The Juke (Changes Book 2) Read online

  “Philadelphia and Lancaster, primarily.”

  “Primarily?”

  “Yeah…better check Harrisburg and Mechanicsburg while you’re at it.”

  “Christ, Frank!” she teased. “You were a naughty boy, weren’t you?” He didn’t smile back.

  “I don’t know if there are any charges pending. But I just want to be sure.

  “Okay, I will check. Will call you as soon as I find out anything.”

  “Thanks, Sarah.”

  “You’re gonna stop these shenanigans now, right, Frank?” She took the countenance of a scolding mother, though it was her business to work with people who didn’t listen to authority.

  “Yeah, I’m all clean now. If I don’t have any pending cases then I’ll be even better off. Meantime, make that deal with Sac County.”

  He drove home feeling positive for the first time in a while. So long…so many years living under the threat of prison. Years of worry. Wasted years. He turned off his air conditioner and opened the window. He let the oven-like breeze blow in on him. He wanted the wind. He wanted it to wash over him and purify his breath. He wanted to let go of all the old demons. He wanted to release the fear completely.

  As he drove, the road slid under him. He was feeling a taste of freedom he hadn’t felt for some time. He thought of the deputy and could still see the eyes, see his sweat, and feel the sickening strikes of the baton. Jensen went too far that night and would have had to pay for it. Rather than face his consequences, he ended his life. He took his wife with him. Someone with so many problems in his life had been handed a badge, a gun, and the right to wield deadly force; Frank was just the match that lit his flame that night, all those years ago. Now, he could put that in his past and roll over it like this road. The road cleansed him. The road was freedom. And now he was free.

  He pulled up to the simple ranch house they were renting. He saw Perry sitting on the front porch. Perry waved at him as he pulled the car into the garage. Perry was at the door as he opened it.

  “Hi, Frank!” he shouted.

  “Hey Perry! What are you doing outside in the heat?”

  “Waiting for you to get home. Wanna play catch?”

  “Sure, in a sec. Let me get changed. Is your mom home?”

  “Yeah, she’s inside.”

  “Okay.”

  He found her in the bedroom. As he changed into jeans, he told her the news.

  “That’s fantastic, Frank,” she said. “So I don’t have to call you Chris anymore?”

  He laughed. “No, I think we’re good. Let’s see what she hears about Pennsylvania, but I think we’re in the clear.”

  “That’s wonderful news, Frank.” She sat down on the bed. “So what now?”

  “Now? Well, once I know for sure about P-A, I will file for a business license and start our own company. It’ll be a bit tight while I build our client base, but once I have enough steady work, we should be doing fine. I’ve always had a head for business.”

  “I’m so proud of you, Frank. You’ve really done well.”

  “Thanks, baby,” he said. “I’m gonna play catch with Perry now.”

  She smiled from the living room, watching Perry and Frank throw the ball back and forth. He was exactly the type of man she needed…and she knew it. He had accepted Perry as his own son. He was providing well for them. She had everything she needed. They were living in the best house she had ever lived in. Perry was in a good school and wearing clean clothes. He had friends to play with. Things could not be any better for them, and for the first time in years she could count on things…count on food, a home, and security. This was new to her.

  She went back to the bedroom and pulled the box from the back of the closet. She produced a small envelope of brown heroin and put some grains in the pewter pestle. Grinding it carefully, she then blended in the small amount of water to make it a paste. She sprinkled in milk powder, which absorbed the fluid and scraped away the powder leaving thin beads of paste. She leaned over and snorted the mixture.

  She carefully put the kit away and went back to the kitchen and started making dinner. As she cooked, she felt the warm euphoria move through her. Tingling. A gentle wave of warmth. A confidence in her life in this moment.

  She relaxed and enjoyed the buzz, a dreamlike smile on her lips.

  XXI

  “Right this way, sir,” the young officer said, opening the half-door and holding it for him. “We just have a few forms you need to complete.”

  “Thanks,” he said. He stepped through.

  He was pointed to a chair next to a desk. He sat and was handed a clipboard, with several forms stacked, then handed a pen with too little ink. He scratched out his name, her name, their address, and all the particulars.

  A tall sergeant moved into the room and sat in the chair at the desk as Frank completed the forms. He looked up as he sat, then back to his forms. He saw the sergeant wanted to talk to him.

  “You the husband?” the sergeant asked, hands on the arms of his chair.

  Frank looked up. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  Frank looked at the tall, slender sergeant for a second, waiting for another comment. There wasn’t one, so he returned to his forms. He could feel that the sergeant wanted to say more. The uniformed man leaned back in his chair and was watching him. Frank looked back up and returned his gaze.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, sergeant?” He did his best to appear nonchalant. In his head, he knew what the point of the conversation would be. It wasn’t going to be the first time.

  “I’m just wondering how a man who seems to be doing well can have a wife out buying heroin in the park.” His brown eyes looked into Frank’s, and he had the confidence only someone in power can have, knowing there would be no retribution for arrogance when you had a gun strapped to your hip and a badge on your chest. Frank knew that all too well.

