his shoulder. Jarhead. The date. All American Futurity. Second Place. I put my hand on Jack’s shoulder. He sifted his hands through the box and his eyes glazed and drifted far, far away.
I turned to Alan. “Jarhead, the name that’s engraved there, is Jack’s horse. A very famous racehorse. These are keepsakes, or really more like treasures.”
Alan sank into a crouch, his head in his hands. “Shit. It’s bad.”
“What? What is it?”
He stood back up and began to pace. “When Mama and Daddy died, it messed me up. A gas leak. Who has gas leaks anymore? At least they didn’t know what was happening to them; they didn’t suffer.” He wiped his eyes. “I didn’t want this place. I was real happy doing tile. Man, it’s like therapy to me. I get in a zone, and when I’m done it’s the most satisfying thing in the world.”
“You’re very good at it.”
He smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Thank you. There’s so much more to this place than I’d realized. The first week I was here, an eighteen-wheeler pulls up out back. The guy unloads boxes and wheels them in on hand trucks like he owns the place. ‘Where do you want your merchandise?’ he asks me. ‘What’s going on?’ I say. ‘You Edward Freeman?’ ‘Hell no, that’s my daddy and he’s dead.’ ‘Well, I was told to drop this off for him and let you know that payment will be collected in the usual manner.’ I’m like, ‘What is this shit?’ And all he tells me is, ‘Special merchandise. Hot sellers, if you know what I mean.’”
Alan stopped and mopped his brow, and I squeezed his arm. It looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Jack had put the box down and was listening, arms crossed.
“I tell him to get that stolen shit out of my store. He does, but not before he warns me that this isn’t going to go well for me or him. He practically begs me to take it. Says he’ll pay for it, only don’t make him put it back on the truck. It was some good shit, too. Jewelry, high class. Phones. Laptops. The kinda stuff that sells, I’ve learned, and sells for top dollar.” He took a deep breath. “They sent an enforcer to see me three weeks later.”
“Oh no,” I breathed.
“The guy says I owe him some money, that my father had paid him once a month, that it is the price of doing business. Man, I didn’t know what to do. By then I’d dug into the books, and our income had been down in the last few weeks. Now I understand why, even though I didn’t then. Daddy was getting hot inventory at a reduced price, and that’s how he was making enough money to share it with the likes of this guy. He was burying the payments back in Cost of Goods Sold for the merchandise. But I hadn’t figured any of that out then. So I told him to get stuffed.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing then. But he comes back the next month. Asks if I’d gotten any smarter. I hadn’t. He beat the shit out of me right then and there and said next time it’s gonna be my family.” Alan and his wife had three daughters, five, eight, and twelve.
“Jesus,” I said. “That’s scary.”
He nodded. “Yeah, and I still didn’t get any smarter the next month. I figured he was bluffing. Somebody burned a cross in my yard the next night. My girls still cry when they talk about it.”
“I’m so sorry.” And I was. Alan was breaking the law. He was hurting other people by his involvement in this scheme. But I wasn’t sure what I would have done in his place.
“I’d been mad at my pops until then, but suddenly I felt sad for him. Sick, even. A month later the guy came back. I paid him. A truck showed up the next week and dropped off merchandise, and they’ve been coming like clockwork ever since. The trucks, and the collections.”
Finally, Jack chimed in. “How’s that going for you so far?”
“Not so good.”
“Are you ready to take it to the cops?”
Alan closed his eyes and licked his lips. The silence in the room was shattered by a
I turned to Alan. “Jarhead, the name that’s engraved there, is Jack’s horse. A very famous racehorse. These are keepsakes, or really more like treasures.”
Alan sank into a crouch, his head in his hands. “Shit. It’s bad.”
“What? What is it?”
He stood back up and began to pace. “When Mama and Daddy died, it messed me up. A gas leak. Who has gas leaks anymore? At least they didn’t know what was happening to them; they didn’t suffer.” He wiped his eyes. “I didn’t want this place. I was real happy doing tile. Man, it’s like therapy to me. I get in a zone, and when I’m done it’s the most satisfying thing in the world.”
“You’re very good at it.”
He smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Thank you. There’s so much more to this place than I’d realized. The first week I was here, an eighteen-wheeler pulls up out back. The guy unloads boxes and wheels them in on hand trucks like he owns the place. ‘Where do you want your merchandise?’ he asks me. ‘What’s going on?’ I say. ‘You Edward Freeman?’ ‘Hell no, that’s my daddy and he’s dead.’ ‘Well, I was told to drop this off for him and let you know that payment will be collected in the usual manner.’ I’m like, ‘What is this shit?’ And all he tells me is, ‘Special merchandise. Hot sellers, if you know what I mean.’”
Alan stopped and mopped his brow, and I squeezed his arm. It looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Jack had put the box down and was listening, arms crossed.
“I tell him to get that stolen shit out of my store. He does, but not before he warns me that this isn’t going to go well for me or him. He practically begs me to take it. Says he’ll pay for it, only don’t make him put it back on the truck. It was some good shit, too. Jewelry, high class. Phones. Laptops. The kinda stuff that sells, I’ve learned, and sells for top dollar.” He took a deep breath. “They sent an enforcer to see me three weeks later.”
“Oh no,” I breathed.
“The guy says I owe him some money, that my father had paid him once a month, that it is the price of doing business. Man, I didn’t know what to do. By then I’d dug into the books, and our income had been down in the last few weeks. Now I understand why, even though I didn’t then. Daddy was getting hot inventory at a reduced price, and that’s how he was making enough money to share it with the likes of this guy. He was burying the payments back in Cost of Goods Sold for the merchandise. But I hadn’t figured any of that out then. So I told him to get stuffed.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing then. But he comes back the next month. Asks if I’d gotten any smarter. I hadn’t. He beat the shit out of me right then and there and said next time it’s gonna be my family.” Alan and his wife had three daughters, five, eight, and twelve.
“Jesus,” I said. “That’s scary.”
He nodded. “Yeah, and I still didn’t get any smarter the next month. I figured he was bluffing. Somebody burned a cross in my yard the next night. My girls still cry when they talk about it.”
“I’m so sorry.” And I was. Alan was breaking the law. He was hurting other people by his involvement in this scheme. But I wasn’t sure what I would have done in his place.
“I’d been mad at my pops until then, but suddenly I felt sad for him. Sick, even. A month later the guy came back. I paid him. A truck showed up the next week and dropped off merchandise, and they’ve been coming like clockwork ever since. The trucks, and the collections.”
Finally, Jack chimed in. “How’s that going for you so far?”
“Not so good.”
“Are you ready to take it to the cops?”
Alan closed his eyes and licked his lips. The silence in the room was shattered by a
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