The red letters of the store’s sign flickered above the entrance, and the trashcan next to it overflowed on to the sidewalk. Food wrappers, cigarettes, and broken tools littered the surrounding concrete.
“Welcome to Second City Tools where we hope your time with us is a happy one,” the cashier said as Carter walked through the door. The man wore a pair of green mechanic’s gloves, and his hair stood gelled into tiny spikes. This seemed to be some sort of attempt to cling on to his adolescence, a trivial hairstyle for a man his age. Country music blasted through the store’s PA system, Toby Keith belting out a song about America.
“I need to speak with Frank, I got a call about an interview,” Carter said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but Frank isn’t here right now, he’s out to lunch,” the cashier said.
“But, I got a call saying to come at this exact time for the interview, do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No.”
He turned his back to Carter. His gloved hands grabbed at different fliers with bold colorful fonts and promises of discounts that were arranged neatly into piles on the counter and began stapling them together and arranging them into another neatly stacked pile of completed pamphlets. Click...Click...Click...
“I’ll just browse around the store until he gets back, is that ok?”
Click...Click...Click...
White light saturated the left side of the store. Missing light fixtures shrouded the right side. Aisles of tools extended endlessly in front of Carter, a labyrinth of home improvement. Yellow caution-tape and orange traffic cones closed off sections of the floor where tile was cracked or missing. Signs that read ‘NOT FOR SALE. DO NOT TOUCH’ sat on every tool display.
He walked past an aisle whose sign read ‘Safety Accessories’. Two men stood in the middle. Both were wearing the same dark blue t-shirt as the cashier. One held what looked like some sort of knife to the other’s neck. He wore a crimson red ball cap with a white cursive ‘A’ on it. He looked up and glared at Carter who felt a chill run through his body as their gazes connected. Carter briskly turned the corner into the next aisle, and the employees continued their conversation when he was out of sight. He tiptoed to the middle of aisle, wanting to catch a piece of what the hell was going on.
“If you ever turn the radio station in the middle of a George Strait song again boy, I’ll kill ya,” a voice said.
Carter assumed it was the man in the baseball cap talking. His drawl hung in the fluorescent air, entangled in southern roots and wickedness.
“The King will be respected, understand?”
The threatened employee scurried around the corner, bumping into Carter. Only a young boy, probably no more than 17. His thick-rimmed glasses failed to hide the embarrassment and anger on his pubescent face. It seemed an overly harsh reaction for something so minor.
Carter turned around, rethinking his desire to work at this establishment, and was immediately greeted by the crimson hat.
“Need help findin anything today sir?” the man with the crimson hat asked.
“No...I’m just waiting for Frank, I have an interview,” Carter said.
“No shit? Come right this way.”
The man grabbed Carter around the shoulder, pulled him close, and shot him a wink. He was a bit dazed by the suddenness of the situation and put up no effort against this strange man whisking him away through the maze of aisles toward the back of the store.
“My name is Ronnie zan Vant, pleased to meet ya.”
The faint aroma of chewing tobacco and cheap whiskey wafted from his skin. Not an unpleasant smell, but a bit early in the day for both of them at once.
“I saw you admirin’ my hat from the moment ya walked in. Defintely a beaut. Official University of Alabama Crimson Tide memorabilia straight from the campus bookstore in Tuscaloosa.”
Carter was unsure of how to respond and just nodded in an attempt to be as neutral as possible. Ronnie stopped their momentum for a moment and looked him straight into the eyes.
“Bear Bryant and Nick Saban are the best human beings to ever walk this Earth. I ain’t ever met anyone who don’t agree ‘cept Auburn fans. You ain’t an Auburn fan are ya?”
“No sir.”
“Roll Tide!” he hollered and pumped his fist into the sky.
At the back of the store they travelled under a sign that read ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY. DEFY AT OWN RISK.’ They followed a thin hallway, and met a wooden staircase with no bottom stair. Seemed like a pretty big safety hazard. The wood bent under their feet as they ascended each step.
