A Worthy Man

by Jaime Reese

  “I need you to run an errand for me. We had a busier morning than expected with that event going on down the street and it threw off our daily order.” Bill walked over to the register and counted off one hundred dollars in random bills, jotted down a few lines in the notebook he always kept by the register, then tore off the sheet and handed it to Vann. “There’s a grocery store two blocks down. I need these items.”

  He took the piece of paper and read over the list as he stuffed the money in his back pocket. He asked about two of the scrawls he couldn’t decipher then nodded with the clarification.

  He walked out through the back door, squinting when the harsh afternoon sun burned his eyes. He reached for his cell phone, pulled it out of his back pocket, and dialed Matt’s number. Best to confirm leaving the premises was still acceptable under the terms. He had a handle on most of the rules, at least those that affected his day-to-day and his time with Drayton, but decided not to guess where his freedom was concerned.

  After speaking with Matt, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and headed down the block to the small grocery store. Yelling from the block over drew his attention, but not enough to distract him from his task. He had a job to do, and dammit, he was going to do it perfectly.

  Sirens echoed in the distance and the yelling grew louder. He looked over his shoulder and listened. He shrugged it off when he couldn’t distinguish the ruckus and hurried along the street. He walked into the small family-owned bodega, triggering the little bell over the door to announce his entrance. The storeowner made eye contact and something flashed in his eyes a moment before he straightened.

  Vann knew that look all too well and hesitated before trying to soften his appearance with a small smile. Maybe he was being paranoid or just hypersensitive since his release. He shrugged it off and looked to each side but didn’t spot a shopping basket. He shoved his hand in his front pocket to withdraw the shopping list and turned to his left, making his way down the aisle for what he needed. He double-checked the list for any mention of brand names as he grabbed the different items and held them in his arms. At this rate, he’d probably have to set the items on the counter to finish off the list. Why the hell didn’t this place have those handheld baskets to make things—

  “Freeze! Put your hands in the air.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw a uniformed officer aiming a gun at him.

  What the hell?

  “Slowly put the things down and keep your hands where I can see them!”

  “I didn’t do anything.” His heart slammed in his chest, begging for escape as he slowly crouched and set the items in his arms down on the ground, careful with the bottle of oil to avoid it toppling over and breaking. He slowly straightened with his palms facing the officer, knowing any quick movement wouldn’t play in his favor.

  “Put your hands up!”

  “They are—”

  “Turn around!”

  He turned to face the wall and tried to steady his breathing. His arms were yanked awkwardly down and pulled behind his back with enough force to make him flinch. A loud zip of plastic sounded seconds before his wrists were tightly bound. “Whatever it is…I didn’t do it,” he whispered in the calmest tone he could muster through the intense panic rising in his body.

  “Be quiet and don’t move!”

  The radio squawked. “I have him in custody,” the officer said.

  “I didn’t do it.”

  A steady, firm arm across his upper back jerked him forward, forcing his face to press against the wall. “Be. Quiet.”

  His heart raced. Distant sirens wailed and neared. New voices echoed around him. I didn’t do it. He screwed his eyes shut as the sounds muffled around him. His ears rang with a high-pitched noise that pierced his brain. His breathing sped as he forced each breath in and out of his lungs past the iron weight bearing down on his chest. I can’t go back there. His senses began to dull, rendering him defenseless against the memory that came barreling in.

  An eighteen-year-old Vann quietly walked into the small bodega and scanned his surroundings, spotting the owner chatting with a customer by the microwave. He hunched his shoulders and walked down the farthest aisle, hoping to remain unnoticed.

  He looked at the different chips and crackers as he patted his stomach, hoping to quiet the grumble. His father had kicked him out of the house on his eighteenth birthday once the government assistance had reached its benchmark limit. Without family and even fewer options, he’d been living on the streets for a few weeks, barely scraping by. A few odd jobs he had managed to get helped, but the opportunities were rare and had quickly dried up once he started looking a little scruffier and his clothes a little more worn.

