Chapter Sixteen
Kevin
KEVIN COULDN’T SLEEP. Since last month, when the DNA tests had been run and Larry Murphy had confessed, everything had moved with rapid speed. Kevin’s appeal was heard and granted. The result was that tomorrow he’d be a free man. His mind couldn’t catch up with the idea.
How should he act? This cell had been his only home for the past nine years. He hated to admit it, but he was petrified to step out into the real world. He almost wanted to commit a real crime so he could stay here.
What the hell was he thinking? Shit, he’d been waiting for freedom forever. He’d been man enough to handle a prison hell hole. The real world had to be a cinch.
At daybreak, the morning whistle shrilled, rousing the prisoners. Kevin did not awaken because he’d never fallen asleep. Now, when he needed his faculties, he felt confused and exhausted.
He groggily followed the guard into the mess hall. Dumping some mushy oatmeal into his mouth, he reminded himself that soon he’d sink his teeth into a lumberjack breakfast of pancakes, sausage, and eggs. He’d cram it all down until he was stuffed, then gorge himself even more. Man, how he craved decent food.
The commissary issued Kevin a regulation suit. It itched like hell. He’d never liked suits anyway.
The fat-assed warden called him into his office. “Mr. Green, soon you’ll be a free man. Unfortunately, it appears you shouldn’t have been imprisoned here in the first place. You’re not the first person to endure such a calamity, so let me give you a little advice. Don’t be bitter. Go out and make good the rest of your life.”
Easy for you to say, Kevin thought, nodding blandly. He’d agree to anything at this point, though he knew the pompous jerk in front of him couldn’t care less about what had happened. Why should he? It wasn’t him.
Fighting a simmering rage, Kevin followed the guard back to his cell. There he gathered his meager belongings: some Playboy and auto mechanic magazines, an ancient radio, and a tiny TV. Not much to show for such a long stay.
“Okay, let’s go,” the guard said.
This was it. Trembling seized Kevin. He couldn’t move. Then, as if in a dream, he stepped out of his cell and floated past an endless line of bars. A bombardment of cheers and obscenities greeted him.
Midway down the line, Steve Summers reached out. “Kevin, my man, let me know how it is out there.”
Kevin swallowed a huge lump in his throat. Without Steve, he’d never have survived. This part was rough. He’d die before setting foot back in this hell hole, but that meant never seeing Steve again. “Don’t worry. I will,” he said, gripping his friend’s hand tightly, trying not to look surprised as he felt the exchange of a small piece of paper. What was that all about? Maybe a goodbye message. Nonchalantly he transferred it to his jeans pocket.
MAKING HIS WAY down the lengthy corridor, he listened to the echoing sound of his footsteps, a reminder of the hollow existence he’d led for the past nine years.
He and the guard reached the last gate. Kevin shifted his feet, so nervous he wanted to piss. The ring in the guard’s hand jangled as he tried out different keys.
“Come on, come on,” Kevin muttered beneath his breath.
The guard stood still, then turned to Kevin. “What’d you say?”
Panic made Kevin’s heart race. Could he be thrown back in for bad behavior? “Nothing,” he answered in a subdued tone.
Satisfied, the man tried another key. It finally turned the lock. With a creak, the gate swung open. Kevin’s heart galloped. He felt so lightheaded he almost passed out. He couldn’t believe it. He was free!
The gate clanged behind him. He was outside—alone and disoriented. Panicking, he searched for a familiar face, but no one was in sight. All he could see were endless miles of open fields and a vanishing highway. Where was Dad? Derek had promised to be here at eleven. It was already eleven-thirty. Had Derek gotten drunk? How could he reach him? There was no phone around to make a call.
Anxiously he scanned the horizon. Derek had to come. He wouldn’t let his son down, would he? Sure, Sharon was first in Derek’s life since their marriage eight years ago, but Derek’s only son had to mean something. This was important. Dad had promised to pick him up. Also, he’d offered to pay Kevin’s first month’s rent in a new apartment. Kevin bit his lip. He longed to be stretched out in his own pad, enjoying his first taste of freedom. He didn’t want to be standing here on tired legs waiting.
Trying to still his jitters, he forced in a deep breath. The refreshing September air felt good as it settled in his lungs. Not to panic. The old man had never been punctual. He’d show up sooner or later.
