The Trouble Way Read online

  They ordered a couple of large coffees at the galley counter and took a seat in a booth along the side by the large picture windows. They sat quietly watching the yachts sail by and homes of the super-rich of Seattle who owned the mansions perched on the sides of the numerous wooded islands in Puget Sound.

  “Can I ask you something, Mr. Jake?” Ann asked, breaking the silence.

  “What’s it about; something about work or the other kind?”

  “Well, it is a little about work but also a bit of the other kind,” she said. “What is it with you and Ms. Becky? She seems to be a little over protective of you at work. Every time a girl comes up to you, if she is anywhere near, she seems to run interference and blocks her off.”

  “I think she is just a lonely woman whose husband is not very nice. She’s alright. Sometimes she can be a bit overbearing.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Jake said. “It’s also a bit on the personal side, absolutely nothing professional about it. What is it with you and Linda? You two seem to be really chummy, always huddling together and touching each other at work.”

  “She’s my friend and sometimes she’s my better friend. We just really get along. Does that bother you? Is it that obvious?”

  “Are you ---” The Captain blasted the ferry’s powerful air horn causing Ann to lurch toward Jake and attach herself to his arm. The horn was on top of the wheelhouse which was just above them on the next deck. The blast was to alert the passengers the ferry was nearing the dock and for drivers to get into their cars.

  “We’d better get a move on,” Jake said and latched onto Ann’s hand and led her to the door from the observation deck where they found the crowded stairs descending to the parking deck. They snaked their way through the other passengers, also looking for their cars, and finally threaded along the long columns of cars to Jake’s VW.

  He started the engine to get the heater going and they watched as the Captain maneuvered the ferry between the dolphins, the clusters of piling, to the dock. When the ferry was secured to the dock with immense ropes, a bell sounded, and two ramps lowered, one for the walk-on passengers and the other for vehicles. The deck hands removed the chocks from the wheels of the cars at the front and directed the drivers. They waited their turn as a hundred or so cars took turns moving by columns ahead of them. They were one of the last to debark.

  “Damn,” Ann said slapping Jake’s leg and pointing to the line of walk-on passengers on the catwalk. “Don’t look now, but there’s my roomie, Candy. Shit, this is not good.”

  Jake looked off to the side just in time to catch Candy’s wave to Ann, a shit-eating grin on her face. She was jerking frantically on the arm of a tall cowboy who turned to look just as Jake’s car disappeared behind the bulwarks of the dock.

  “Candy saw us, but I don’t think Jesse did,” Ann said. I’m sure the guy is Jesse, the jerk who keeps returning stuff to the store.”

  “Can you trust her not to say anything?” Jake was scanning the passengers as they appeared again from behind the super-structure. “I don’t see them.”

  “I trusted her when she first moved in, but I don’t think I trust her anymore. I think she sort of tricked me into letting her move in. I fell for her “poor me, I got evicted,” or her “My Mommy is mean to me,” story. I let her move in for a few weeks and it turned into months. Now, I seem to be missing stuff. I’m not sure if I lost it or if she’s getting into my shit. Just small stuff, cosmetics, and things like that. I’m getting to the point where I don’t believe anything she says.”

  “Well, not much we can do about her seeing us. Maybe you can convince her to keep quiet about seeing us together.”

  “I can ask. We’re not on the best of terms. Plus, she’s in pretty tight with Ms. Becky; she may tell her anyway. If I know Miss Candy-ass, she’ll use this little bit of information of seeing us together against me in some way.”

  “From what I’ve heard of Ms. Becky, I don’t think she would be likely to draw attention to anybody who’s fraternizing,” Jake said. “I hear she’s been known to wander out of the ol’ stable a bit herself, if you know what I mean.”

  “Her husband’s an asshole. I don’t blame her one single bit. She deserves anything she can get.”

  “What about this Jesse character? What’s he been returning?”

  “I don’t know anything for absolutely sure. I just have a sneaking suspicion he’s a big fat fraud. I know he lies. I almost went out with him once.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Jake said and rested his hand on her knee.