  He did his best to hide his situation, but Dray was too damn smart and figured something wasn’t right. He’d been spared the worried expression on a daily basis because of Dray’s schedule, but it was inevitable that the day would come when Drayton would wonder why he wore the same clothes several days in a row.

  He looked to each side then reached for the loaf of bread, his mouth watering at the thought of biting into a fresh, soft slice. He slipped the loaf of bread into his jacket and slowly walked down the aisle. A loaf of bread could hold him over for a full week, maybe longer if he rationed it out just right.

  His steps slowed until he finally stopped and sighed. “Dammit,” he mumbled. He was desperate to quiet the pain of hunger twisting his stomach, but stealing was wrong.

  Resigned, he walked back down the aisle to return the loaf to the shelf. He pulled the bread out of his jacket just as the bodega owner yelled at him. “Stop! I’ve already called the cops. Stay right there!”

  He turned and froze. His eyes rounded and his heart thundered in his chest as he stared down the barrel of a shotgun aimed at him.

  “Shaw? Shaw?”

  He blinked a few times, his vision sharpening to the present and the plastered wall in front of him.

  “Cut him loose, now,” a firm, familiar voice said, pulling him from his memory.

  Seconds? Minutes? Who the hell knew how much time had passed? His arms were numbing out and his biceps ached. He stole a glance to his side, spotting a very pissed off detective staring down the very nervous uniformed officer who had cuffed him. Cuffed, zip-tied, same shit. It hurt like hell and his arms were tingling from the lack of circulation.

  “He’s my collar, Calloway,” the uniformed officer said.

  Aidan Calloway turned to face the officer and looked at him with a hazel stare that would have freaked Vann the hell out if he weren’t already half petrified about being busted for something he hadn’t done. Aidan pulled a knife out of his boot and tugged on Vann’s hands, cutting through the zip tie and releasing him. He refolded the knife and tucked it in his back pocket, revealing his detective badge clipped on the waistband of his slacks.

  “He’s mine, Calloway!”

  The detective rounded on him again. “We caught the perp two blocks down, knucklehead. Now walk the fuck away.”

  The man must have seen something cross Aidan’s expression that left little room for discussion. He quickly turned and walked away, grumbling a stream of curses. The detective turned to face him, his hazel stare burning a hole in Vann’s brain. “Shaw, say something.”

  Vann stared, worried a single wrong syllable would return him to that living hell again. I can’t go back there.

  Calloway frowned. “Matt called me when Drayton went by the diner and you weren’t there.”

  Drayton? What? Why was Drayton at the diner? He lowered his head, unable to think with those hazel eyes on him. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to focus on steadying his breathing. He’d been cut loose. They had arrested someone a few blocks down… Was he free to go? Or was this some twisted, messed-up “gotcha!” moment? His breathing sped up again, and his head pounded. He couldn’t go back there. He wouldn’t survive that hell after a taste of freedom, after knowing what it felt like to lazily sit on a porch, to sleep in a real bed,
and take a long, hot shower. He couldn’t go back to that hell after seeing and touching Drayton again.

  His body swayed with each quick inhale and pushed exhale. His arms hung loosely at his sides as they still tingled with the returning flow of circulation.

  I can’t go back there.

  A series of memories flickered in his mind. The dark cell, the thin slip of a mattress, the metal toilet in the corner of his cell close enough to his sleeping area he could stretch his arm out and touch the rim.

  I can’t go back there.

  The fights in the yard between the different cliques wanting control of the flow of contraband. The random inmates he’d had to fight off during some surprise attack because he refused to join them, to join anyone or their minions in their stupid quest to be the King of Hell.

  I can’t go back there.

  The tasteless food that looked like the slush that collected after an afternoon rain soaked through the dirt. The harsh words they’d yell at his face and the spittle that often traveled with them in his direction.