  He knew he shouldn’t reply, but he did. “That’s our business, not yours.” He looked back down to his forms. He started shaking the pen to get more ink to the tip.

  “You should keep an eye on her. Wouldn’t want this in your neighborhood.”

  He again looked up and this time put the pen down. “This? What do you mean by this?”

  “You live in a good neighborhood, Mr. Joseph. I’m sure your neighbors wouldn’t like knowing they have a junkie living next door to them.”

  “Well, that’s none of their business, is it?” He could feel the tension building, and now their eyes were locked on each other’s. They were in a mental contest…a test of wills.

  “In some neighborhoods, I’d say it’s not. In yours it is.”

  “What difference does it make where we live, sergeant?”

  “It makes all the difference…we watch out for our good communities.”

  Though he again knew better, he could feel his blood coursing furiously. “I thought your job was to watch out for all communities.”

  The lean sergeant stood up. “Listen, Mr. Joseph…wise up. You got a junkie for a wife, and you live in a well-heeled neighborhood. Get her off the smack, or there will be problems.”

  He couldn’t hold back his response, though he knew he was being obstinate…dangerously so. “You listen, sergeant. I don’t care who the fuck you think you are. I pay my taxes. I work hard and provide value to the community. You think that badge gives you the right to tell me what to do with my life? Well, sorry to tell you, it doesn’t. Who the fuck do you think you are?” His volume was increasing; his ears were flushing. “Your job is to enforce the laws. That’s it. You’re not the judge; you’re not the jury. So why don’t you butt the fuck out of our business, let me fill out your fucking forms, and get my wife out of here, okay?” He half expected the sergeant to pull out his baton and attack him, but his blood was up.

  “Hold on, man, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are…”

  Both men turned when a door opened suddenly, and a gray-haired captain stepped out. The sergean
t looked at the captain, and his head dropped. No words were spoken, but the sergeant walked unbidden to the captain’s office. When he entered, the door closed.

  Frank completed the forms, scratching angrily at the paper, and handed them to the young officer, who now looked a bit blanched.

  “Sorry, sir…” the young officer said.

  Frank smiled at him, still shaking from adrenaline. “Not your fault.”

  As he sat in the waiting room, he caught sight of the sergeant leaving the captain’s office and going back to his desk; he sat silently and began to fill out paperwork.

  He heard another door open, and Mariah was brought out to him. A female officer held her upper arm with a latex-gloved hand.

  “Frank, thank God,” she said. She walked quickly and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Thank you, officer,” Frank said through her hair. “Are we free to go?”

  “Yes. Be sure to answer the summons.”

  “Will do,” he smiled. He turned and led her to the front door of the station. He could feel her hand shaking as he used his free one to pull open the door.

  “You okay, Mariah?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m just jonesing…I gotta get a hit, Frank…I’m aching all over.”

  “Do you have any at home?”

  “No, I’m out…that’s why I was scoring.” He opened the car door, and she slid in. “Can we go get some? I know a place.”

  “Mariah, you just got released…” He closed the door and came around, sliding into the driver seat.

  “Frank, I need a hit…badly…you gotta take me somewhere. I’m itching all over…”

  He thought for a moment. Getting caught buying smack after bailing her out wouldn’t be the smartest thing he’d ever done. He looked over to her, and he could see her face twitching and body jerking. “Okay, but let’s make sure it’s in another part of town…we can’t get picked up by the same cops.”

  “I know a place…get on the highway…”

  XXII

  “We’ll take two hotdogs,” Frank called out. He nodded to the people in his row as they passed hotdogs in one direction and money in the other. He handed one to Perry.

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said with a smile.

  It was a blistering July day, and he was glad the stadium was covered and air-conditioned. They chomped their hotdogs and sipped their drinks.

  “Well, I think the D-backs aren’t going to win today, buddy,” Frank said. The score was 8-2, and they were into the ninth inning.

  “It’s okay,” Perry said. “Still fun to see a game.”

  “Yeah,” and he looked at Perry, who smiled back at him. Perry had gone through a recent growth spurt and he was quickly approaching six feet, now just an inch shorter than Frank. “Let’s try to see a couple more games before the end of the season. Once you start high school, you’ll have a lot less time for these things.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  As they watched, the Diamondbacks came up to bat at the bottom of the ninth.

  “I miss my mom, Frank.” Perry didn’t look at him.

  “I know you do, buddy. I miss her too.”

  “How long before she comes back home?”

  “I can’t say. She just started on her program. I think she’ll be there at least a few weeks, if not longer.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  They heard a loud cheer as the first batter hit a blooper to right field and got on first base. Frank and Perry weren’t cheering.

  “I hope you know, this is the best thing she can be doing.”

  “I know. She needs to quit before it kills her. She told me that the day you took her to the clinic. I just miss her being home.”

  “Yeah.”

  A loud groan went up when the next batter hit the first pitch into a double play.

  “When they let her have visitors, we’ll go and see her, okay?”

  “I’d like that. Thanks, Frank.”

