small downtown gym had a membership special running for ten dollars per month. It was near the Greyhound station and with some quick thinking he’d signed a contract for a year the night before. All the information on the application was false, but the gym owner was desperate for customers. After getting groomed at the salon in the morning, he’d purchased a combination lock and used a locker in the gym to store his knife and cash. The lockers were only supposed to be locked while he was exercising, but the manager, Mark, told him that they had three times more lockers than patrons, and he could keep his “gym” gear at the club. Since it was still earlier than the night before when he needed to rush back to the house, he decided to visit his stash and count the money if no one was in the locker room.
He was lucky because the only activity at the gym was a “women’s night” aerobics class, and there were no men in the club, except some fat guy, sweating his balls off with the women. Ryan pulled the bag from the locker and fanned some of the money, then did a more accurate count. He smiled, concluding that his calculations were accurate within a couple hundred, plus or minus, then locked it away and returned to the house.
There was a police car parked outside. He hesitated for a few moments but didn’t want to risk missing curfew – not with five thou locked away nearby. He skipped up the stoop and hurried through the front door, hoping to pass Keats and the two officers sitting in the living room. “Ryan! Get your ass in here.”
He halted and turned to face them. “Yeah?”
Keats smiled. “Nice haircut. You’ve changed, boy.”
Ryan stood still. “I took your advice, Keats. This is the fresh new me, ready to rejoin my rightful place in the community.”
Keats disregarded his sarcasm. “Your rightful place is in prison for life, or on death row which would save us tax-payin’ citizens a lot o’ wasted money, keeping your worthless soul alive.”
Ryan snickered nervously. “Why Keats, what kind words. Perhaps I misjudged you. You really are a first class citizen, which explains why you run this fine establishment.”
One of the men sitting, the one in civilian clothes, stood, ending the bantering. “Where were you yesterday, Ryan?”
Ryan responded, “And who are you?”
“I’m detective Tibbs, and this is officer (Ryan missed his name).”
“I was out scoutin’ around looking for work?”
“You got any proof?”
“No. I was just scoutin’ and lookin’ for a barber shop. I cleaned up today and got some applications.”
Tibbs wasn’t interested in the details. “Did you take a Greyhound to Baton Rouge yesterday?”
Ryan was less cocky. “Why no, Mr. Tibbs. I just hung around downtown yesterday.”
Tibbs took a picture from a folder sitting on the chair beside him. “Take a look at this. Is that you?”
It was a clear picture of Ryan taken from inside the pawn shop.”
“Why, no. I don’t know who that is.”
Tibbs continued. “Mr. Keats here identified you.”
Ryan looked at Keats. “Why, Mr. Keats, I don’t see the resemblance at all.”
Keats burst out, “It’s you Ryan. It looks just like you looked yesterday.”
Ryan returned to the officers. “Look, you make your own mind.” Ryan held out his painted arms and rotated in front of them. “Do you think I look like that man? Did anything get stolen? If it did, feel free to search me or my bunk, it’s all I got.”
Tibbs answered, “We already checked upstairs. And we’re asking the prison for your picture, so we’ll be back in touch, Ryan. I don’t need to tell you to stay put, you don’t want to break parole.” He then looked at Keats, “Keep a close eye on Mr. Ryan. If he farts, I want to know. We’ll be back.”
Ryan just shook his hands in mock fright and walked up the stairs. The city cops didn’t have any jurisdiction over him unless they could implicate him in a crime. They had nothing. The prison only had his entrance pictures. No exit pictures were taken.
Ready
Jake and Julie had talked long into the night. She was getting moving quotes, which raised questions about what to move and what to give up – and how to give it up. At the end, he said, “I’ll see you in the morning on Saturday, darling. Save the heavy work for me.”
By Friday night, he had completed painting and cleaned everything up and filled the trash cans. She could move in at any time. He felt good in all respects. His house was suitable for a new bride, at least for a while, and he was in the best physical shape of his life. He didn’t smoke anymore, nor had he had any hard booze in half a year. The transformation amazed him. He owed it all to two women, but his more somber thoughts led back to BJ whose betrayal had been the catalyst for it all. Damn you BJ. I forgive you, but why did you kill yourself?