Ronnie pushed open the door to reveal an office with three more men, also in dark blue shirts. A sickly-looking man with almost fluorescent pale skin, greasy hair and a dark blue apron sat staring at a wall to the left of them. A mustachioed man with diamond stud earrings and a beer belly sat to the right. A robust man with a smooth mocha skin-tone, shaved head, and arm tattoos sat in the middle at a desk, his face buried in the pixels of a computer screen.
“Our new slave is here y’all,” Ronnie said. He slapped Carter’s shoulder and swatted his butt. The three men turned to observe him, synchronized, choreographed. The man in the middle whom had been on the computer elevated from his chair and shook Catrer’s hand.
“Glad you decided to come, Carter. I’m Frank, the store manager,” he said.
“Oh, good to meet you. The cashier told me you were out to lunch,” Carter said.
“I am.”
He motioned Carter toward an office chair next to him. Ronnie took a seat next to the sickly-looking man.
“It looks like you met Ronnie already, and that’s Peter next to him. They’re my assistant managers.”
The one he designated as Peter with the pale skin nodded his head and ran his fingers through his greasy hair. His bloodshot eyes drooped to the corners of his mouth. He pulled out a bottle of eye drops from his apron and applied them.
“The ogre with the mustache over there is Roy, our warehouse manager. It’s about time he went back to his cave, so we can proceed with the interview.”
Frank waved his hand and Roy obeyed. He clunked down the creaky stairs without a word. Frank rolled up close to Carter in his office chair. He still felt a bit dazed for some reason, and his hands sweat in anticipation of what was coming next.
“You a hard worker?” Frank asked.
“Yes sir,” Carter replied.
“You always on time?”
“Yes sir.”
“Do you have any previous legal troubles?”
“No sir.”
“Excellent. How would you feel about starting tomorrow?”
“Wait, what? That’s it?”
“I can tell a good egg when I see one. To be completely honest, we’re a bit desperate for workers right now, but I am more confident about you than I’ve been with anyone else in recent memory.”
“Wow...thanks.”
Carter’s head buzzed from all the compliments Frank had just showered him with. He couldn’t wait to tell Rebecca when he got home. Hospital bills were literally piling up on the kitchen counter. She hadn’t left the trailer in two weeks and her mother hadn’t left their company in a few months.
“Be here at 4 p.m. I’m going to start you out with late shifts this week. We have some truckloads coming in that I need help with. Grab a t-shirt and box knife on the desk behind you on the way out.”
“I really appreciate this,” Carter said.
Frank smiled a very sincere smile at him; something Carter took note of. He seemed like a decent human being.
“We’re always looking to lend a helping hand.”
They shook hands and Frank turned back around to his computer. Ronnie gave Carter a salute and a “Roll Tide!” Peter stared at the wall and appeared to have forgotten anybody was there.
He maneuvered his way back to the front of the store where the cashier from before continued to staple fliers, the stack taller than him now.
“Looks like I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. My name’s Carter by the way.”
“Okay,” he said never turning from his task. Click...Click...Click...
“What’s your name?”
“Ethan,” he said. Click...Click...Click...
The sun was fleeing behind the mountains as his truck galloped on to the interstate. Red, pink, and purple pastels splashed across the darkening sky. Their trailer park was on the outskirts of Desolation Springs, making it a quest every time they needed to leave the house. Stars were shimmering above his head by the time he cruised into his exit. The porch light greeted him as he pulled into the driveway. He walked up and rested his head against the pink ribbon that hung next to their door before going inside. Rebecca sat in the recliner with a blanket around her and a winter hat pulled down close to her eyes. Her mother was sprawled out on the couch snoring with the force of a thousand men on horseback. Rebecca turned around smiling. He hurried over to her and they embraced like they had been apart for years.
“I got the job, honey, I start tomorrow night,” he said.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said.
Carter picked Rebecca up off the chair and carried her to their room. She fell asleep before he even got through the door. He eased her down, afraid to break her frail and emaciated body. The world became unfocused and out of touch as he slipped into bed next to her and kissed her forehead goodnight.
The cashier from the previous day, whose name he could not remember with certainty, something like Ethan or maybe Erik, greeted him again the next day when he arrived.
“Welcome to Second City Tools where we hope your time with us is a happy one.” he said.
“I work here now. We met yesterday, remember?” Carter replied.
“Okay.”
