The Trouble Way Read online

  “No guy, I’m going over to Linda’s place. And, you are welcome, Candy.” Ann walked over and gave her a hug. She extricated herself from Candy’s enthusiastic embrace and turned to leave. “I should be home by eleven.”

  Candy could hear the sound of Ann’s footsteps disappear to nothing.

  “Yessiree, this will do just fine,” she said and walked straight to Ann’s large bedroom.

  Standing at the foot of Ann’s bed, she scanned the room. To her right was a dresser with a large mirror and a straight back chair in front where a person could sit. A table lamp was on each side, like one would see in movies where the actresses would apply their make-up. Three drawers were on each side. To her left was a closet. When she turned further to her left, there was another dresser, taller than the first with five drawers. On a nightstand was a lamp with a pink lampshade with frills hanging from the edges, a phone, a Big Ben clock, and, next to an ashtray, an open pack of Marlboros. Absentmindedly, she picked up the flip-top box, took a cigarette out, lit it, tossed the box down, and lobbed the match into the ashtray. She looked back at the box, bent, and picked it up and took two more cigarettes and put them in the pocket of her blouse.

  She meandered around the bedroom looking at photos on the dressers and glanced out the window at the tall pine trees while taking several drags on the cigarette. She stopped in one corner and surveyed the room. She wagged a finger at each dresser, finally settling again on the nightstand. “Well, let’s see what secrets we are keeping.” She bent and slid the top drawer open. It was stuffed with handkerchiefs, lipstick, Kleenex, folded hand towels, and when she lifted a pink handkerchief, she discovered a half-empty container of birth control pills. “Annie, Annie, Annie.” She closed the top drawer and pulled open the second. She picked up the object neatly rolled in a light blue washcloth. “Oh Mama.” She examined it, caressed the smooth shiny business end, turned it bottom up, flicked the switch, and felt its buzz before flicking the switch off and tossing it onto the bed. Nestled in a corner, beneath another hand towel was a two-finger lid of pot, two packs of Zig-Zags, and a beautifully beaded roach clip. “Naughty, naughty, naughty, naughty.” She took the baggie with the newfound treasure and put it on the nightstand.

  Going around the room, she methodically examined the contents in each dresser drawer. Satisfied she knew the location of everything she might need, especially the cosmetic items, she closed each drawer and went to the closet. Since Ann was not her size, Candy did not see the need to secrete anything from the closet but when she moved some sweaters on the top shelf, she saw a large plastic peanut container where Ann apparently stashed her tips or spare change. The bills were all awry. She quickly counted over two hundred bucks, pulled out a couple of the ones and fives and stuffed them in the ass pocket of her jeans, and tossed them back, giving them a good mix, confident the bills would not be missed. “Always good to know the location of the vault.”

  Satisfied she learned everything she could glean from Ann’s bedroom, she meandered back to the bed, sat and reached for the pot. She rolled a joint and carefully put the contents back into the drawer exactly as she had found them and went back into the living room. On the backside of the room was a sliding glass door leading to a small deck. Pulling a chair close to the door, she kicked her shoes off, sat, and lit the joint and blew the smoke into the rain threatening Seattle evening.

  After a few tokes, she carefully doused the burning end on the metal door railing, twisted the paper on both ends, and put it carefully in her pocket, and replaced the chair.

  She fingered through Ann’s music and picked a Beatles album and slid the record from the sleeve and set it playing and danced back to the bedroom.

  Candy stood beside the bed and undid the button and zipper of her jeans and wiggled them over ass and kicked them off. Next came her panties. She sat on the cool comforter and picked up the object she threw there earlier. She examined it, got up and went to the bathroom where she gave it a quick hot soapy rinse in the sink, dried it, and returned to the bed. “I think I’ll crank up this little beast and take it for a test drive up the walls,” Candy said and giggled in anticipation. Paul McCartney began serenading her with Hey Jude. She slid the switch into low gear and listened a moment to the hum, turned the delivery end toward her getting end, dug her heels in, tightened her ass, and by the time she hit high gear, she charmed herself out of multiple screaming orgasms. Exhausted, she squirmed herself under the comforter, flopping back on the cozy feather pillow, and closed her eyes.

