Unprecedented

by C. D. Gill

  He compiled lists of the supplies he’d need to collect in order to put together these children’s kits he wanted to put out to stores and nonprofits. Following Reggie’s lead, he searched the idea online. People posted anything and everything online if you knew what to look for.

  His notebook had pages filled with ideas of children’s kits to make. Competing companies sold similar kits for twenty-five or thirty dollars. Maybe he could make this business profitable next year after all.

  Not until early afternoon did Xander surface from his productivity to check his email. Both of Reggie’s items sold. The sales number gave him a shot of adrenaline. He tucked the cash payment into an envelope.

  Buried in the middle of seventy-seven new emails was an email titled “Invitation to Interview.” Those job search websites never gave up. His mouse hovered over the delete button.

  But he opened it instead.

  The letter started off with “Dear Mr. Reinerman,”, introductions, saying he’d seen him with Cruz and Ronaldo, surprising but likely untrue flatteries about his coaching skills that escalated into an offer for an interview to be a U-19 men’s coach in Denver. The season started January 4, like usual. Would he be available for an interview December twenty-second?

  Xander sat back against his chair hard.

  It wasn’t semi-pro like the Jesters but coaches from feeder teams for the Major League Soccer teams often recruited from nineteen-year-old’s league. The job would give him a national platform. His heart raced. This could be the breakthrough he needed to get back into the coaching world.

  He paced around the room, his hands on his head. How mad would Gia be about him considering this? She had been so excited about him looking for positions in New Orleans. The thought made his stomach turn.

  But this could be his one chance. What if he missed it? Surely, she’d understand the year-long commitment as a stepping stone to get him where he wanted to be in New Orleans or traveling with the men’s international team. She loved Colorado, and it’d take her time to wrap up everything she had going in Colorado to move to New Orleans anyway.

  Once she finished with Joey’s project, she’d be free to come back so they weren’t doing long distance anymore. Not to mention, he wasn’t going anywhere until his settlement closed out, or God forbid, went to court.

  The more he rationalized it in his head the more positive he was that Gia would see their very near future needed to be in Golden. Together.

  He clicked Reply and wrote out an email accepting the interview. If they offered it, he wouldn’t have to take it, but this would buy him time to talk Gia to about their future. However, after today’s high-stress meeting was not the time.

  He opened a text to her. Thinking of you. How did your meeting go? He sent the text as fast as possible so he didn’t have time to wonder further if he should tease his big news.

  Instead, he buried himself in creating a campaign for launching a regular craft night, Flip and Sip. If he got the coaching job, he’d be able to hire someone to run the nights without him since he’d have games and practices. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted this coaching position.

  A knock on the door followed by Reggie pulled him out of it. Twisting in his seat, he faced Reggie who stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shuffling his feet.

  “Hey, uh, Xander.” Reggie licked his lips. What had this kid so worked up? “Would you be able to write a letter as proof of employment for me, stating my hours I work and what I’m doing?”

  Well, that was unexpected. Xander kicked a rolling chair in Reggie’s direction. “How about you level with me first?”

  Reggie dropped into the chair, his shoulders slumped.

  “How old are you actually?” Xander asked, arms crossed. Reggie perked up. “Don’t tell me eighteen again. IDs can be faked as easily as the names you give out. I want to help you, so give me the respect of your real information.”

  He sighed. “Fifteen.”

  “Your real name?”

  “Bernard Reginald Harrison.”

  Yeah, he’d go with Reggie, too. “Who’s asking for the letter?”

  Reggie rubbed his face hard. “My foster parents think I’m out doing drugs or part of a gang. I told them I have a job making stuff. They said no one would hire a fifteen-year-old. I said I’d prove I was working after school. Look, these people are the first pair that haven’t abused me in some way in the last few years. They aren’t great, but I need to make it work there for as long as I can. Last night, they threatened to call social services.”

  “What happens if they do that?”