He turned around to staple together the same stacks of fliers from the day before. Click...Click...Click...
Classic Rock played through the stereo so Carter figured Ronnie, the crazy guy with the Alabama hat, wasn’t around today. Old men in a variety of flannels, overalls, and work boots roamed the aisles followed by their spouses. The women sighed as their husbands covered every inch of every aisle. Carter reached the back of the store and crept up the rickety staircase into the office. The sickly-looking man, Peter, from his interview was sitting at the computer filtering through pictures of naked women, and biting down on his index finger. He pulled out his bottle of eye drops from his apron and applied them. Carter raced back down the stairs, wondering if he should have said something. Should he have looked at the naked women with him? Probably best to look for Frank instead. He ventured through a red door and was transported in a cavernous warehouse. His steps echoed off the concrete floor. Thousands of boxes sat on rusty shelving that stood six levels high. Only a few dim lights dangled from the ceiling. He saw the outline of two men a few hundred feet away.
Carter wasn’t exactly sure why, but he became very interested to see what was going on. He crept toward them, trying to remain out of sight behind the back stock. It was Frank and a short Hispanic man with almost as many tattoos as Frank wearing what looked like a leather biker jacket. They were standing next to the open trailer of a semi truck that was now empty, the man presumably the driver of the truck. Carter hid behind a stack of boxes and listened while they fired Spanish at each other. Frank handed the man a wad of cash, put his finger to his neck in a cutting motion, and laughed.
The truck driver grabbed a box labeled ‘Spray Paint’ from the ground in front of them, closed the trailer door, and disappeared through the emergency exit door. The truck fired up its engine and sped away. Blinding light radiated through the now vacant port where the truck trailer had been, but Frank was quick to pull down the door and return the warehouse to darkness. Carter backed away from his hiding spot once the door had shut, but tripped into a stack of boxes, knocking them over.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Frank screamed.
He tried to scramble to his feet but Frank sniffed him out before he could make his escape.
“Oh, hey Carter. Sorry about that. I thought you were someone else. Ready to get to work?” he said.
Carter nodded, afraid what would happen if he said no.
“Fill up a cart with the spray paint boxes over there and follow me.”
The boxes reeked of skunk and pine. ‘DO NOT OPEN’ was written on every one. He followed Frank through a series of twists and turns. The lights grew dimmer as they turned each corner. Frank used a large high-beam flashlight to guide the way. The warehouse had to be ten times the size of the actual store. They reached a white door lit by a single light bulb over head, and ‘DO NOT ENTER’ written on it in red paint. Frank knocked once.
“Who’s there?” a voice asked from the other side.
“It’s your boss, dumbass,” Frank said.
The door crept open and a bushy mustache peered out. It looked like the same mustache from his interview the day before. Roy, was it? Frank motioned for Carter to stay and he vanished into the room with the spray paint boxes. Carter stood in the dark hallway, waiting. The light bulb above the door flickered off and on every few minutes. A cold breeze crept through the hallway and he swore he could see his breath when he exhaled. He sat down against the wall hoping Frank would hurry up and lead them out of the torturous darkness. Smoke squeezed through the crack at the bottom of the door and the skunk and pine tree smell filled his nostrils. He contemplated knocking on the door and asking if he could come inside. He wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw.
His eyelids felt heavy and he struggled to keep them up. For a brief moment Rebecca’s image filled his head. She lay limp on the ground next to him, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Somewhere around him a bell rang as if to signify the mourning of her demise. His head throbbed with pain. He reached into the darkness, trying to stop it, but couldn’t tell where the sound originated. He fell over, smacking his head against the ground. His eyes opened and he awoke, relieved it was only a dream.
But, the ringing of a bell sounded again. He pinched his arm, hoping he was still asleep, but again a bell rang. He couldn’t see anything, only the black abyss that stretched all around. The ringing ceased, and all was quiet for a few long moments. He closed his eyes once again, hoping to block out this frantic state of mind. But, after a few moments of silence, the sound of glass shattering into a million tiny fragments forced Carter’s eyes open. He huddled against the wall, not that the wall was willing to protect him. Another long silence filled the air. He could hear his breathing echoing around the corridor. Maybe he was imagining it all. The bell rang again, loud and sharp. He jumped to his feet, now ready to flee. Children’s laughter echoed through the darkness.