Kevin was so lost in thought he didn’t notice the weathered Ford pickup approach.
“Get in, son,” Derek called out.
With relief, Kevin climbed onto the tattered seat. As the cab rolled, he bounced. The jolt of the broken springs didn’t bother him. They were familiar. Derek had never owned anything decent. Knowing next to nothing about auto mechanics, he’d run every vehicle he’d ever owned into the ground. Besides new springs, this particular truck cried out for a tune-up. That was one department where Kevin could pay back the old man.
Derek’s threadbare jeans and tattered T-shirt testified that paying an extra month’s rent for his son would put a big dent in his wallet. A rush of gratitude filled Kevin, making him smile. He wasn’t the only one in the old man’s life, but he still counted. It felt good to be wanted. The world wasn’t so bad after all.
After a few hours, they reached the north side of Chicago. Derek pulled up in front of an aged wooden building. They climbed a rickety staircase to the fourth floor. At the third door to the right, he handed Kevin a key. “This is it, son. All yours.”
Kevin’s hands trembled as he turned the key, a symbol of his freedom. For too long, others had controlled his comings and goings. His stomach knotted at the remembrance. He wouldn’t think of that now. He only wanted to enjoy the moment. He pulled open the door, stepped inside and glanced around. The apartment was small, but clean, and furnished with second-hand discards. The worn, gold-colored sofa looked like the same one he and his old man had shared ages ago.
The tired fixings didn’t matter. This place was infinitely larger than a jail room and all his. At last he could do what he wanted whenever he wanted. He was struck dumb at the enormity of the thought.
Mistaking Kevin’s silence, his father said, “I know it’s not much, but when you get a job, I’m sure you can do better.”
Kevin already felt possessive about the place. “Thanks, Dad. I really like it. You’re great.”
He hadn’t planned it, but suddenly he reached out to hug Derek. Neither of them had ever been openly affectionate, but today was special. Right now he wanted to throw his arms around the world.
Derek broke away quickly. “Well, I better get going. Sharon’s waiting.”
Kevin nodded absently, already basking in his newfound freedom.
It didn’t take long to unpack. Next, he’d check out the kitchenette. Surprisingly, the cabinets and refrigerator were already stocked with groceries and utensils. Such details were the mark of a woman. He’d never met her, but maybe Sharon wasn’t so bad after all. She was his stepmother and they were family. Maybe she could be like a substitute mother.
He shook off the sick feeling which invaded him at the thought of never seeing his own Mom. Today wasn’t a day for morbid thoughts.
First, he may as well set things up. He threw his meager store of underwear and socks into the scarred dresser. With that done, he placed his tiny television onto the battered stand. The picture flickered, then stilled. He scrounged for the bag of Fritos he’d seen in the cabinet, then plunked himself down.
A favorite episode of The Three Stooges was on, the one where the bee got stuck in the fancy lady’s dress and she danced all over the place. He laughed loud and long, as if he’d never seen the program in his life. It felt good to let go. It seemed st
range not to have a guard yell at him to pipe down. Here he had no curfew. He watched TV late into the night, until his eyes grew heavy and he nodded off.
When he awakened, out of habit he listened for the morning whistle, but only heard static. Could it be broken? As his memory returned, relief flowed through him. He was a free man. What an awesome thought. Prying open his eyes, he watched in fascination as the rays from the sun streamed from the window onto the television screen. Man alive, what a marvelous sight.
He still couldn’t comprehend that he was free and the nightmare was over. His head spun and he felt high on hope.
The state of euphoria lasted a few short weeks until reality set in. He had to find a job, but who would hire him? He’d been innocent, but was still labeled a jailbird. Who would believe him?
He had to locate Brad somehow, so he could hook up with him on the security scheme. In the meantime, he’d settle for something less lucrative to keep from mooching off the old man. A few blocks away at the drug store, he uncovered a crumbling phone book, where he looked up employment offices. After a five-block hike, he climbed onto the bus.
When he got to the first office, the place was jammed. A glance at his competition revealed an ugly, motley crew. Kevin’s complexion was prison-pale, but his ill-fitting suit couldn’t disguise his broad shoulders and trim waist. Exercise and weightlifting had relieved his boredom. Now he was reaping the benefits. He decided he looked a hundred percent better than any of the creeps here, that’s for sure.
