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Carter
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I lie in bed, wide awake, and staring at the ceiling. Then, I bring my phone up to my face and watch the video again.
Taryn dancing with some guy at the club, his hands all over her. Then another guy, and another. While I’d been eating late-night takeout alone earlier, my ex, Richelle had texted me. A video was attached with a caption: Isn’t this your jailbird friend’s sister? She’s really hoeing it up tonight! She included a laughing emoji face.
I really regret keeping photos of me, Eric, and Taryn in my house. The psycho had asked way too many questions about Taryn while we were together.
Of course I had watched it. Taryn drunk and dancing with a few different guys. The crazy heifer had gone through the trouble of making a compilation of videos of Taryn throughout the night.
She looked really drunk. I put my food down and immediately left, showing up to her condo to make sure she was okay. I was more than relieved to see she’d hired a car and not driven herself. That would have definitely sent me over the edge, especially since she more than knows better after what we went through with Eric.
I put the phone down and contemplate what she said tonight... I took her virginity? So I was right. The blood I saw in the bathroom wasn’t just her maybe starting or ending her cycle. It was her innocence. And yes, I just left. I didn’t believe it was true. She was twenty-one back then after all. Don’t most girls start having sex at like sixteen?
I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I feel like an asshole all over again. But there’s nothing I can do to change it now. What’s done is done.
Lying here, I wonder if she’ll remember what I said about her mom’s funeral. About me being there. Will she be upset? She is already clearly pissed off I hadn’t shown—and she has the right to be.
I’m getting a headache from all this overthinking. I should have popped a couple of her Tylenol myself.
The phone buzzes in my hand. Richelle.
Maybe if I answer she’ll leave me alone.
“Yeah?”
“God. Finally! Why are you ignoring my texts and calls?” she whines.
“What do you want, Richelle? It’s two in the fucking morning.”
“I want to see you. Can I come over?”
I sigh. “What part of we aren’t together anymore are you not getting? Stop calling and texting or I’ll block you.”
“I’m pregnant.”
I freeze, panic taking over. I do some fast math in my head. I haven’t laid eyes on her, let alone touched her in six months. Surely, she’d have contacted me way before now, and would be showing.
Right?
“You’re a liar,” I seethe, but then quickly pull up her Facebook page. The most recent picture she posted was a group photo of her and her siblings at her brother’s college graduation. She’s in a white tight-fitting dress and it’s dated a week ago. Richelle is very thin so a baby bump would surely be showing, but instead, I see a shadow of her hipbones through the dress. No way she’s pregnant, and if she is, it’s recent and it certainly isn’t mine.
“Yes, I am, baby,” she purrs.
“Well, it’s not mine. Now, leave me alone—”
“Did you get my video? Was that your friend’s sister? She and her girlfriends were being real club sluts tonight.”
That pisses me off. Dancing and cutting loose doesn’t equal slut. Taryn had gone home alone.
“I’m done. Don’t. Call. Me. Again. In fact, lose my number.”
I angrily end the call, put it on silent, and toss my phone onto my nightstand.
No way that psycho is pregnant and it’s mine.
Right?
***
Declan and I sit in the beer garden of a local street fair we attend every year. It’s a great way to try new beers and even some wines. The area of town is older, with mature trees that provide plenty of shade. I’m grateful it’s not raining like it usually does on Memorial Day weekend.
“This one is too fruity for me,” Declan comments, setting his beer down.
“What is it?” I ask. “Mine’s pretty good. Not too bitter or sweet.”
“Not sure, something with oranges infused is what the guy said. I’d rather drink a Blue Moon with an orange in it than that. Definitely fell flat.”
Admittedly, we are both drink snobs, mostly beer. The Silver beers from my friend Lincoln’s brewing company are my favorite. There isn’t one in the bunch that’s bad.
I jut my chin at the vendor booths lining the street. “Wanna check out the tents after this?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Sure.” He looks around. “It’s so crowded. Hot today, too.”
“At least it’s not raining,” I comment.
“True.”
He picks up his beer and drinks it anyway, and once we’re both finished, we begin walking through the street. Couples holding hands and people pushing strollers surround us. Little kids run with ice cream cones or snow cones. One is eating a very large ear of corn on a stick and I laugh because the thing is as big as his head.
I stop when Declan does at a booth selling beaded jewelry.
“My mom loves this type of stuff,” he says, fingering a necklace with multi-colored beads.
“Those are all hand-dyed wood and I stitched the necklace myself.”
We turn to see an older lady dressed very hippie-chick smiling at us. Her long gray braid lies over her shoulder.
“It’s really cool,” Declan says sincerely.
My phone rings in my pocket and I pull it out. The screen reads Unknown Number.
“I swear to God, Richelle, if you are trying to get me this way...” I mutter under my breath before I answer, “Carter Lockwood.”
A robotic voice comes on the line. “This is a call from an inmate at the Colorado State Correctional Institution. Would you like to accept? Press one. If not press two to decline. Press three to permanently block.”
I quickly scramble to push 1, as the sunlight is making it hard to see my phone screen.
“Hello?”
“Carter? Hey, it’s Eric.”
I smile to myself. Who else would it be?
“How you been, man?” I ask, then cringe.
“As well as can be expected,” he responds. There’s a lot of background noise, along with me being outside, and I can barely hear him.
“Hang on a sec, Eric.” I look at Declan, point to the phone, then to a shop nearby, an art gallery.
He nods in understanding as he continues to talk to the hippie lady.
I step into the quiet gallery and find a corner where I won’t disturb anyone.