  A lightning flash and the sound of the pouring rain on the window jolted her awake. Light from the street shone into the room and she looked at the clock. “Yikes.” She flew off the bed and patted the comforter straight, pulled on her jeans, stuffing her panties into a pocket, scrambled into the bathroom and rinsed the dildo off and had just replaced it in the nightstand when she heard Ann’s key in the door. She quickly left the bedroom and hurried to the hall closet and was reaching for the sheets and blankets.

  “Hi, Ann. Eleven already? Did you have a nice time? I was just about to fix my bed.”

  “I hope you weren’t too bored here all by yourself,” Ann said as she waited for Candy to collect her blankets, then put her jacket on a hanger in the closet.

  “No, I found a few things to keep myself entertained,” Candy said. “Paul and I had a wild time.”

  “Ann, do you think I could catch a ride to work with you?” Candy asked, looking at Ann in the reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  “Sure. Have you had any word on your car? Ann said. She looked at her watch. “I really need my bathroom, Candy. I don’t want to be late for work.”

  “I’m sorry honey, I’ll be out of here in a flash. Yeah, it’s toast. The guy said something about a ron being thrown out.”

  “That’s a rod, Candy, a rod,” Ann said as she stood in the doorway.

  “Well the rod is broken and it would cheaper to buy another car than replace the motor. He said he had a few cars at the shop that I might be interested in.

  “Well, I have to get ready for work. Maybe you could finish up in the kitchen. There is a mirror there. If you want a ride, you better kick it into high gear. I’m nearly ready to go. I don’t want to be late.”

  “I just don’t know how I can afford another car at the moment.” Candy said, ignoring Ann’s request to move to the kitchen and continued to work on her face. “I have to find a place to live.”

  “Things will work out, they always do,” Ann said, stood a moment longer, then turned toward her bedroom to use the dresser mirror for the final touches on her makeup.

  Candy caught Ann’s reflection in the mirror as she left the doorway, smiling to herself and went back to applying her lipstick.

  “Candy, tomorrow, you will have to give yourself more time in the morning to get ready.”

  “I want the hide-a-bed collapsed, not just made, and the bedding put in the closet. I really don’t want the living room to look like a typhoon whipped through here.”

  “You are starting to sound just like my mom,” Candy said.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Ann said.

  “Oh, nothing ... nothing. I will make up the bed as soon as we get home from work, I promise. I’m such a loser. I’m so sorry; I promise I will do better, cross my heart.”

  Ann rushed toward the back of the store to punch in. Candy was on her heels.

  “Damn,” Ann said as she looked at the card and saw that she had missed the seven-minute grace period by a minute again. Her pay would be docked another quarter-hour and it would be recorded on her attendance record a second time in a week. “We’re late again, Candy.”

  “You are so picky,” Candy said. “It’s like you are blaming me for everything that goes wrong.”

  “You are the reason we are late, Candy,” Ann said. “You’ve already spoiled my perfect on-time record. You just have to be more punctual. I won’t be late again.”

  “Oh, Ann, you are right. You are suc
h a wonderful giving person. I am so sorry. It’s completely my fault,” Candy said. “I will try super hard next time.”

  “While we’re discussing things, what is going on with your apartment search? We have passed the four week mark by several weeks.”

  “I know, Ann. I’m trying. It’s like you are pushing me out into the street. I can only do so much. I just don’t have quite enough yet for the first month’s rent.”

  “It’s like I am your mother. I have to clean up after you all the time. You don’t clean your dirty dishes. You don’t make the bed.”

  “Yes, you are exactly like my picky mother. She was always nagging me, telling me what to do.” Candy pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and put it to her eye.

  “Don’t start crying, Candy,” Ann said and put an arm around her shoulder. “Things will get better. I am not going to throw you out into the street.”

  “Oh, Ann, I am sorry,” Candy put her head on Ann’s shoulder.

