One Step At A Time

by Brenda Adcock

  “That against the rules, too?” Maddie quipped over her shoulder. “Just thought I’d check out the silverware in case I have a need to split quick-like.”

  “Learn that smart-ass crap in prison?” Sal sneered.

  “I learned a lot of things in prison, chief,” Maddie grinned. “You can give me a pop quiz later if ya feel the need, but right now I’m goin’ out for a smoke. Coffee’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

  Maddie strolled out the back door and lit a generic cigarette she’d purchased the evening before when she picked up her new clothes. She wandered casually around the well-tended back yard, stopping occasionally to examine the plants growing in the large garden. She smiled as she leaned against a fenced enclosure to watch the chickens pecking at the ground, accompanied by their chicks. Oddly, it reminded her of home, something she hadn’t thought about in more years than she could count.

  She closed her eyes and let the memories of growing up on her parents’ Nebraska farm filter through her mind. All she could see at first was the smiling face of a young blonde woman. Seeing that face filled Maddie with a warm glow. Then she saw herself being suddenly lifted off the ground by strong, tanned arms a moment before she was tossed high into the blue sky, giggling as those strong arms caught her gently to toss her upward again, squealing with childish laughter. The memories fast-forwarded to a time when the childish laughter ended and she stared down at the peaceful, unsmiling faces of her parents, blurred by her tears.

  Her parents had died unexpectedly, the farm was gone, and at sixteen, Maddie was considered too old for adoption and made a ward of the state. Funds from the sale of the farm were held in trust for Maddie until she turned eighteen and was on her own for the first time. That was when her journey down the road of poor choices started, slowly at first, then gathering speed until that night about eleven years ago. Maddie’s hands were shaking by the time she opened her eyes and lit another cigarette to calm her nerves. She leaned down and picked up a chick, stroking it softly with her thumb. She set it down carefully before making her way back into the house. She filled a mug with coffee and took the plate Flo handed her. She joined Sal at the dining room table.

  “You like chickens?” Sal asked.

  Maddie shrugged. “They don’t hurt nobody.”

  Sal shook her head and smiled. “Flo says they’re calmin’.”

  “I s’pose,” Maddie said.

  “You grew up on a farm somewhere, didn’t ya?” Sal asked over the top of her coffee mug.

  “Nebraska, but since ya ran a background check on me, ya already know I did,” Maddie glared. “What’s it to ya?”

  “Just curious,” Sal shrugged.

  “Curiosity killed the cat, y’know,” Maddie muttered.

  Sal stiffened. “Was that a threat, James?”

  “An observation, but take it however ya want,” Maddie said as she shoved the last of her breakfast into her mouth and stood to stack her dishes before carrying them into the kitchen.

  SAL FOLLOWED MADDIE and leaned against a kitchen counter, resting her hand on Flo’s shoulder until Maddie left the room.

  “I think you’re makin’ a mistake with that one, honey,” Sal said.

  “You interrogate her again?” Flo snorted. Turning her head to look at Sal, she smiled and said, “I wish you’d leave that cop attitude at work, baby. I can’t get these women to trust us when you’re always givin’ ‘em the third-degree because of that stick up your ass.”

  Sal leaned over and kissed Flo softly. “Sorry, baby. It’s just a habit. Besides, I thought ya liked my ass.”

  Flo returned the kiss. “I do, but break that habit or ya might find yourself sleepin’ on the damn couch.”

  Sal moved behind Flo and encircled her waist, nibbling at her neck. “I wouldn’t like that, sugar, but neither would you,” she mumbled as her hands began wandering.

  Flo tried to shake her away unsuccessfully. “I was takin’ care of my own...needs...long before I met you, y’know.”

  “But it’s more fun when someone else does it for ya,” Sal whispered as her hands covered Flo’s breasts and squeezed lightly. “Damn. I love ya, Flo,” she added. “And love takin’ care of your...needs.”

  “Love ya, too, baby,” Flo responded with a grin.