  On the way home, they stopped by the shop. Joseph’s Welding was a bustling business during the week, but on this hot Sunday only two welders were finishing up detail work. Frank and Perry walked through the open shop and waved to the metal-masked men, being careful not to look at the blinding arc.

  The weekend supervisor came out of the office and greeted Frank. “We’re almost done here, boss. I was just finishing up the invoices for the pipe…”

  “Don’t worry, Lamont…I’m just here to pick up a few things. Not checking on you.”

  The supervisor looked relieved. “Hot today…” he said, then turned back to the front desk.

  “Yeah, very hot,” Frank said.

  On their way to the staircase that led to Frank’s office, Perry admired an extended chromed-out motorcycle they walked past.

  “You’re making choppers now?”

  “Yeah, there’s good money in custom choppers.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he said, putting his hands on the handlebars. Frank could see his eyes sparkling.

  “Yeah, we buy these S&S motors pretty cheap, then the rest is just the pipe we already have. We build it, then take it apart to get chromed and powder-coated. Costs us about two thousand in labor and parts, and we sell them for twenty or more. Real money makers.”

  Perry was still gawking at the chrome. “Wow. Will you make me one?”

  “Your mother would kill me. Those things are death traps.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Perry stopped again and looked at a car being assembled. Frank was proud to see Perry interested in his work.

  “You like that one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That one there is a ’69 ‘Cuda. My first car. I think I might keep this one, but not sure.”

  “It’s gorgeous, but why that awful green?”

  “That was the stock color, but we mixed metallic flakes into the paint to make it a bit more modern.”

  “It really is nice…but would look better in red.”

  “Maybe when you’re ready to drive we can make something for you. I’d feel better with you on four wheels instead of two.”

  “When are you going to let me do some welding?”

  “Well, if you’re ready we can start soon.”

  “I’d like that…I want to make my own chopper!”

  “Okay, slow down,” he said with a chuckle. “You gotta learn the basics first. It takes a while to get to that level of skill.”

  As they reached the office, Frank put together some papers and notes he needed to complete that night. As he sat on his chair, Perry took the one across the desk from him. Perry didn’t see Frank look at their picture on his desk. They had only taken the picture a few months before. Perry’s large smile was offset by the tired smiles of Mariah and Frank. He noticed today how pale Mariah looked in the photo. In the corner of the frame, he had wedged in the photo of his family in Sacramento. The picture was spotted, stained, and torn. He looked at his sons and wondered if they were as tall as Perry. Or taller. Matthew and Mark were probably taller. Both would be adults now. He wondered if they thought of him. He hoped they were both in college.

  He collected the papers he needed and was ready to go when his phone rang. He picked it up when he recognized the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Frank, this is Warden Ford…how are you?”

  “Hi, warden, how are things at the penitentiary?”

  “Great, thanks. Sorry to call you on a Sunday. I was talking with the governor last night over dinner. He was asking me about the type of programs we have here at the federal pen to help parolees transition. I described the few programs we have, and I mentioned yours.”

  “Well, it’s small, isn’t it? We’ve only taken four guys. Not much of a program.”

  “Yeah, but all four of them have successfully transitioned. Don’t underestimate the success of four men leaving prison and not returning.”

  “Well, glad to help. Do you have another person you want me to work with?�
�

  “No, that’s not why I’m calling.” He paused. “The governor wants to highlight your program’s success and get it a bit of media attention.”

  “Why? I don’t understand. Four people…”

  “And you also give those great talks to new inmates. Those are immensely helpful. Right now, he’s taking some heat for the sheriff in Maricopa and his tent-city jail. He feels showing the work we’re doing with parolees might help offset some of the negative media.”

  “Ah, I see. Still, it’s small potatoes.”

  “I know what you’re saying, but little things like this make a big difference. He was hoping to get the local ABC affiliate to run a story on it. He has a friend at the station. Maybe also show one of the talks you give…if you have time.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it, I guess.”

  “Understand. Do think about it, Frank. Keep this in mind: if you save even one person from a life in prison by giving him a skill, you’ve made a huge impact in that one person’s life. Don’t we all need a hand up once in a while?”

  “Yeah, we all do.”

  “Okay, so will you give me an answer by Wednesday?”

  “Sure, will do.”

  Frank was lost in thought as they drove home. Perry was reading a comic in the seat next to him. Frank knew what the warden had meant, and he knew himself that he had relied on help from so many people. That was his motivation for working with parolees and helping to train them; he wanted to help others who were down on their luck. And he had been successful.

  But he had also spent a lot of time keeping a low profile. Too much attention wasn’t a good thing, considering Mariah’s struggle with addiction…and his own. Still, some goodwill from the community couldn’t hurt, and perhaps it would open some other doors for him. If he could get into the state and federal contracts honeypot, he could expand his business even more. It was growing quickly, but he had managed much larger operations in other jobs, and envisioned similar success with his own company. Now that he was the owner, he was truly building something to leave behind…his legacy.

  When they got home, he went to his room. It was dark and quiet. He stepped into his bedroom and sat on the bed. He thought of Mariah—he missed her smile.