on the living room couch. One officer grabbed him by the arm, cuffed him, and escorted him out while the other officer spoke to Matt.

  “Why?”

  Vann took a few gulps of the orange juice and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, returning his focus to Julian. “I’ll sleep in it tonight.” He quickly glanced up then away, trying to avoid Julian’s intense stare. “I promise.”

  “You’re not going back in. You know that. Right? You can sleep in the bed and get used to it.”

  His focus snapped to Julian’s gaze. How the hell did this guy know that was the thought running through his mind? “How do you know that?”

  Julian leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Because you aren’t going to let that happen. You aren’t going to fuck up, and you’ve got a bunch of people in your corner to make sure you don’t go back in as long as you stay on the path.”

  “I think fucking up is part of my DNA. I’ve been fighting it my whole life.”

  “And how many people did you have in your corner helping you in that fight?”

  Vann swallowed the last of the juice. Damn, everything he tasted actually had flavor and every item tasted differently. In prison, it generally looked like mush in varying colors of a rotting rainbow.

  “How many, Shaw?”

  He backtracked in his mind, remembering the question. “Just Dray.”

  Julian leaned forward, crossing his arms and resting them on the table. “This time around, you’ve got a full team of support, both in and out of this house. A lot of people worked together to get you here. When you need something, just say the word.”

  “Okay,” he said, not really sure what else to say. He’d never had an army of support cheering him on. “Sam mentioned Jessie Vega and Detective Aidan Calloway were the guys who got the ball rolling on getting me out of there.”

  Julian nodded. “To make a long story short, Jessie researched your jacket and found your link to another case he and Aidan were working on. Seems Drayton’s mother, Senator Delereux, had pulled every string possible to keep you inside. Her influence ended with her arrest and Drayton brought in a team of defense lawyers.” Julian rubbed his shaved head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything in the system move as quickly as that team did to get you here.”

  Vann fidgeted with the fork in his hand. “I’d…like to meet them.” He glanced up and looked away again, spinning the fork in his hand. “To thank them.”

  “We can invite them for a lunch thing this weekend. Aidan never says no to food so it’ll be an easy sell.” Julian tapped the table, drawing his attention. “Jessie said you could have served far less time with a different charge and—”

  “I killed a man. Regardless of the circumstance, I ended a life.”

  Julian leaned forward on the table. “The circumstances are important. One thing I’ve learned here is that things aren’t always as they seem. So I don’t base my judgment on what’s on paper. Yes, you killed a man that day but you also saved a life. Don’t argue with me.”

  “Is that one of the house rules?”

  Julian scoffed. “For fuck’s sake. I can already tell you’re going to stress me the hell out.” He stood from the table when Matt entered the room.

  Matt’s face pinched, obviously upset about what had happened in the living room. He reached out and ran his hand down Julian’s arm then sat in the chair Julian had just vacated. “Sorry you had to see that.”

  Vann shrugged. “He screwed up. Shit happens.”

  Julian snatched his empty plate and glass and set them in the sink, shaking his head as he walked away.

  “How about we start with trying to find you a job,” Matt said, drawing his focus. “Let’s talk about your skills to see where there’s a fit within our employment program.”

  Vann chewed on his lower lip and crossed his arms. Skills? Shit. He could pace within a small space. He could bench a shit-ton of weight, but he doubted those skills merited a job. Serving a life sentence in a place filled with lifers definitely didn’t perk up interest in many skill development workshops and programs.

  Matt thumbed through a list of what appeared to be company names and job titles. “Do you have computer skills?”

  Vann shook his head.

  Matt crossed off a few items from the pages, thumbing through the other sheets.

  Vann crossed his arms, trying to battle the defeat that began to stir inside. “Um, I…did some light mechanic work at an auto shop before I went in.” He sighed, feeling a sudden burden weighing down his shoulders. Who the hell was he kidding? “I guess…engines and stuff have changed since then,” he quietly added. He lowered his head to hide his face.

  “Shaw?” Julian said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You were on your own and barely twenty-one when you went inside. We’re not looking to beat you over the head and make you feel like shit. We’re trying to find a place to help ease you back into a routine. Okay?” Julian firmly held his stare.

  Full team of support. Right. Vann cleared his throat, trying to push the rock that seemed to now be lodged in the way. “I’ll work hard at whatever you have me do. I’m a quick learner. I just…need someone who’ll take the time to explain it to me once. And I won’t be picky about what you have me do. I don’t care as long as it’s an honest day’s work.”

  A hint of a smile softened Julian’s expression.

  Matt crossed out a few more items on the sheets and lowered his brow. “Well, we’re a little limited for a few reasons. We have a lot of employers with openings for data entry and customer service, but that requires you to have a certain level of computer proficiency you don’t have at the moment. I can’t place
you in any of the retail positions because of your first arrest at the grocery store.”

  “What does one have to do with the other?” Vann asked.

  Matt’s features softened. “With the theft charge, they won’t allow you to be on the cash register.”

  “Oh,” Vann mumbled. Damn petty theft misdemeanor would haunt him for the rest of his life. He hadn’t actually walked out of the grocery story with the loaf of bread, but that didn’t seem to matter.

  “We’re always adding employers, plus we’ve partnered with a few vocational schools and certification programs. We can look at those if you’d like while you stay here to build up your skills. You’re here for only a few months, but you can certainly start on a track and continue after you leave the house. How do you feel about working at a diner?”

  Vann nodded. He needed a drink of whatever punch Matt had sipped after his little meeting in the living room. His positivity was like a spotlight in the darkness. “I’m game for whatever you think would work.”

  Matt smiled and glanced up at Julian standing behind him. “I’m thinking of Bill and Lucy. Cam’s over there, and I think that would help.” He returned his attention to Vann after Julian nodded in agreement. “It’s a small diner…sandwiches, coffee, desserts. Bill and Lucy are the owners and Cameron is the barista there. He was our first house guest, so I think it might help to have him with you.”

  “What’s a barista?”

  “Means he’s the coffee guy,” Julian clarified.

  “So why not just call him the coffee guy?”

  Julian sighed and mumbled something that sounded like a curse before walking out of the kitchen.

  “Don’t mind him. His patience is running a bit thin today. He’s upset about David,” Matt said.

  “So are you. You’re just better at hiding it.”

  “And you’re good at reading people.”