  “I get sent to a group home for kids.” Reggie shook his head. “I’m not looking to be in a gang or stuck in juvie. I want a legitimate start to life when I turn eighteen. That means working now. Please?”

  His words took Xander’s breath away. This was the very reason he’d started The Upcycled Life, yet he couldn’t push the anonymous warning from his mind. “Are you telling me the absolute truth?”

  Reggie pulled out his wallet and shoved a handful of cards at Xander. His ID, his social worker’s information, his school ID, and a picture of him standing with his arm around a little boy. It didn’t seem to be a con from whoever was out to get him. If it was, it was genius to use a kid to get close.

  “Okay, I’ll write your letter,” Xander said. “On one condition.”

  Reggie spread his hands. “Anything.”

  “I drive you home tonight and meet your foster parents in person. A letter, certified or not, can be faked. I’ll take everything I need with me to show them who I am and what I do.”

  The smile that spread across Reggie’s face was pure excitement. “That’d be perfect. Thanks, man. They’ll believe me then. Write the letter to Regina and Carl Destarny.” He grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs.

  “Wait a second, Reggie,” Xander said, extending the envelope with the cash in it. “You wear a medium or large shirt?”

  “Medium.”

  Xander strode over to his box of shirts and yanked an M from the pile. “Congrats on your first sales. You do really good work. It’s no surprise your stuff sold already. Keep it up.”

  Reggie took the shirt, still grinning. He pulled a dorky teenage dance move then he jogged up the stairs to the workroom. Xander laughed. As much as he wanted to suspect Reggie, his gut trusted him, but not enough to go to Reggie’s “house” alone tonight.

  He needed a plan.

  Who could he call that wouldn’t require lots of explanation, but would back him up?

  The phone told him his call was connecting as he lifted it to his ear. He closed himself into Gia’s inner office. Already his mental defenses were up, assuming it’d be a no.

  “Hey, bro,” Linc answered.

  “Linc, hey. You busy tonight? Because I have a favor to ask.”

  “It’s Friday night, so I’d planned to go out around eight which you’re welcome to join. But I’m not busy until then. What’s up?”

  Xander had no great way to phrase this. “I have a high-school kid who has been coming to my office every day and making really nice products to sell on my website. He wants help convincing his foster parents that he has a job and isn’t into drugs. I’m taking him home around six and want to convince the parents in person, but if they look into me at all, it might throw more shade on this poor kid.”

  Linc snorted. “I’m a great wingman and have a very honest face. I’ll be there at 5:30 to introduce myself to the guy first.”

  A cooling sensation ran across his chest. Since walking out of his parents’ house on Father’s Day, Linc had taken every effort to make their relationship better and be there for him—the way things used to be. “Thanks, Linc. And can you bring your personal protection just in case this guy diverts us to somewhere we don’t want to be?”

  “Sure thing. As a thank you, you’ll join me and the guys for a night out, right?”

  No doubt, “the guys” would be Linc’s hockey tea
mmates—rowdy, immature, and eager to waste their money on a morning hangover and curdled stomach. The decline sat on the tip of his tongue, but he’d been out of prison for six months now and had a mere handful of friends to show for it. Xander blinked. It beat sitting alone trying to find something on TV or feeling like he should be working. “Yeah, I’ll join you. Thanks for the invite.”

  When he hung up, a text buzzed through from Gia. Survived the meeting. 6 days to get the revisions done if I want to relax on Christmas Eve. Call you tonight.

  His smile faded as he processed the situation. She could be finished with this project by Christmas, but Maddox hadn’t sent any word on when his next settlement meeting was. There wasn’t much of a chance that she’d ditch New Orleans for Colorado with her family there.

  One problem at a time.

  He typed up a quick note to Regina and Carl and printed it on his company letterhead. It sounded plenty official for what Reggie had asked for. His long legs easily took the stairs two at a time to his workshop. They had an hour before Linc showed up.

  If he didn’t do something with his hands, his anxiety would get the better of him in a heartbeat.