  MADDIE WALKED DOWN the street until she spotted a large black and yellow sign above triple garage doors announcing Oscar’s Auto Repair. She lit another cigarette and sat on the curb across the street from the well-kept looking business, her forearms resting on her knees. Fifteen minutes later, she fieldstripped her cigarette and stuffed the filter into the front pocket of her jeans as the doors were pulled up by chains. Three well-built, heavily tattooed muscular men who couldn’t have been anything other than ex-cons, or three of the Village People, anchored the chains and strolled into the garage bays to begin working.

  Maddie trotted across the street and sashayed slowly into the garage with her hands shoved into the back pockets of her jeans. She stopped beside the first man she saw and stood there silently, watching him as he worked under the hood of a fairly new Chrysler 300. The man tossed a wrench onto a tool table next to him and straightened up, glancing at Maddie. “Hep ya, girlie?” he asked as his eyes drifted over her tall body.

  “Oscar around?” she responded.

  “Prob’ly in the office, but he don’t need no Girl Scout cookies,” the big man chuckled.

  “Good thing because I ain’t no fuckin’ Girl Scout,” Maddie said with a grin. “Even though I did manage to earn a merit badge for muff divin’ at camp.”

  The big man grunted and stuck his head back under the Chrysler’s hood.

  Maddie glanced around and spotted a neon sign denoting the location of the business’ office. She stepped over tools and auto parts to reach the office and rapped solidly three times on the door while looking over her shoulder at the three mechanics. The office door opened and a pleasant looking older Hispanic man motioned her inside, a telephone receiver against his ear. He pointed at an old vinyl covered chair in front of his desk. She sat down quietly while he continued his phone call.

  A few minutes later, he slammed the receiver into its cradle and muttered, “Bendejo.” Then he smiled and looked at Maddie. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “I’m lookin’ for a job and heard there might be one available here,” Maddie said.

  He leaned back and steepled his fingers against his lips. “What kind of job you lookin’ for?” he asked.

  “Mechanic. I have a letter of recommendation from Dave Larson, my instructor.”

  “Good man. You were at Sand Ridge then.”

  Maddie nodded. “Got out a couple of weeks ago.”

  Oscar pulled out a blank application and handed it to her. “Fill this out. Maybe a female mechanic won’t be as intimidating to my female customers.” He handed her a pen. “Be as specific as you can about what Dave taught you to do.” As soon as she started to fill out the form, he stuck his hand out. “Oscar Melendez,” he said.

  Maddie choked involuntarily, setting off a coughing fit. “Madelyn,” she finally managed as she took his hand briefly.

  “Who’s your probation officer? I’ll need to contact him or her,” Oscar said.

  “Don’t have one,” Maddie said quietly. “Did my whole time.”

  “You find a place to stay?”

  “Staying with Flo and Sal up the street.”

  “Good choice. They’ll treat you right if you don’t fuck up. Want a bottle of water?”

  “Thank you, sir,” Maddie answered.

  After writing down everything she could think of, Maddie handed the form back to him and chugged half the bottle of cold water, not optimistic about being hired after he figured out who she was. While he looked over the form, she glanced around the office, stopping when her eyes landed on a photo of a handsome young man standing behind an attractive young woman. His hand rested easily on her shoulder and he held a girl who
appeared to be around four- or five-years old. An older child, a boy around seven, stood next to his mother, smiling broadly.

  Oscar noticed Maddie staring at the picture. “My son, Bryan, and his family. He’s gone, but his wife and kids still live here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maddie muttered.

  “Madelyn James,” Oscar said, looking over her application. “I bet they called you Maddie...when you were little.”

  “Still do,” Maddie admitted as she stood up to leave. Until that moment, she’d never truly faced the consequences of her actions. She hadn’t been driving the vehicle, but her drug-induced actions had caused the accident that took Bryan Melendez’s life in seconds, leaving behind a widow and two fatherless young children. “I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Melendez,” she said around a lump in her throat.