  “I see he discovered Candy. They’re probably meant for each other. I just wish they weren’t on the same ferry as us. Knowing Candy, this will not end good.”

  “I know, the trouble way,” Jake said as he drove out of the ferry complex and into the business district of Bremerton.

  “What’s the trouble way?”

  “It’s when things don’t end well,” Jake said. “I’m pretty familiar with things not ending well. But, Honey, we can always hope.” He gave Ann’s knee a little pat and looked over at her and smiled. “Let’s not worry about little Miss Candy Cane for now and see what the sights are around here.”

  When they headed for home, they decided to avoid a chance encounter with Candy and the Cowboy and chose to drive down south to Tacoma and hit I-5 to go back to Seattle. The sun had long set by the time they got anywhere near Seattle. When they passed the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport exit Jake looked over and saw that Ann was dozing.

  “Would you like to stop at my place for a bit? It’s still quite a ways into Seattle. We could have something to eat before I run you on home.”

  “That sounds nice. I am getting hungry,” Ann said.

  So, they took the I-405 exit and headed to Renton where they stopped at a pizza place and got a pepperoni pizza to go before arriving at Jake’s place.

  “Sorry, my place isn’t the grandest. But, it was the first place I came to when I got to town and I was beat from the trip. So, I took it.”

  Ann looked around at the studio’s one large room with a nook for a kitchen and a small dining table in the corner. “You keep it very neat, Mr. Jake. No need to apologize.”

  “The price was right too. I was running on empty in my bank account at the time. I could probably afford something a little bigger, but I’m not one much for change. So, I stay here. It suits me fine.”

  “We’re all running on empty at one time or another,” Ann said.

  It wasn’t long before they had settled around the dinette table and started in on the pizza.

  “How about some tunes?” Jake asked. “I’ve got a bunch of country if you’re interested.”

  “Sure, anything is fine.”

  Jake put on a Willie Nelson record and they sat eating and listening to the music.

  Jake put the dishes in sink. “I’ll get them later. Care to dance?”

  “Sure, but there’s not much room,” Ann said.

  “There’s a small lounge with a two-man band over by the office. This place used to be a motel until they turned it into apartments.” Jake said. “It’s on the other side of this section of apartments … easy walking distance.”

  “Okay, that sounds good; a chance to work off a little of this pizza. Are you sure they allow dancing in there?”

  “Sure, there’s a band in there on weekends. I go in there once in a while after I get off work.”

  “Isn’t that convenient,” Ann smiled at him, “a lounge within walking distance of your apartment.”

  He held her hand and coaxed her to rise and he led her from his apartment and they walked arm-in-arm down the sidewalk and around the end of the complex to the lounge. They could hear music as they neared.

  “We’re in luck, a country band,” Jake said.

  When they entered Jake’s apartment, Ann collapsed backward onto the bed. “I’m bushed. This has been one long day.”

  Jake sat down beside her and she grabbed him and pulled him t
oward her and they kissed.

  “Thank you for the nice day, Mr. Jake. I especially liked the ferry ride. It was wonderful. It was so beautiful out today.”

  “You’re welcome. I especially liked dancing with you,” he said and leaned over her and kissed her again.

  “You know, Ann, you could stay here tonight. You aren’t working tomorrow, are you?”

  “I don’t know if I should,” she said as she pulled his head toward her again.

  “Well, you don’t have to make up your mind right away,” he said and rose and found a nice blues record for the player.

  It was after nine am when Ann woke. The sun shining through the cracks in the curtains had hit her eyes.

  “I think I’ll spend the night with you, Mr. Jake,” Ann whispered into his ear, waking him. “And, I think I would like to have another horizontal dance with you as well, if you would be so kind, please.”

  “I’m glad that you decided to spend the night. Let’s see if we can try something a little different for this morning. Maybe something in a waltz. Care to join me in the Tennessee Waltz, Ms. Sandal?”

  “I’d love to dance with you, Mr. Jake.”