“Who do we have here?” a voice asked.
“I’m not sure, looks like trouble,” a second voice answered.
Their laughter filled the hallway to the bursting point.
“I’m a new employee, I’m waiting out here for Frank,” Carter yelled in random directions.
“Likely story,” the voices said in unison.
The light bulb above him went out, and the air around him tightened. The sound of footsteps pounding on concrete came just seconds before he felt his body being tackled to the ground, the side of his face contacting the cold ground. An arm wrapped around his neck, and a rope fastened his hands together. It dug into his wrists, exposing raw flesh.
“The boss won’t be happy to know he has a thief on his hands,” one of the voices said. They erupted in laughter, a sound straight from the bowels of hell.
The white door Frank had gone in swung open, and the light bulb above turned back on. Both bodies were lifted from on top of Carter, and their laughter turned to whimpering.
“You little ingrates better have a good explanation for this,” Frank barked.
The mustachioed man, Roy, cut his hands loose and picked him up by the shirt collar, his mustache tickling Carter’s cheek. Two young boys stood looking at the ground in front of Frank. Their red hair could have scorched their scalps if it was any brighter.
“Apologize to Carter now, or I’ll hang both of you by your underwear on the flag pole,” Frank said.
“But, you told us we were security guards,” the one on the left said.
“Yeah, security guards,” the one on the right said.
“Now you’re both gonna help Daisy the rest of the night up front. She should be here now. Roy, escort these hooligans to the front before I smack their pretty little faces.”
They turned around and walked up to Carter. Their faces were plagued with freckles, their eyes a dark burgundy. They couldn’t have been older than 14.
“We’re sorry,” they said together.
“I’m Leon,” the one on the left said.
“I’m Noel,” the one on the right said.
Roy growled at them through his mustache and pushed them around the corner.
“Actually, I want you to head up front too and ask Daisy if she needs help with anything,” Frank said to Carter.
Frank stepped back into the room and slammed the door behind him. Carter hurried around the corner and followed Roy and the demon children to the front.
Her hair was the color of wheat fields at sunrise, her lips redder than cherry wine. Her thin and athletic waist accentuated her large breasts that bounced with every little movement. Carter’s breath shortened, palms moistened, and pants shrunk with each step closer he took.
“Carter,” he said.
“Daisy,” she said.
“That’s a very pretty name.”
She giggled and pointed him toward the ‘Hammers’ aisle where a stack of boxes needed to be put away. A spotlight was perpetually upon her figure. She flooded the scenery with her beauty, and the world around her sparkled. Carter couldn’t remember seeing a female in this way since the first few months he dated Rebecca, years ago. Rebecca. Her face popped into his head and he felt a knot form in my stomach. Every time he looked at Daisy he became unaware of his life. He spent the rest night making trips up front for instructions, and small talk.
“Nineteen,” she said.
“No way, I would have guessed at least twenty-one,” he said.
She blushed and looked at her feet. Carter apologized for his little knowledge of tools every time he approached her. If she had customers in her checkout line, he sat and waited his turn. At eleven o’clock she turned the open sign off, and shooed the demon children out the door. They hopped on their bikes and sped off into the distance, throwing rocks at each other as they rode. Carter drove off into the sunset toward home thinking of Daisy’s beautiful features, and Rebecca’s deteriorating health.
The next few nights were the same. Carter helped Frank unload suspicious boxes into the room with the white door in the back of the warehouse, and then was sent up front with Daisy to stock the shelves with tools he had never heard of. She laughed at his jokes. He smiled at her innocence. They took frequent smoke breaks together. She always had an extra one for him. Carter hadn’t smoked in years, and he had to wash his hands and face of the smell before returning home to Rebecca each night. It wasn’t like he was a smoker again. A few cigarettes never killed anyone.
One night, at the end of his first week, she shooed the demon children away, closed the store, and motioned for him to follow her upstairs.
“I’m going to have you help me with a few closing procedures,” she said and winked.
Carter’s heartbeat quickened as she led him to the office. A naked woman in high heels with a cigarette in her mouth posed on the computer screen.
“Sit,” she said.