  Melendez stood. “Come back in the morning. I have a kinda special project I think you’d be perfect for.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t take this job because you feel sorry for me.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you. Hell, at least you’re still suckin’ air. My son is dead because of your recklessness and you have to live knowin’ his wasn’t the only life you affected,” Oscar forced through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath to calm his emotions before continuing, “You paid your debt and I’ve forced myself to accept that. I have to believe you received the punishment you deserved, even though others don’t. Come back tomorrow ready to work or I may have to get Sal to drag your sorry ass in. Pretty sure she’d enjoy doin’ that. Now beat it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Maddie muttered before leaving the small office. She nodded at the big man she’d spoken to earlier and stuffed her hand into her jean pocket to pull out a cigarette, lighting it after she stepped outside. She walked home, wondering why Oscar had even considered hiring the person responsible for the needless death of his son.

  She sat on the porch swing to finish her cigarette and think, wondering where Buck, Alice, and the other carnies who’d taken her in and accepted her without question, were. She would miss them, their crass manners and humor. She was sure they were all trying to escape from something, but had never judged her. She fieldstripped her cigarette, rolling it between her thumb and middle finger and stuffed the filter in her pocket before entering the house. The sound of a deep bass throbbed through the front room of the house, bringing back the memory of her group’s bass player, Thumper Mason, pounding out a driving beat that reminded Maddie of a pulsing heartbeat.

  Flo came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel tucked into the waist of her pants. “So when do ya start?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow mornin’,” Maddie answered. “Any coffee left?”

  “Just made a fresh pot,” Flo nodded. “I knew Oscar’d hire ya,” she added.

  “Why would he? He knows I did time for killin’ his son,” Maddie said.

  “That was you?” Flo asked with surprise. “Don’t mention that to Sal. She worked with Bryan.”

  “If she ran my background, she probably already knows,” Maddie said as she filled a mug with coffee.

  “Go out to the chicken coop for me and gather up any eggs ya find, will ya?”

  “Okay. Got a basket?” Maddie asked, setting her mug down after taking a gulp.

  “In the coop. Hey, did ya meet Crew while ya was at Oscar’s?”

  Maddie shrugged. “I dunno. What’s he look like?”

  “Big guy with lots of tattoos and a red beard.”

  “I saw him, but we didn’t really talk,” Maddie said. “Looked rough.”

  Flo laughed. “He does, but has a heart of gold. He protects his friends. Saved my ass.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, Maddie waited outside Oscar’s, smoking a cigarette and sipping coffee from a travel mug Flo had loaned her for work, waiting for the metal garage doors to begin rising. She felt her stomach flutter with nerves when she heard the inside locks flip. She flicked her cigarette into the street and ducked under the first door when it was half open. The big man with the red beard said, “Eager beaver, huh?”

  “Yeah. Workin’ on my Eager Beaver Merit Badge,” she smirked.

  “Another smart-ass,” he muttered as he hooked the first chain in place.

  “Is there a merit badge for that, too? I need to add to my collection.”

  By the time the final door was open, Oscar came out of the office and walked to where Maddie was standing, examining a socket wrench. “Listen up, men,” he started. “This is Maddie. Hired her yesterday. Just released from Sand Ridge recently and lookin’ for a fresh start.” Pointing to each man, he said, “The mountain there is Crew. You’ll report to him for most of your problems. Then there’s Freddie and Beau.” He patted her on the shoulder and added softly, “Watch your back and don’t fuck up.”

  “What’s the special project you wanted me to work on?” Maddie asked, tying a navy-blue bandanna around her head.

  “It’s over in the last bay,” Oscar answered. She followed him and stopped to stare at a rusting vehicle body whose axles were resting on four stacks of cinderblocks. The three men she’d just met, chuckled as they began working.

  “What the hell is it, besides a car body?” she asked. “I’m not really trained for body work.”

  “It’s the body for a sixty-eight Camaro, but needs a little work and a lot of love.”

  “Yeah,” Maddie laughed. “Like an engine, transmission, and just about everthing else.”

  “Your job is to locate the parts you need to get the damn thing runnin’,” Oscar said.

  Maddie walked slowly around the body, bending over to stick her head through a glassless side window. When she stood up, she said, straight-faced, “With a little work, a few cans of spray paint, and four roller skates, I might be able to get ya a really big pedal car. Otherwise, I’d say you’re dreamin’, kimo sabe.”