  “Girls, we need both of you on the floor.” It was Ms. Becky. “We don’t pay you two girls to stand in the hall talking.”

  “Get ahold of yourself. We have to get to work,” Ann whispered and pulled herself from Candy and headed toward the Deli.

  “Everything will be okay,” Candy called after Ann as she scurried toward the front of the store. She smiled at Ms. Becky. “I’m sorry, Ms. Becky, Ann is a little emotional. Sometimes she gets to be a real basket case. Man problems. I had a heck-of-a time trying to get her to work on time this morning. I think she’s much better now.”

  “Yes, we all know about man problems,” Ms. Becky said doing air quotes as she said it. “You know what they say, you can’t live with them, and you can’t shoot them, except for in Montana.”

  “Very funny, Ms. Becky, I like that, you’re a hoot.”

  “You hang in there with Ann. Since you told me you moved in with her, it is apparent you have had a positive influence on her. Maybe you can help her improve her on-time record. She seems to have slipped a bit lately.”

  “I’ll do the best I can, Ms. Becky. You know Ann, she is headstrong. Sometimes she hangs around with the wrong people.”

  Chapter 6 Jesse Martin If you’re on time, you’re late; if you’re fifteen minutes early, you’re on time. She appeared to have two speeds, slow and slower. Your gig is up, Mr. Cowboy Jesse Martin.

  Early 1970’s

  Jesse’s sole purpose was to remain anonymous. He selected his clothes with that in mind, a worn, long-sleeve, tan, cotton shirt that he tucked into his equally worn 501 Levis, and scuffed western boots. His hair was trimmed and combed. He was just a generic guy wandering around Big Richards. He observed for about half an hour, watching the employees, scouting out the exits, getting familiar with where the restrooms were located, just in case he might have use of a private area. Gettin’ the “lay o’ the lan’,” as the guy in Of Mice and Men had said. He did not engage employees in conversations nor did he ask for any assistance. He purposely avoided aisles where associates were working and avoided eye contact with everybody. He was practiced at being invisible.

  He had a particular interest in the checkout employees and the supervisors at the front of the store. He focused his attention on Gladys, according to her nametag, a short, plump woman, who operated a register furthest from the service desk. Gladys was a typical checker, a bit slower than the others he had watched. She appeared to have two speeds, slow and slower. She could do her job, but not without considerable concentration. Her lines were invariably longer than the other checkers’ lines. Jesse noticed customers, even if her line were shorter would seemingly feign a need for an item in another lane and drift unnoticed to that lane. It was the fourth time Jesse was in the West Seattle store over the past two months and it was the third time he had observed Gladys. She had worked evenings at the checkouts each time Jesse had seen her. He had his mark. It would definitely be Gladys.

  Jesse had several stores in his sights and visited each of them several times before making his move. Seattle was great. It had a huge population and there were hundreds of retail stores from which to choose. It was perfect for Jesse’s small side job. It was much more exciting and profitable than working at the campground east of town. He wasn’t getting rich; he did it for shits and grins, but mainly to get back at The Man. Like so many people of his economic station, he had been corn holed by The Man, cheated one way or another, whether it was excessive late fees on his rent or some outrageous penalty for breaking some obscure rule involving his checking account. It could be a ridiculous fine for going ten miles over the speed limit. Taxes, there was the ultimate swindle. It was as if there was an invisible pickpocket helping himself to Jesse’s paycheck. To add hot red pepper to his vanilla ice cream, Seattle was not the cheapest place to live.

  Jesse had no beef with just the ordinary Joe. He’d never take advantage of a little old lady, or man for that matter. It was the outfits that made their living off screwing the little people; those were his targets.

  Like many days in Seattle, it was raining when Jesse left Big Richards. He had parked his truck near the end of the parking lot near The Triangle tavern. Instead of getting in the truck, he walked to the bar and pulled the heavy wooden door open and walked in. There were several empty barstools and he took one close to the jukebox.