“Sorry, I was outside and could barely hear you. Too many people around.”
“Oh, cool. You out to lunch or something? I can call you back.”
I shake my head. “No, just the Memorial Day street fair thing.”
“Okay, well, I won’t keep you. First, I wanted to say sorry for that email I sent you. It’s cool if you couldn’t make it to Mom’s funeral. I know you’re a busy guy.”
“Listen, Eric. I was there. Taryn didn’t see me, and I wanted it that way. I hung back in the shadows to pay my respects quietly. I realized later I should have been there. For her. For you. To stand in for you, and for that I really am sorry.”
“No, no. It’s all good. But I’m glad you were there. It does make me feel better, man.”
I sigh in relief. I shouldn’t need his approval, but he’s been a lifelong friend and I don’t want any shit hanging between us when he gets out. “I’m glad, too.”
“Listen, I do have another reason for calling. Taryn told me she got a job at your company, and I think that’s super cool. She was so bummed when the law firm laid her off, so thank you for that.”
“Yeah, yeah. She’s a great asset, I wish I would have hired her right out of college,” I say honestly.
“Well, she must have told you I’m getting out in a little over ten months from now, right?”
I’m surprised. “No, she didn’t tell me. That’s great. And a long time coming. Do you need anything?”
“Yeah, man. I need a job. It’ll speed along the release process if I have a job to go to. My caseworker needs it for my release plan.”
“Are you asking me for a job?” I ask, stunned.
“Well, yeah. I mean, even just temporarily. Something I can do to get back on my feet until I find something more permanent.”
“Okay, but your degree is in sports medicine. Do you know anything about computers?” I ask.
He laughs and sounds nervous. “No, not really, man. But I’ll do anything. Empty trash, clean bathrooms, sweep floors, answer phones. I don’t care.”
He sounds really sincere and a little bit desperate. I decide I’ll find him something to do. He’s never been much of a blue-collar guy, and in fact, was about to go back to school to become an actual sports medicine doctor and not just do physical therapy and kinesiology before he got locked up. He could probably help Lisa in HR doing paperwork, that seems easy enough. Scheduling interviews and such.
“I’m sure we can find something for you. I have a janitorial service for the stuff you mentioned, but we have other jobs. I’ll fit you in, man.”
“Oh, shit, Carter. That would be so amazing! Could you email me the name, address, and phone number of your company so I can give it to my caseworker?”
“Sure, but is someone going to be coming by the job to make sure it’s legit or something?” I ask, concerned.
“Nah, the parole officer will come by the house to make sure it’s fit for me to live in, but not the job. I think the caseworker Googles employers and shit.”
I relax. Not that I have anything to hide, but it’s something I don’t need. It would out Eric as a felon and it is none of the other employees’ business to know that once he gets hired. I wouldn’t want him being treated any differently.
The phone beeps loudly.
“Fuck, that’s my one-minute warning. I’ll be looking for your email,” Eric says.
“Sure, it won’t be until Monday when I get to work, though, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, yeah, no problem at all. I better go.”
“Okay, good talkin’ to you,” I say sincerely.
There’s a pause so I’m about to end the call when I hear, “Carter?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Ride or die, bud.”
He chuckles and hangs up.
“Why are you all smiley?” Declan asks, approaching me holding a small paper bag.
“That was my friend Eric.”
“The guy in prison?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “He’s a lifelong friend who made a terrible mistake. He gets out in like ten months and needs a job.”
“Yeah? What can he do?” Declan asks.
I pocket the phone and leave the gallery, waving an apology to the old guy who’d been side-eyeing me the whole time I was on the phone.
“He’s got a sports medicine degree. Was doing therapy and shit for one of the minor league teams around here,” I answer as we head back into the street to peruse the booths once more.
“Hell, we’re always looking for therapists, especially if they specialize in sports medicine,” Declan says, stopping in front of a food truck that sells carnival-type snacks.
“Oh, my God. I’m so dumb. I should have told him I’d talk to you.” I shake my head.
He chuckles. “I’m only the assistant hospital administrator for CU Health for the entire Denver Metro area. But, hey. I’m used to being chopped liver with you.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing. “But... can you guys hire convicted felons?” I look around and lower my voice. “Eric killed a woman, Dec. Not on purpose, but she’s dead nonetheless.”
He chews his lip. “Yeah, that could be tricky. If it was some lower-level stuff like tax evasion or something it probably wouldn’t be an issue. I do know we have some felons working in our janitorial and fluid cleanup areas in the ER. We have a program that works with the state to train and hire them. But for a bigger paying job like therapists, I’m not sure.”
“Could you get back to me on it? It’s not a big rush, he doesn’t release until, like March of next year, and I told him I’d give him a job doing something at Lockwood Tech, but medicine is where his experience is.”
I lift a shoulder. “We could go visit him if you want. You could meet him yourself.”
We get to the window and he orders a funnel cake. “Do you want anything?”
I glance at the menu. “Sure, I’ll take a churro. Haven’t had one in years.”
Declan pays the man and he hands us the food. We keep walking.
“Visit a prison? Shit. That actually sounds kinda gangster, never done that before.”
I laugh and clap him on the back. “That’s what I like about you, Dec. You’re always down for new shit, no matter how dangerous it is.”
“It’s not dangerous though. There’s guards and shit there, right?”
I laugh at him. “This from the guy who snowboarded down the most dangerous and steepest hill in Aspen and narrowly missed three trees on the way down.”
“You have a point,” he replied, picking off a piece of his funnel cake and popping it in his mouth.