  Maddie glanced over at Crew who was chuckling and saw him lick his finger, mark an imaginary line in the air, and mouth smart-ass. She stifled a grin by rubbing her face and cleared her throat. “Any imaginary tools available for this imaginary vehicle?” she asked.

  Oscar shoved a rolling tool chest toward her and walked into his office, returning a few minutes later with a small stack of books. “I assume you can read, so these should help,” he said as he dropped them into her arms. She glanced at the book spines and found titles on bodywork, automotive painting, upholstery, and vehicle parts, plus two with schematics of the working parts of the original sixty-eight Camaro. “There’s three or four decent salvage yards around here, but you might have to inquire at a few places in Dallas. They’ll ship whatever you need here. Anything you can’t locate, tell me and I’ll find it somewhere.”

  She looked at Oscar and grinned. “Road trip?”

  He shook his head. “Just let your fingers do the walking.”

  “Well, that sucks,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “This project belonged to my son so I figure you should be the one to restore it. My grandson wants to finish it and get it on the road. I had it hauled here a couple of years ago, but couldn’t force myself to work on it.”

  Maddie watched the beginning of tears pool in Oscar’s eyes and elected to keep her mouth shut. She rolled an adjustable work table closer, grabbed a stool, and sat down, piling the books on the table, and flipped open the manufacturer’s book of schematics. “Got a pen?” she asked, holding out her hand. She found a pad of paper and began jotting down a list of part numbers.

  The next time she looked up to stretch her shoulders, Oscar had disappeared. She picked up her now cold coffee and had just swallowed the last of it when Crew moseyed over and said, “Consider it job security, girlie. This one could last until you start drawin’ Social Security,” he chuckled roughly.

  Maddie rubbed her eyes, tired from reading for what seemed like forever. Crew handed her a cloth from his back pocket. When she used it, the cloth left grease smudges all over her face. “Give my r
egards to Flo,” Crew grinned with another deep chuckle.

  When she took a break for lunch, she was approached by a moderately handsome employee with long, dirty blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. His name was Beau and he sat beside her on a long bench and unwrapped his sandwich. He tore open a bag of chips and offered it to her.

  “Got my own,” Maddie said.

  “What were you in for, honey?” he asked around his first bite.

  Maddie stared at him coldly. “Manslaughter, even though it’s none of your fuckin’ business.”

  “A tough girl, huh?” he said with a smile. “Just tryin’ to be friendly.”

  “Save it. I’m not interested in bein’ your friend, so piss off,” she said.

  Beau gathered his lunch and stood up while Crew chuckled nearby. Beau leaned over and said softly, “You’re kinda cute, but I ain’t crazy about that smart mouth.”

  Maddie looked up and grinned. “You’ll get used to it,” she said as she unpacked her lunch. She glanced at her hands and stood. She walked into the restroom to wash her hands, glancing briefly in the mirror over the sink while soaping up her hands. “Sonofabitch,” she mumbled when she saw the splotches of grease that crossed her forehead and cheeks. She tried scrubbing her face with soap, but all she achieved was smearing the grease over the rest of her face, leaving only her eyes and mouth clear. Her eyes blinked out at her like a minstrel performer and she grinned, then broke out with laughter. It felt good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d really had a good laugh.

  She returned to the shop area and grabbed a bottle of degreaser, ignoring Crew and Beau’s snickers and smiled, “Good one, big guy.” Back in the restroom, she squirted a handful of degreaser into her hands and scrubbed her face until it was clean.”

  Chapter Six

  MADDIE WAS CATALOGUING parts for her ‘project’ and looked up to see a tall, good looking teenaged boy with jet-black hair and curious brown eyes staring at her. Maddie noticed a guitar case resting against his jean-covered leg. She was in the middle of checking out an engine for the Camaro she’d located in Abilene that was delivered that morning. It was hanging on an engine lift and she was disassembling parts to see if they were still in good shape. The salvage owner guaranteed the engine, but Maddie was pretty sure it wasn’t as advertised since it had been languishing in the salvage yard for a couple of years after being involved in a collision, not to mention being exposed to the elements. She’d already found several rusting parts that could compromise the ability of the engine to operate optimally.