  “Excuse me for just one second while I request the song from the band.”

  Chapter 8 Candy Lane I ain’t your maid any longer, bitch. You ignorant slut, if you only knew. They call her the salad girl.

  1970’s

  The instant she heard the door click shut behind Ann, Candy kicked the covers off the hide-a-bed to the floor, jumped out, and bee-lined it into Ann’s bedroom and headed straight for the closet. She shoved the sweaters aside and grabbed the container from the top shelf. The last time she made a “withdrawal,” the container was half-full. Now, it brimmed nearly to overflowing with coins and bills. She ignored the change and spread the loose bills on Ann’s bed. She quickly gathered them into a stack, separating the fives, tens, and twenties onto one side of the bed and leaving the ones on the other. With the quick hands of a retail checker, she straightened the bills, aligning them unconsciously in the same direction, face up, counted two-hundred ninety-five dollars, and began to stuff the wad into her front pocket. She hesitated, looked back at the ones, grabbed five singles and added them to the stack and shoved the remaining ones back into the jar with the coins, consciously fluffing them up to create the illusion of volume.

  She ignored the clothes in the closet and those in Ann’s dresser and went directly to the cosmetic drawer where she selected her preferred colors of lipstick and several other choice cosmetic items. Satisfied she had everything she wanted from Ann’s bedroom, she moved on to the kitchen where she collected various kitchen utensils she knew she would need to set up her new household.

  She crammed her clothes in the one suitcase she owned and the remaining items into paper bags she swiped from Big Richards.

  She went to the cupboard and took a box of Cheerios and filled a bowl and got some milk from the refrigerator and sat to have breakfast, her last at Ann’s apartment. When she finished with all she wanted, she left the remaining cereal floating in what was left of the milk in the bowl. She flipped the spoon on the table beside the half-empty carton of milk, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and tossed it into the cereal bowl.

  Candy made one last tour of the apartment. She gathered up the paper bags of clothing and took them down to the parking lot where the green Ford pickup was parked and threw the items on the floor on the passenger side. She made a final trip back up the stairs to the apartment for the suitcase, skirted the rumpled hide-a-bed and the blankets lying on the floor. She stepped out the door, stopped, went back into the apartment. She walked into Ann’s bedroom to the bedside stand where she pulled out the toy wrapped in the blue wash cloth she had such a good time on one of her first nights at Ann’s. She dug a bit deeper and retrieved the baggie that Ann had stashed there and unzipped the corner of the suitcase and slid in the two prize articles. When she left the apartment for the final time, she left the door slightly ajar, descended the stairs, and tossed the suitcase in the bed of the truck and hopped into the cab.

  “I ain’t your maid any longer, bitch. Clean your own fucking apartment. I’m outa here.”

  After pumping the gas a couple of times, she cranked the starter and the engine coughed and died.

  “Goddamned piece of shit.”

  On the third try, it roared to life, she dropped it into low, hit the petal, and left a short strip of burnt rubber in the parking lot.

  She turned right on Delridge Way and caught the freeway for the thirty-minute drive southeast of Seattle to the apartment she was, as of tonight, sharing in Renton with Jesse.

  When she accelerated through a yellow light, after the exit off the freeway, she looked in the rearview mirror. “Shit.” She pulled to the side, rolled down her the window, and began rifling through her purse looking for her license as she waited for the policeman.

  “Hello Miss. Kill the engine please. Could I see your driver’s license and registration please?”

  “The light just turned yellow and I couldn’t stop. Candy said, straining her neck to look back at the officer standing behind her comfort zone as if he were expecting her to pull a revolver on him. “This isn’t my truck, Sir, it belongs to Jesse Martin. He just let me use it for the day. What did I do? Was I speeding?”

  “Your license please, Miss,” the patrolman said.

  She resumed rifling through her bulging purse and finally came up with her license and handed it to the officer. He took it and walked back to his cruiser and began talking on his radio. After a few minutes he approached the truck again.

