Page 47 of One Last Chance

Chapter 17

On Monday,everything started falling apart in slow motion. Since I’d had so much trouble finding a job, Breaker had set me up with the highway maintenance crew—or the Roadkill Crew, as they affectionately called themselves—which was supposed to be year-round, full-time, minimum-wage work. It was crap, but it would fulfill my obligations for the moment.

But when I showed up to work early Monday morning, the foreman gathered the dozen or so of us together.

“Hate to break it to y’all,” he said. “But the city’s making budget cuts. They’re under the impression that we can keep the highways and byways clear with a four-man crew. Johnson, Steward, and Franks—y’all have been here longest, so you’ll stay on. The rest of you—I’m sorry to tell you that this’ll be your last week. I’ll give you time off with full pay for any interviews you can get this week.”

I clenched my jaw and the foreman sighed.

“I know some of you are here on work release. I hate to screw that up for you. I’ll write letters of recommendation for all of you—you’re all good workers, and I hate to have to do this to you. Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll do everything I can to lessen this blow.” He went on and on. All short sentences, saying the same thing in small amounts of words. But at least he was trying. I knew there were many out there who’d cut their workers off without batting an eye or wasting another dollar.

I wanted to be grateful to him for being different, but I knew it wouldn’t matter one way or another. Barely anybody in town was hiring and those who were hiring, certainly weren’t hiring convicts. I’d been through this circus already. At least I still had a place to live, though, and some savings since Leroy still wasn’t charging me rent.

Of course working for the Roadkill Crew meant that any work I did for Leroy had to be done late in the afternoon or evening. I got back to the motel at four in the afternoon and was showered and changed by five. Usually Leroy would have a list of basic handyman things that he needed done waiting for me when I came downstairs—but today, Leroy was waiting for me with wild, angry eyes and restless, scratching fingers.

“Kash! Getchur ass in my office!” Leroy spun on his heel a little too fast and tottered, cussed about it, and started scratching his arm like his bone itched.

I took a couple deep breaths on my way over to him. It’s one thing to deal with him any ol’ day. It’s another thing to have to put up with his antics when I, myself, wasn’t in the best of moods.

“What’s up, boss?” I asked with casual caution.

Leroy whirled on me, his eyes wide and unfocused. He scratched his scalp, sending flakes of dandruff snowing down over his shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you to fix the cabinets in the breakfast room? Breakfast room cabinets, that’s what I said. I was just in there, and the fucking handle came off in my hand. You call that fixed, boy? Do ya?”

“I told you I only got half of them done. I was about to finish the rest of them. You still got the handle?”

“What do I look like, a handle collector?” The way he was scratching himself was starting to make me itch.

“All right, that’s fine. I found extras in the basement, it’s all good. I’ll get those finished now.”

Leroy grabbed me by my collar and yanked me toward him, our noses nearly touching. I raised my eyebrows, tampering the anger that was boiling in me. “You don’t want to do this, Leroy.”

“Don’t tell me what I want! I’ll tell you what I want, you ungrateful ass. I want you to earn your keep! You know why I let you stay here rent free, don’t you?”

I pulled his hands off my collar and took a step back. “So you don’t have to pay a contractor to maintain this place, I figure.”

His mouth twisted in disgust. “No! I don’t give a crap about this place!”

“Hell, Leroy, now I know you aren’t feeling like yourself. This place is the only thing you do give a crap about.”

He passed a hand over his eyes, trembling. His whole demeanor changed in an instant, and suddenly he was begging me. “Look, Kash, I just need a little help, that’s all. My guy…he ain’t come through in a while, and I’m hurting. I know you know how to cook. Just whip up a little something to take the edge off, would you?”

I shook my head. “Sorry man, not a chance. My PO’s got eyes everywhere, and I’m not about to risk everything on a batch of anti-itch, if you get my meaning.”

His fists clenched and his eyes bugged. “But that’s why you’re here! I let you stay here ‘cause we got history! You’re supposed to be loyal, what ever happened to that, huh?”

“Prison,” I said shortly. “Sorry, Leroy. You’re just gonna have to suffer.”

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Leroy’s twitchy fingers instantly curled into a fist and he launched a blow at my face. I caught his wrist, twisting his arm behind him, but he was slippery. He pulled from my grasp, tossing a kick at my knee. He missed, hitting me in the thigh instead, which almost, but not quite, threw me off-balance. Jutting out a hand, I caught his foot, and with way more ease than should have been possible, I flipped him up so he landed on his chest. He struggled to catch his breath, making it clear as day that I’d knocked the wind out of him.

“Now,” I said, breathlessly. “Was that worth it?”

Leroy’s face twisted. He gasped and he groaned and eventually got some air into his lungs. His fingers still shaky, he swept them under his nose. “What the fuck, man? Seriously, what the hell?”

I rolled my eyes and yanked him to his feet, then dragged him to his chair. He was rubbing his chest, now and his eyes were full of unshed tears.Pathetic, I thought. But the word weighed heavy on my conscience. He probably wouldn’t be in the shape he was if it hadn’t been for me and Hunter enabling him all those years ago. As I looked at him, even more guilt twisted in my stomach. How many people? How many lives? How many deaths had we caused dispensing drugs to people like Leroy?

My mind swerved to Hunter and the fact that he was at the top of the list. Had we lead a different life, he’d still be standing here today. I shook my head, tried not to allow the guilt to consume me, not that I didn’t deserve it. I’d done my time for a crime Ididn’tcommit and most of my headspace had been there. Sure, I thought about the drugs, the effect they had, the things they indirectly took away, but as I looked at Leroy, I realized that I haven’t really been punished for the effects of my past.

Leroy’s head hung limp, cradled in his hands. His breath was shallow, and the shakes had taken him over once more. I shook my head for the millionth time.

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