Carter took a seat in the office chair behind him. She closed the door and turned the lock. Her slender legs strutted toward him, slow and seductive. Her fingers teased him, slightly lifting up her shirt and then letting it drop. He crossed his leg over his lap, trying to hide an erection. She moved his leg and climbed on top of him, and began to kiss and suck on his neck. A sweet aroma wafted from her skin, intoxicating, and irresistible. His hands cradled her sides, and she bit the tip of his ear. The slight pain tingled every nerve in his body. He hadn’t engaged in this kind of physical contact since Rebecca had become sick. Her face flashed in his mind. Daisy forced her hand between his legs. He pushed her off on to the floor and jumped out of the chair.
“This is wrong, I can’t do this,” he said.
“Why not?” She nibbled on the end of her finger and then rubbed her chest.
His body quivered. He could see Rebecca sitting on the couch at home eagerly awaiting his arrival, wondering how his day at work had gone. Daisy bit her lip and crawled on all fours toward him.
“I don’t want to get caught by Frank,” he said. He also had a wife, but couldn’t get the words to leave his mouth.
“Don’t you like to be naughty?” she asked and rubbed her face on his inner thigh.
Suddenly, footsteps came pounding up the staircase, and the door handle jiggled as if someone was trying to get in.
“Open the fucking door!” Frank screamed, his fist now attempting to break down the door.
Carter scrambled backward as far away from Daisy as possible. She jumped to her feet and let Frank in explaining that she was showing Carter cash procedures and had locked the door as a safety measure.
“Go downstairs and wait at the front door, I need to have a word with our lovely head cashier for a moment,” Frank directed.
Carter exited the room and the door closed hard behind him, shaking the walls. He rushed down the stairs, forgetting about the non-existent bottom step. His knee crashed against the floor, and his face slammed against the wall. It swelled and pulsed as he limped to the front of store.
The boy who had almost lost his life to the southern nut, Ronnie, for changing the radio station sat on the counter humming a rock song that played through the speakers.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to your face?” he asked.
“I tripped,” Carter replied through a swollen lip.
His name was Mason, and, despite his boyish looks, he was the power and air tool expert of the store. Carter mentioned the incident with Ronnie.
“He’s a southern fried asshole, I’m not afraid of him, or his threats,” he said.
After waiting for a few more minutes in silence, Mason ran to the back of the store and reappeared with a borrowed set of keys to the front door.
“God knows we could be waiting all night for those two up there. And, I’m tired of looking at your face. It’s making me sick,” he said.
He unlocked the door and let them out, leaving the key on the front counter.
“If Frank gets angry, blame Roy, he’s just a dumb brute who gets yelled at all the time anyway,” he said.
Carter sped his car home as fast as he could, hoping no highway patrolmen were on the roads. He creaked the door to the trailer open, and tiptoed to the couch where Rebecca slept. It always shocked him how she could sleep while her mother snored like Sasquatch. He stroked her arm and pecked her on the forehead. Her eyes blinked open. She smiled, and dimples formed on her cheeks.
“What happened to your face?” she asked.
“Tripped,” he replied.
“How was work?”
“Very busy.”
Carter felt like an intruder carrying her to bed. Daisy’s face and body were imprinted on his mind. He kissed Rebecca on the cheek, his head aching, and his world becoming unfocused.
He spent the next morning at the hospital with Rebecca, holding her hand as radiation pumped through her veins, watching her deteriorate by the second. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her skin had a faint glow of radioactive green. This was Rebecca’s third round, and their debt was a testament to that. Carter’s mind wandered to the night before. He had held his arms around another woman, and let her violate him. She had an intoxicating scent and a perfect shape. He looked over at feeble Rebecca, and a sharp pain entered his chest. Rebecca’s doctor, Dr. Phillip Blood, approached them in the middle of the session and asked for a minute of Carter’s time. He followed the doctor to his office and they sat down.
“I just thought I’d let you know everything is progressing as planned,” Dr. Blood said.
Carter nodded, keeping his gaze toward the floor, not expecting much else in that department.
“Also, I’m not sure how to go about this so I thought I should let you know personally that all of your outstanding bills have been taken care of,” he added.
Carter nodded again routinely, and then whipped his head up to look at the doctor.