  I can’t go back there.

  ∞ ♥ ∞

  Drayton stood in the midst of curious onlookers, trying to steal a glance at the small grocery store on the busy block. This was definitely not how he had planned the surprise lunchtime visit. He had finished his business meeting in the government building across from the diner and thought it would be nice to surprise Vann at work. After waiting ten minutes and not getting a text reply, that fucking prickling feeling behind his neck started up again and he knew something wasn’t right.

  Several police cars had arrived and officers had set up a barricade to control the growing lunchtime crowd. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes…he wasn’t sure how much time had dragged along but he had patiently waited long enough. He locked his worry behind the mask of a firm stare and rigid posture he often used during a business transaction and pushed his way to the front of the barricade.

  “Tell Detective Aidan Calloway, Drayton needs to see him.”

  The uniformed officer standing guard lowered his brow. “You know Calloway?”

  He curtly nodded.

  The officer pursed his lips as he assessed him. He reached for the radio clipped on his shoulder and stepped away. He returned to the line a few seconds later and let Drayton through then began dispersing the crowd. He pointed to another officer standing by the door of the store. “Go see him.”

  In a few steps, Drayton reached the man standing guard and was led inside. “We’re clearing out. Calloway’s at the end of the third aisle.”

  He nodded and strode into the store, passing officers on their way out. The small grocery store aisles were cluttered with local brand items and handwritten signs. He walked by each row until he spotted Aidan at the aisle endcap, his focus was off to the side, toward the corner, his lips moving as if talking to someone.

  Vann.

  Drayton’s step quickened until he reached them.

  “Get through to him. He’s in la-la land,” Aidan said with a lowered brow before stepping away.

  Vann silently stood with his arms loosely hanging at his sides.

  A twisting grip tightened around Drayton’s stomach at the vacant expression in Vann’s eyes. He cupped Vann’s face in his hands. “Vann, look at me.” He stroked his thumb along Vann’s cheek as he spoke. “Please.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Vann said in a whisper.

  When he finally made eye contact, the pain staring back at him in those amber eyes sucked the air out of Drayton’s lungs.

  “I know.” He pulled Vann into an embrace and wrapped his arms protectively around him.

  Vann pushed his face into the side of Drayton’s hair, the warm puffs of air brushing against his ear. “I can’t go back there, Dray. I won’t make it. I know I won’t.”

  “You’re not going back. They stopped you by mistake. They caught the guy down the street.” Drayton closed his eyes and released a deep breath when strong arms wrapped around him.

  “I didn’t want to say anything. I was worried I’d say something wrong.”

  Drayton pressed a desperate, hard kiss to Vann’s temple and tightened his hold, thankful to have Vann in his arms. He looked over his shoulder and frowned when he spotted Julian walking toward them. He slowly loosened his hold on Vann as he tried to decipher the odd expression on Julian’s face.

  A million thoughts spun in his head at once, mentally skimming through every possible rule and checking it against cause and effect situations and what-if scenarios. Suddenly, a weight bore down on his chest, twisting his gut. Shit. He was well versed enough on the halfway house rules to know what was coming. He closed his eyes for a moment, bracing himself.

  “C’mon, Shaw. I’m taking you back to the house,” Julian said.

  “The house?” Vann stepped out of the embrace and glanced at each of the worried faces before he spoke. “I have to go back to work.”

  Julian’s lips thinned to a narrow line.

  “Shit! Bill needs me to get him a list of stuff for the lunch crowd. I can probably still make it if—”

  “You’re not going back to the diner.”

  “But Bill needs—”

  Julian placed his hand on Vann’s shoulder. “Shaw, you’re not going back to the diner. Your job there’s over. You’re coming back to the house with me.”

  “But…Bill’s waiting for me. He asked me to do something for him.” Vann quieted and looked to the floor.

  “I already talked to Bill. He knows you’re not going back to the diner.”