  “Miss Lane, I am going to give you a warning citation for a burnt out stoplight and license plate light. You will have ten days to get it fixed and, after that, if it has not been repaired and you are stopped again there will be a citation and a fine.”

  “Excuse me, this is not my truck, Sir.”

  “The citation is for the truck, not for you personally. However, if you are driving and you are stopped again, you will be ticketed if the repairs have not been made. My advice to you is to get the lights fixed,” the policeman said and handed her license and the “fix-it” citation to her.

  She threw the ticket on the seat beside her, cranked the starter, and gunned the engine. She glanced in the mirror and pulled into traffic.

  When she got to the apartment, she walked in and saw Jesse lying on the couch watching TV, eyes glued to the screen with a beer can sitting on the coffee table. She stood near the couch and waited until he shifted his eyes to her.

  “Hey Babe, grab me a beer, would ya?”

  “This is yours.” She tossed the ticket onto the coffee table and turned toward the kitchen.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s for your burnt out taillight. I thought you were going to get that fixed.”

  She returned with a Rainier. “Starting a bit early are we?” She set the can beside the empty.

  Jesse rose on his elbow, glanced at the ticket and left it lying on the coffee table and grabbed the Rainier. “Don’t worry about it, Candy Cane, it’ll get it fixed. I’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  He took a long swig and lay back, resting his head on the throw pillow and looked back at the TV.

  “Well, Jess, you better. You got ten days.”

  “I swear to God, Ann, I ain’t stole nothing from you.”

  “You’re a lying bitch.” Ann stood face-to-face with Candy in the employee lounge. “You’re not the goody-two-shoes you want everyone to think. You’re a fuckin’ thief and a liar.”

  “Honest, Ann, I didn’t take nothing. I may have left the door unlocked, but that was not on purpose, I swear. It was an accident ... honest.”

  “I don’t believe you and I’ll get you back.”

  “Please believe me, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Candy said to Ann’s back as she strode out of the lounge, leaving Candy standing, still holding her jacket when Ms. Becky walked in to in
vestigate the disturbance.

  “What is heaven’s name is wrong with Ann today?” Ms. Becky said. “She nearly knocked me over a second ago.”

  “I don’t know what is wrong. She just went off on me. She accused me of stealing from her. I would never do such a thing, Ms. Becky. She has been so nice to me and gave me a place to live. I think she’s on her period or something. I know she’s having boy trouble. She told me.”

  “I think Ann must be having some other problems too,” Ms. Becky confided as she looked over her shoulder. “She has been acting a bit strange lately. She’s been late quite often this month and she’s called in sick several times. Please don’t say anything to anybody. I’m really not supposed to talk about personnel matters, but Candy, you have been so helpful lately, I’m a very good judge of character and am sure I can trust you.”

  “My lips are sealed on anything you tell me. Ms. Becky, I don’t mean to change the subject, but I’ve been wondering if there might be a department that I could work in instead of working in the stockroom.”

  “Actually, Candy, Mr. Hedd and I have been considering some positions on the sales floor that might be a good fit for you. We have one position in cosmetics and another in the garden area,” Ms. Becky said.

  “Oh, I’d like cosmetics,” Candy. “Please, please, please. Could you put me in cosmetics? I’d love that.”

  “We’ll see what we can do. There will be some moves announced soon but don’t mention it to anybody; nothing has been decided yet.

  “I am always happy to help you, Ms. Becky. You can be sure I won’t say anything to anybody. My lips are sealed, Ms. Becky. Can I tell you something, Ms. Becky?”

  “Why of course you can, Candy, what is it?”

  “I’m afraid that Ann might try to get me fired,” Candy said.

  “Honey, you don’t worry your pretty little head about that. I will take care of you. You are one of my best employees, Candy. I will make sure that you don’t get fired, and I do have a bit of influence in that area. I am the personnel manager, you know. You aren’t stealing anything, are you?” Ms. Becky said chuckling at her own joke. “Just kidding, sweetheart. Not to worry.” Ms. Becky walked out of the employee lounge and left Candy alone.