“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t made any payments recently,” Carter said.
“I am aware of your financial struggles and was concerned at first as well,” Dr. Blood said.
He grabbed a file from his desk and handed it to Carter.
“You were given a private donation from an organization called Healing Hands that often deals in charitable activities.”
“I don’t know anyone associated with that.”
“It looks like someone who works there caught scent of your dilemma and thought you deserved help. Almost like a guardian angel, I guess.”
Carter dropped Rebecca off at home after her treatment and headed to work. He refrained from telling her the news for fear that it was somehow a scam. The cashier with the green mechanic gloves greeted him at the door as he did every day. Carter was still having trouble remembering his name. Edgar? Ernie?
“Welcome to Second City Tools where we hope your time with us is a happy one,” he said.
“This is the fifth or sixth time we’ve met, I’ve worked everyday this week,” Carter said.
“Ok,” he said and turned around to staple his fliers. Click...Click...Click...
Country music played through the stereo today. Carter trotted up to the office where Ronnie and Peter sat at the computer. They were both scrolling through naked women, and high-fiving as each new picture popped up.
“Hey fellas,” Carter said and both men turned around.
“Roll Tide!” Ronnie hollered.
He jumped out of his seat, put Carter in a headlock, and ruffled his hair. Peter pulled out his bottle of eye drops from his apron and applied them. The twang of steel guitars and banjo playing through the stereo suddenly changed to the shrieking of electric guitars, and pounding drums. Ronnie tossed Carter aside, threw his beloved crimson hat against the wall, and grabbed a box knife from the desk.
“I’m fuckin’ serious this time, I’ll kill ‘im!” Ronnie screamed.
He sprinted down the stairs with Peter and Carter in hot pursuit. Mason stood halfway down the store helping an elderly lady with garden supplies. They were not able to catch up before Ronnie pounced on the boy, knocking him and the lady into a wall of shovels and rakes.
“What the hell you, redneck piece of shit?” Mason hollered.
“I told ya what would happen boy,” Ronnie said.
“I haven’t touched the radio all day you dumb honky,” Mason said and lifted himself from the floor.
Ronnie stood up and pointed the blade at Mason. The old lady writhed in pain on the ground.
“I think I broke something,” she said.
“Shut up, lady. It’s time for this boy to pay,” Ronnie said.
Frank galloped from the front of the store, jumping on Ronnie and wrestling the box knife from his grasp. Carter and Peter helped the old lady up and Frank apologized, saying that she could have whatever she wanted in the store for free, no limit. The woman swatted him with her purse and smashed his foot with her cane. He said he could also offer her a cash settlement if she chose to not call the police. Frank grabbed a wad of cash from the vault and Peter escorted the woman to the front.
Frank roared at Ronnie to leave for the day and return the next morning to receive his punishment. He held him by his neck against the wall while he relayed this information. Ronnie scampered out the door, not even bothering to grab his crimson hat. Mason strutted triumphantly to the break room for his lunch.
“Come with me,” Frank said tugging on Carter’s shirtsleeve.
They trudged their way through the warehouse maze to the dimly lit white door, and paused in front of it. Frank knelt down, his face a nose length away from Carter’s.
“What really happened between you and Daisy last night?” he asked.
Every pore in his body discharged sweat, and his muscles stiffened. Frank’s eyes had turned into a reddish orange swirl, and Carter swore he saw smoke being pushed from his nostrils each time he exhaled.
“She was showing me protocol for dealing with cash in the office, and forgot to unlock the door when we were done, I swear on my life,” Carter said.
He placed his hand on Carter’s shoulder and breathed a deep and alleviating sigh. His legs straightened and he pulled Carter into his chest, patting him on the back.
“Good, we can’t have any employee romances on our hands. I’d have to fire you. Or kill you. Just kidding about the firing part.” He laughed.
Frank pushed open the door and ushered Carter in. The demon children sat at a desk dividing green plant buddings and white powder into small zip-lock bags.
“Well, look who it is,” one of them said.
“Our favorite thief,” the other one said.