  Vann’s jaw twitched. “I didn’t do this. I didn’t screw this up. I swear I didn’t.”

  Julian sighed and squeezed Vann’s shoulder before releasing his hold. “I know. Unfortunately, this incident happened while you were working. And there’s nothing I can do about that.”

  “Incident?” Vann looked to Aidan then back to Julian. “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter.” Julian sighed. “The authorities are involved so it’s a recorded incident and violates one of the conditions of the work program, so we can’t ignore it.”

  Vann started to say something then quieted, focusing again on a spot on the floor.

  They quieted when Aidan’s cell phone rang. “I’ve got to go. If you need me, just call.” He gave Julian a quick nod before leaving them.

  Drayton slid his hand into Vann’s. Vann was so focused on the worry of the arrest and returning to prison and how he had disappointed Bill that it probably hadn’t clicked in his mind yet how this actually affected him…them. “We should get out of here.” Drayton glanced at Julian, hoping to send him a telepathic signal. Now, he slowly mouthed.

  Julian subtly nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They had just walked through the doorway of the grocery store and out to the parking lot when Vann pulled on Drayton’s hand, halting their trek. “Wait a minute.” He looked to Drayton, the realization had obviously hit him. “Did we lose our weekend?” His focus snapped to Julian. “Did I mess up the weekend pass?”

  Sadness welled in Drayton’s chest at the pain in Vann’s expression. “You didn’t mess anything up.”

  Vann’s focus shifted back to Drayton, then returned to Julian again. “I did, didn’t I? I screwed this up?”

  Julian stepped forward, his usual intimidating presence softening to the caregiver version of the house owner. “I’m not going to lie to you.” He rubbed his shaved head and muffled a curse. “This is the part of the job I hate.”

  Vann’s chest heaved with each breath, waiting for Julian to speak again.

  “You need fifteen consecutive days of full-time work without incident to qualify for the pass.”

  Vann reached up and dug his fingers in his own hair, gripping the strands with such force Drayton was certain he’d yank his hair out. “But…I didn’t do this.”

  “I know,” Julian said.

  The energy visibly evaporated from Vann’s body as he dropped his arms and ducked h
is head. “It’s not fair.”

  “We’ll find you another job. You’ll have your weekend. It’ll just take a little longer than you thought it would.”

  Drayton rubbed small circles on Vann’s back, thankful the small gesture seemed to ease some of the tension in Vann’s body. He snaked his arm around Vann’s waist, pulling him against his body. He took a deep breath, enjoying the comfortable closeness of having his arm around Vann without hiding how he felt or whom he wanted to be with. He turned his focus to Julian. “The company was already approved before Vann arrived at the halfway house, why don’t you place him with me?”

  Vann pulled out of the semi-embrace and turned toward him. “Your company’s in the work program?”

  Julian rubbed his shaved head again. “Matt went through the listings. Shaw’s skills didn’t coincide with the openings your office sent over.”

  Drayton focused his attention on Julian, trying to ignore the confusion in Vann’s expression. “I’ll get that squared away when I get back to the office. We’ll start him as soon as you can get him approved to begin work there.”

  Julian nodded and walked over to his truck. “Shaw, let’s go. It’s too damn hot out here.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” Vann turned back to face Drayton. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in the program?” he asked with a frown.

  Drayton slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks, already missing the closeness of only a few moments ago. “I thought you didn’t take a job there because you didn’t want to work with me.”

  “Dray, c’mon,” Vann said, rolling his eyes. “Why the hell would you think I wouldn’t want to work with you?”

  “I thought you rejected the idea because I was the one offering.”

  “Won’t be the first time you hired me to do a job. And you won’t be giving me a free ride. I’m going to have to earn my place there.”

  “I hear the boss can be a bit of a dick. So it’s going to be hard.”

  “I know the boss.” Vann leaned in but kept a few teasing inches between them. “And from what I remember, I like his dick. Especially when it’s hard.”