  In the workshop, he waved the paper toward Reggie. “Here’s the signed document.” Reggie’s bag sat open, so he tucked it inside.

  “Thanks, Xander. I really appreciate it,” Reggie said. His phone sat on the workbench beside him playing songs Xander thought he might recognize as pop.

  Those window flower boxes weren’t going to sand themselves. Xander set to work on them with the sandpaper instead of the electric sander.

  “We still on for material collecting tomorrow at nine, assuming all goes with the Carl and Regina tonight?”

  Reggie nodded. “I made a list of what I want to look for.” He hummed along with the song.

  “I respect your plan. You seem like you know what you want from life, and knowing how to get there is half the battle. Staying out of one of those group homes sounds like priority number one.”

  The humming stopped. “Took one of my foster brothers getting killed on the street during a drug deal to wake me. Until then, I didn’t care that I had one strike left. Screw the system. But now I see the best way to stick it to the system is to succeed, to do the best for myself despite them.”

  “I feel that,” Xander murmured. There it was. His life ambition laid out by a fifteen-year-old.

  No time at all passed until Xander got a text from Linc. Here.

  “I’m going out tonight with my brother after we drop you off so he’s going to ride along, if that’s all right,” Xander said as he walked to the door.

  “Cool.”

  Xander opened the front door to Linc, then locked it behind him. Linc’s casual glance around could not have been more obvious.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how concerned are we about personal safety with this kid?” Linc whispered.

  “My gut says zero, but my mistrust of human beings in general puts it around a 4,” Xander said, walking to the stairs. “Hey, Reggie. You ready to go?”

  “One minute,” Reggie called.

  “I’ve got my reloadable taser in my pocket in case.”

  At one point, Linc had told him it was frowned upon for athletes of their status to go out without personal protection of some sort. They weren’t the pros, so it was hard to imagine who was going to recognize them and pick a fight, but he was grateful for the backup all the same. “Your hockey meatheads meeting us out tonight?” Xander asked as he closed up shop.

  Linc laughed. “Yeah, but we’ve got practice at the crack of dawn, so they’ll go easy tonight.”

  From Linc’s stories, his teammates didn’t know how to “go easy” doing anything. It was face mask to the plexiglass one hundred percent of the time. Xander could already feel the headache forming.

  Reggie trotted into the room and followed them out to the SUV. Xander drove, Reggie got the front, and Linc tucked into the back. As they drove, Linc introduced himself and asked a few questions.

  “I’m not far.” Reggie directed him down one street, a left, a mile or so down, then right and into a subdivision.

  The knot of tension in Xander’s shoulders eased. The homes were mid-sized for families with kids’ gear in the yards.

  “Second house on the right.”

  Xander pulled in. Looked like the fight would be for his dignity, not his life. Linc followed them to the front door and Reggie let them in. The house smelled amazing. Homey decorations and family photos graced the walls in collages.

  Reggie motioned them toward the front room. “Stay here. I’ll go get Regina.”

  A minute later, Reggie walked in. “Regina, this is Xander from Reclaim That and his brother Linc.”

  Xander extended his hand first to the short, dark-haired woman in front of him. She might have been Asian, but he knew better than to guess. “Regina, nice to meet you.”

  Her grip was firm and her smile seemed sincere. “Reggie just showed me the document you drew up for him. That was nice of you.”

  She greeted Linc as well.

  “I don’t mean to intrude this evening, but I wanted to reassure you in person that Reggie is not getting into any trouble between 3:45 and when he comes home. He’s the hardest working kid I’ve met in a really long time and he’s great at the designs he does.” Xander scanned Regina’s face, waiting for the cynicism and doubt to come.

  “He’s very good with his hands,” Regina said, patting Reggie on the shoulder. “Thank you for your reassurances. Maybe after Christmas, Carl and I can peek in on your workshop and see exactly what it is you do.”

  Xander nodded. “Stop by any time. In fact, next year I’m offering custom creation nights for ladies’ nights out if you and a few of your friends want to upcycle something for fun.”

  Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you. We’ll keep that in mind.”

  And that was his cue to go. “We should get going, but it was a pleasure to meet you, Regina.”

  As she walked them to the door, Xander glanced over his shoulder at Reggie standing in the entryway. Reggie’s thumbs up gave him permission to breathe easier as they ducked into the car to drive to dinner. He had a good feeling he’d see Reggie tomorrow morning at nine am.

  They stopped by the office to pick up Linc’s car and drove to a place called George’s that boasted Live Music, Gourmet Deserts, 8 PM Fri Nites. By the look of it, there hadn’t been anything gourmet in there in decades, much less the desserts they’d probably accurately called deserts.

  Inside, the energy exploded. TVs showed sports, and overhead music played loudly enough that they had to yell. Linc motioned to a high-top near the pool tables. The menu was sticky with a film on it and the table surface wasn’t much better.

  Why had he agreed to come out again?

  “Because you missed this part of humanity for the last few years,” Linc shouted as a new song started up.

  Guess he’d asked that out loud. Xander laughed. “Dirty spaces and crappy food, we had plenty of. You were the missing link.”

  Grinning, Linc slowed clapped at his play on words. They ordered drinks and an appetizer from the very young-looking waitress and claimed a pool table to wait for the others.

  At 7:15, the guys showed up. The music started at 8. And by 9 PM, Xander was tapped out on the loud, obnoxious incessant competing of Linc’s teammates who were several drinks up on the “going easy” promise.

  “Hey, buddy. I’m headed out,” Xander shouted into Linc’s ear. Linc said something but Xander couldn’t hear it, so he waved. He paid his bill and walked into the freezing night air.

  Partway to his car, his feet went out from under him. His face landed hard against the gravel parking lot. A heavy weight pressed into his back, squeezing the rest of the air from his lungs. His shoulders screamed in pain as his arms twisted behind his back.

  “Been waiting a long time to get you alone, Jerry’s pet.” A low voice growled in his ear. The stench of sour wh
iskey on his breath made Xander’s nose burn. “Where did he hide it?”

  Even if Xander knew what he was talking about, his lungs still weren’t getting enough oxygen to stop the gasping and black spots in his vision.

  “We know he told you where it was. Now, play nice and tell me before I snap your arms off.”

  Fighting the adrenaline, Xander relaxed his whole body, creating a bit of room. The knee moved off his back as he flipped onto his back. Cold metal pressed against his forehead.

  The last thing this beast of a tattooed muscleman wanted to hear was that Xander didn’t know. “I—I,” he gasped. His mind blanked in a panic. He’d die in a gravel parking lot of a dive bar and his dad wouldn’t be surprised.

  Chapter 11

  The international video call with the engineers had, in a weird way, energized her. Sure, they’d picked her work apart as if they were her college professors grading her college project. But now she had the steps to take to finish the project and enjoy her Christmas.

  It was a welcomed distraction from yesterday’s upheaval. When Gia made it home on Thursday evening, Daddy, Ma, Amos, and Andy waited for her in the library like an intervention gathering pulled straight from a sit-com. She asked them to wait for a quick minute while she dashed up the stairs to change into a sweatshirt and leggings. If she was going to get bad news, she needed it to be while she was comfortable.

  When she returned hidden away behind her layers of protection, she gave them her bravest smile and braced herself for the worst.

  Andy started. “I drove the drink directly to my contact at our nearby lab and they graciously agreed to expedite processing it.” He paused, rustling his papers.

  “I’m guessing there was something in it, or this meeting would have been an email.” Gia’s words earned her an arched eyebrow from Ma and a half-smirk from Daddy.

  “Condensed fertilizer, enough to poison you in minutes or worse.”

  Gia nodded, but her mind dropped in a freefall. Careless. Foolish. The words scrolled across her mind in a string. Her fingers massaged her temples where the pounding took residence. What had she been thinking to almost drink that?