  A girl wearing a tight, long sleeve, dark blue, knit sweater with buttons open enough to see a good bit of cleavage was bent over the jukebox selecting a song. She held a cigarette between two fingers and punched three buttons with her middle finger. A Doo Wop record flopped onto the turntable and “Blue Moon,” by The Marcels, started playing. She stood and fingered a lock of long brown hair behind her ear and glanced at him with huge blue eyes, smiled, and walked to the table off to the side and sat with an Asian chick with glistening, long, black hair. Cleavage said something to the Asian chick and both looked at him, smiled, and returned to their conversation and sipped what looked like screwdrivers.

  Jesse ordered an Oly and listened to the song. When he glanced at the table with Cleavage and Asian, they had stood and were holding aqua colored smocks. They walked behind Jesse and both smiled when he looked at them.

  “Have a nice evening, ladies.” He saw the red letters on Cleavage’s name tag, Ann.

  “You too,” Ann said and bumped a table and started to giggle.

  Big Richards’ employees. Steer clear, Jess … trouble.

  Jesse had glanced over a magazine he had picked off a rack at the checkouts and, from a distance, observed the row of registers to see Gladys struggling with the few customers in her line. He didn’t know Gladys personally; his only encounter with her was nearly two weeks ago when he went through a line near her register and looked at her nametag.

  He watched her as she rung up the few people in her line. Gladys appeared to be in her fifties. The crucial aspect about Gladys was her timid personality. Her biggest asset, as far as Jesse was concerned, was that she was an exceptionally slow checker. She did not do that little nonsense dance many checkers do. “Nice day today” or “Did you bring this rain with you?” shit like that. It was too complex for her to engage in small talk while concentrating on keying in the sale. She struggled to get through each transaction and only said the required “Thank you for shopping at Big Richards,” when the customer gathered up their bag of purchases. Jesse intentionally did not proceed through her register. He did not want to be remembered … not this time.

  Today, the situation was entirely different than when he had cased the store earlier; it was imperative for Gladys to remember him. To that end, he wore a Seattle Seahawks football cap and a bright red sweatshirt and sunglasses with those yellow shooter’s lenses and a pair of flashy turquoise colored western boots.

  Jesse snagged a cart as he entered the store and walked past the customer greeter, returning his “Welcome to Big Richards, Go Seahawks” with a short “Yeah, right on, Go Seahawks.” He walked a few feet and returned to the cart corral and gave his cart a shove to
the side and grabbed another. “Why don’t you repair your damn carts? Half of them have flat tires.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll take care of that,” Don said and retrieved the cart and pushed it aside.

  Jesse pushed the cart to the rear of the store and lingered until the appliance associate walked away from the counter to help another customer several aisles away. He strode directly to the huge promotional display of TVs stacked on a dock in the middle of the aisle. He shoved the sign displaying the sale price of one hundred-ninety-nine dollars, knocking it over, and picked a TV from the stack. He balanced the large box on top of the cart and began pushing it to the front registers. On his way to the front of the store he took aisles with no customers in them and quickly tore the sale tag covering the regular price off the box and shoved it into his pocket.

  Looking at the registers, he watched until Gladys had several people in line and took his place behind the last.

  “They ought to hire some speedier checkers,” he said loud enough for several people in front of him to hear, “or hire more of them.” Gladys eyes shot a glance at him and then back at the transaction at hand. One lady turned and gave him a look. She was not smiling.

  The next customer stepped up to Gladys.

  “Christ, I’ve got more to do than stand in a line all night,” Jesse said. Gladys glanced at him for the second time and then looked back at the items in front of her and made a mistake ringing up the item. She had to call the supervisor for a void. Gladys’ face turned crimson and her right hand trembled.

  “Don’t they train these people before they put them on a register?” Jesse said to the man in front of him. Again, Gladys glanced at him.

  “She’s doing the best she can,” the man said. He was not smiling either.

  When Jesse finally reached the register, he was breathing hard. “Can you hurry up a bit,” he exaggerated his movement and bent to look at the name tag with the red letters pinned to her aqua smock, “Gladys.”