They laughed their hellish laughs. Carter could not remember which was Leon and which was Noel. Frank shooed them back to their work and they sat down on a decrepit and deteriorating couch. Fluff was coming out from the seams and stains of undistinguishable origins were splattered across the pale yellow fabric. A coffee table stood in front of them, a multitude of lighters and lines of the white powder on its surface.
“You’re cool, right?” Frank asked.
“Yes sir,” Carter responded.
“Good, I have a knack for hiring people that are down. Take a line with me.”
Carter had never done cocaine, but if he didn’t start now he feared he could lose his job or life. Frank handed him a short and fat straw that was caked in yellowish white residue. Carter followed his lead, and put the straw to his nose, and his face to the table. He pulled as much air as he could through his nose, and snorted the powder like he was a veteran. Well, except for that fact that he wasn’t familiar with the powder up the nose sensation, and subsequently hacked up a lung from the burning in his nasal cavity and throat. Frank roared with laughter. Carter’s head buzzed and the room began to spin.
“Fuck yeah! Atta’ kid,” Frank cheered.
He slapped Carter on the shoulder and took a few more lines for himself.
Carter couldn’t feel his face or extremities. His heart accelerated, attempting to burst through his chest. He didn’t want to stand up, but he couldn’t keep his body still. The demon children began dancing around him and over the couch, making loud noises and strange faces. His head was about to spin off his body. He buried his face in his lap and begged God to make it stop.
After what seemed like hours of torment, the feeling in his body was regained. Carter lifted his head. The demon children and Frank were gone. He had no recollection of when they had left, or how long he had been sitting here.
“Feeling better?” a soothing voice asked.
Carter turned around to see Daisy sitting at the desk.
“Frank told me to take care of you, and make sure you feel better,” she said.
She winked, licked her lips, and leaped on top of Carter, pinning him to the couch. Her intoxicating aroma filled his nostrils and an electric pulse pumped through his body.
“He left for the night, so I think we should be safe.”
Carter showed up to work early the next day. He was going to tell Frank that he could no longer continue his employment. Water poured from the sky, flooding the world. The rain always made Rebecca’s body ache. She would be in bed all day and through the night.
Red and blue lights flashed in the parking lot at work. An ambulance was being loaded with a stretcher. The odd little cashier stood drenched in front of the store window with no coat, only his hands protected by his green gloves. Carter got out of his truck and walked to him. Frank stood talking to two policemen at the register inside. A crimson red hat sat in the back of one of the patrol cars.
“What happened?” Carter asked the cashier. What was his name? Evan?
“Ronnie tried to kill Mason for changing the radio station again,” he said.
“How bad is it?”
“He’ll live.”
Frank cracked the door and told them that they could go home for the night. Carter would just quit tomorrow. He ran back to the truck and vaulted into the driver’s seat. Daisy was waiting for him in the passenger’s seat.
“Holy shit! Get the hell away from me. I can’t do this anymore. I have a wife,” Carter said.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“It can’t be mine, it’s only been a day!”
“It’s Frank’s, but he knows about us.”
“How?”
“I told him.”
“What the fuck?”
“It’s not good to keep secrets.”
Carter banged his head against the steering wheel, contemplating ending his life at that very moment.
“Well, what’s he going to do?” he asked.
“Nothing, but you better not quit. You owe your life to him, and if you try to leave town he will find you.”
She slammed the door behind her and went into the store. The cop cars and ambulance drove away. Frank stared through the window. He pointed his finger at Carter, and then disappeared to the back of the store. The lights shut off a few seconds later.
The next morning Carter sat at the hospital with Rebecca. She leaned against his arm while the IV dumped toxins into her body. Dr. Blood walked in the room holding a clipboard and a smile. Rebecca sat up.
“I have some extraordinary news, the cancer is going into remission,” he said.
The doctor gave them each hugs and left them to rejoice in solitude.
“I’m going to live,” Rebecca said.
They kissed and cried and kissed some more and then cried some more. Carter had never cried so hard.
Eric Toennis is a Montana born writer that fled the Big Sky for the West Coast. He currently resides on the sleepy Siletz River outside of Lincoln City, OR enjoying greener pastures. Eric spends his days writing fiction, essays, poetry, and contemplating the vast expanse of stars, planets, and galaxies above his head. He thinks sports are pretty neat too.