Eventually he got to the front of the line, where an old hag presided behind a grated window. She looked like she’d never felt a dick inside her in her life.
Time to turn on the old charm. He flashed a seductive smile. Though it was rusty from lack of practice, apparently he had enough left in reserve to dazzle the old biddy. She fluttered her eyelashes before forking over a short list of available jobs.
“Have a look,” she said.
She’d probably offer her body if he asked.
The room smelled surprisingly like prison B.O. Stifling an urge to hold his nose, he slid behind a classroom-like desk. Hadn’t these losers heard of soap and water? He knew he smelled good. Every day he took extra time in the shower to wash away the prison smells. He’d never reek again.
Time to find that job. He glanced at the first sheet, applying what he’d learned about controlling dyslexia, forcing his mind to recognize the written words. There were some white collar jobs, but he despised reading. Deciphering this list was torture enough. He needed a job where he could use his hands. There were a few maintenance positions, but they required experience, as did those of electricians. Would jail time count? That would be too embarrassing to list.
Wait a minute—Wally’s Repair Shop needed a mechanic. He could do that. He was a whiz at assembling and disassembling motor parts. Also, he was a genius at diagnosing car problems. This job looked right up his alley. Hopefully Wally wouldn’t be too particular about background.
He got his interview. Wally quizzed him on alternators, speedometers and brake lines. Satisfied, the man took him on. The pay was low, but it was a foot in the door.
It didn’t take long for Kevin to settle in at Wally’s. He liked testing the BMWs and Jaguars and pretending they were his. He enjoyed the twenty-minute breaks in the morning and afternoon and the hour off for lunch.
A few weeks later, he was lounging in the break room and reading the oil-stained Tribune, which made its rounds to all the mechanics, when he happened to glance at the sports page. Pro basketball season would start on Friday. Word was out Callaway had gotten the thumbs-up to play. Would his ankle last? Columnist Wilbert Woods, ever the optimist, predicted Callaway would make it through sheer determination. Others were cautionary, saying the injury was tricky.
Kevin gripped the paper tightly, crunching its corners. Why must he get reminders of something he wanted to forget? God, he hated Callaway. If it weren’t for him, Heartland would not have happened. And the jerk had had the audacity to come and visit. If it weren’t for curiosity, Kevin would have refused to see him. Danny Callaway had looked sick to his stomach as he gazed at Kevin through the glass.
“I’m sorry as hell,” he’d said. “Can I make it up to you?”
The great Danny Callaway had begged for forgiveness. At first, Kevin hadn’t replied. He’d watched as the prick sweated. He’d refused to make it easy on him.
“Please, I’ll do anything,” Callaway had pleaded.
Kevin had smiled with disdain. “You should’ve thought of that a long time ago, you prick.” He’d gestured around the dismal looking room with its once-white, now-gray walls. “This is your fault. You’re the one who got me in here.”
“How was I to know it was Larry?” Callaway had asked, in a rising voice.
“You shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. As far as I’m concerned, you’re guiltier than Murphy,” Kevin had said flatly.
He’d looked straight into the star’s groveling eyes and said, “You could’ve saved me. Now live with what you did.”
Callaway had next offered money. No way would Kevin let him get off that easy and he told him so. Then he’d clamped his mouth shut, a signal for Callaway to leave. If he’d had less pride, he would have taken that dough.
Kevin’s ruminations were cut short by a stern voice.
“Break’s over, Green. Constance Jennings needs the Chrysler.”
Swearing to himself, Kevin rose. Assistant Manager Brian Barnes, the owner of the grating voice, was the one horsefly in the ointment here. Barnes always rode Kevin’s ass, never giving him a break. If only he could smack the jerk…but then he’d lose his job.
Kevin drove around the LeBaron to Mrs. Jennings, who didn’t waste her sweet breath on even a thank you. As she slipped into the driver’s seat, she purposely let her skirt ride up, revealing a flash of long legs. His cock rose to the occasion. He barely restrained himself from jumping in beside her.
A fellow mechanic, Mike Evans, caught Kevin’s look, and whispered, “Forget that one. She’s a prick teaser.”
With a regretful shrug, Kevin set his sights on a dented station wagon. His practiced hands glided over the rocker panels, envisioning Constance’s luscious body. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, yet he still recognized the signs when one wanted him.
Why not? He was still a hunk.
Two Wrongs Page 16