He actually finished painting Thursday night early enough to go to the gym. He went again on Friday then went to bed for a very early start. The thought of being with Julie controlled all of his emotions, except he dreaded coming back alone in five days. Maybe they would get so much accomplished that she could come back with him! It seemed unlikely, but wasn’t impossible. That thought led him to deep sleep in minutes.
A Job
Ryan began working at a small family-owned Cajun restaurant. One of the house rules permitted him to extend curfew, if he was working at night. Most nights, he returned at midnight after cleaning up and walking eight blocks “home.” The owner never asked anything except his willingness to work for minimum wage. The restaurant only grossed about three hundred in cash sales each night which were deposited daily, so there wasn’t a huge temptation to steal. Ryan’s money in the locker was secure, and he was surviving. Technically, he would be living with Keats for almost a year, but he didn’t plan to be there that long. He got Sundays and Monday nights off from work. This was a problem since the “working girls,” the good ones, were mostly off the streets on his days off. He needed servicing!
His prospects were good if he used some of the pawn money. He could afford most of the cheap girls, and he didn’t need a beauty queen, just someone who would do it his way. He found “Sophia” on a downtown corner on Monday night, when there was almost no traffic. She was young. She was still skinny and didn’t know how to look as sexy as the older girls, but she was the only girl out that he could find before nine o’clock. It was also raining lightly when he approached her.
They agreed on prices for different services, and he showed a role of bills that excited her. She asked about his car and a hotel, but he had neither. The central park was one block away, and she said it would be okay as long as they stayed someplace private. He agreed. Once in a grassy area near an old fountain with a couple benches, she went to work on him while he sat looking at the stars and envisioning Callie. Sophia didn’t have enough experience, and he slapped her. When she failed his expectations a second time, he hit her harder and threw her across the back of the bench, trying to take her from behind. She got scared and told him to stop. She tried to scream, but he held his hand over her mouth. She struggled and cursed, but there wasn’t anyone out to hear her muffled calls. The rain had become more intense, keeping people indoors.
A short time later, Ryan walked out of the park alone with a nervous expression on his face. It’d been a year or more since he’d expended himself, and he felt totally recharged. He wouldn’t be able to go back near the park again, but it didn’t matter: a few weeks between episodes were fine after a year without feminine attention.
There was no one on the street in either direction. The buildings were all closed, and the rain assured his security. He crossed the street and headed down a side street for the house. He wouldn’t take any crap from Keats tonight.
Terror in Lafayette
An hour before dawn, Jake packed a travel bag and set out for Mineral Wells. He’d stop at one of the Interstate rest stops for food and fuel, but he might actually be able
to be with Julie for lunch. It would be record time.
She was up early also, hoping that Jake wouldn’t be disappointed if she tied her hair back and didn’t fuss with makeup. She had posted small colored dots on everything to be moved to the garage. She’d advertised all week, and she had a lot to sell. Whatever didn’t sell, she would donate to the Women’s Rescue League. The only difficult thing was deciding on Paul’s things. Everything of his in the garage would be sold, and most of his clothes would go, but she had some things that she stored in a large plastic tote box. She also put Bobby’s letters in the tote. She would not allow it to be shipped. It would travel in the car with her to Lafayette.
She had some friends coming in the afternoon to run the sale as she and Jake moved things to the garage and front lawn. It actually seemed possible that she might be able to go back to Lafayette with him. They’d have to return when the movers arrived and to spiff up the house for closing. And then there was the ceremony, which would be done in her backyard.
He reached Mineral Wells around noon. When he arrived at her house, there wasn’t any time for romance. He commented on how cute she looked with a bandana around her forehead. Together, they had over half of the big items moved outside in a couple of hours before most of the Saturday afternoon bargain hunters started arriving. Gail and two other