identity legend at night.
This was the only thing that kept him from sleeping at night now, me, the fact that I was racing full speed ahead along the same path and he couldn’t make me see that. If I stopped and thought about it for too long, it made me shiver, did I want to end up a reclusive red neck tinkering with scrap metal? Fuck no.
That would just be a waste of… everything.
I’d been working nights for a while and was too exhausted to return his messages when I did get back to wherever I was sleeping. I needed my fucking sleep otherwise I’d be off my game and being off my game in my job bordered dangerous. The kind of get you dead , dangerous.
I showered as soon as I entered the apartment, it was rule one. I needed to rid myself of the filth that clung to me from working with such scum, as well as cleaning up my body’s natural sweat, wear and tear. I could hear my cell phone ringing from the nightstand in my bedroom, whoever it was could fucking wait. Brushing my teeth, I heard it stop and start again immediately, “For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, realizing that they weren’t going away until I actually answered it. Frustration clouded my mood when I saw it was my old man’s number, “Dad, I’ve just come off the night shift, can we speak later?”
“We could…”
“OK then,” I butted in.
“But we won’t because you won’t call me back, so we’re talking now son,” he said stubbornly, it wasn’t improving my disposition at all.
I resisted the urge to curse obscenely down the line, he had the ability to get what he wants via a few different methods, it was part of his skill and why he was so successful during his time with the agency. Today he was going for passive aggressive, “OK, shoot.”
“I need some help son, I’ve got my annual trip and I need you to come take care of something here. I need you to keep an eye on things.”
“Shit Dad, you know I can’t just drop stuff like that.”
“How often do I call you and ask for stuff? This is important to me,” and just like that he’d moved into the guilt trip phase.
“Your redneck junkyard isn’t important enough for me to pull out of my current job.”
“I’ll repeat, how often do I call and ask for your help?” I couldn’t answer, I was struggling to remember the last time he’d asked me outright for something. “Well?”
“I’ll have to call my supervisor, see if I can schedule some time off. Can your trip wait?”
“Fuck, no son. I figured you’d act all put out, so I’ve already made the call. Had to call in one of my markers mind you, you’re on vacation as of tomorrow.”
I saw red instantly. The shit he was pulling now was the stuff my mom put up with for years, she referred to it as eliminating the need for a discussion or decision , and she was right. “Jesus, that was not your call to make,” this was also the reason we got on better when there was a healthy chunk of miles between us.
“I figured you’d whine. Listen son, the keys are where they usually are. You’ll need to get some groceries on route and there’s just one other thing.”
“Isn’t there always, what’s the pet project this time?” I grumbled loud enough for him to hear.
“There’s a young woman working for me, name’s Cara, mousey little thing that gets spooked real easy. I need you to keep an eye on her, I’ve got this feelin’…”
There it was, the junkyard would still be a rusty pile of shit metal, no matter how long he was gone. His real request was babysitting some fucking lost cause. As stubborn as my old man was, he was always a sucker for a lost cause. “Whatever Dad, what’s her deal?”
“That boy, is the million dollar question. Getting’ it out of her is going to take somethin’ you’ve probably not used in a while.”
“Which is?”
“Tact and fuckin’ diplomacy,” he laughed, hanging up because there was nothing more to be
This was the only thing that kept him from sleeping at night now, me, the fact that I was racing full speed ahead along the same path and he couldn’t make me see that. If I stopped and thought about it for too long, it made me shiver, did I want to end up a reclusive red neck tinkering with scrap metal? Fuck no.
That would just be a waste of… everything.
I’d been working nights for a while and was too exhausted to return his messages when I did get back to wherever I was sleeping. I needed my fucking sleep otherwise I’d be off my game and being off my game in my job bordered dangerous. The kind of get you dead , dangerous.
I showered as soon as I entered the apartment, it was rule one. I needed to rid myself of the filth that clung to me from working with such scum, as well as cleaning up my body’s natural sweat, wear and tear. I could hear my cell phone ringing from the nightstand in my bedroom, whoever it was could fucking wait. Brushing my teeth, I heard it stop and start again immediately, “For fuck’s sake,” I grumbled, realizing that they weren’t going away until I actually answered it. Frustration clouded my mood when I saw it was my old man’s number, “Dad, I’ve just come off the night shift, can we speak later?”
“We could…”
“OK then,” I butted in.
“But we won’t because you won’t call me back, so we’re talking now son,” he said stubbornly, it wasn’t improving my disposition at all.
I resisted the urge to curse obscenely down the line, he had the ability to get what he wants via a few different methods, it was part of his skill and why he was so successful during his time with the agency. Today he was going for passive aggressive, “OK, shoot.”
“I need some help son, I’ve got my annual trip and I need you to come take care of something here. I need you to keep an eye on things.”
“Shit Dad, you know I can’t just drop stuff like that.”
“How often do I call you and ask for stuff? This is important to me,” and just like that he’d moved into the guilt trip phase.
“Your redneck junkyard isn’t important enough for me to pull out of my current job.”
“I’ll repeat, how often do I call and ask for your help?” I couldn’t answer, I was struggling to remember the last time he’d asked me outright for something. “Well?”
“I’ll have to call my supervisor, see if I can schedule some time off. Can your trip wait?”
“Fuck, no son. I figured you’d act all put out, so I’ve already made the call. Had to call in one of my markers mind you, you’re on vacation as of tomorrow.”
I saw red instantly. The shit he was pulling now was the stuff my mom put up with for years, she referred to it as eliminating the need for a discussion or decision , and she was right. “Jesus, that was not your call to make,” this was also the reason we got on better when there was a healthy chunk of miles between us.
“I figured you’d whine. Listen son, the keys are where they usually are. You’ll need to get some groceries on route and there’s just one other thing.”
“Isn’t there always, what’s the pet project this time?” I grumbled loud enough for him to hear.
“There’s a young woman working for me, name’s Cara, mousey little thing that gets spooked real easy. I need you to keep an eye on her, I’ve got this feelin’…”
There it was, the junkyard would still be a rusty pile of shit metal, no matter how long he was gone. His real request was babysitting some fucking lost cause. As stubborn as my old man was, he was always a sucker for a lost cause. “Whatever Dad, what’s her deal?”
“That boy, is the million dollar question. Getting’ it out of her is going to take somethin’ you’ve probably not used in a while.”
“Which is?”
“Tact and fuckin’ diplomacy,” he laughed, hanging up because there was nothing more to be
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