Redemption | Teen Ink

Redemption

February 28, 2014
By Q-Bert BRONZE, Kent, Washington
Q-Bert BRONZE, Kent, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Tom sent me out on another errand to a lonely middle aged man that needed his fix. He was a two day's journey away and in desperate need of something, Tom wouldn't tell me what, just that there was no time for a delay. As I kicked my dirt bike to life the postman dropped a letter off. Not wanting to leave it for anyone to take it while it was gone I grabbed it. Carelessly tearing it open I found a letter from my dad. Another meaningless letter berating me over events that happened years ago. “Why did you walk off the job? I gave up so much for that, you know” the letter read. “If you don't call me back by nightfall you're gonna get it.” Oh, sure, he said that the last time. Thinking nothing of it I shredded the letter and took towards the middle aged man's house as the crow flies.

As night came I was fortunate to find the decrepit town of Claussen with an equally worn out motel. It would do for a one night stand, as a matter of fact, my room had two. As I slowly let the sandman put me off to bed with the dust that permeated the very premises I played back the memory of my father talking to some strange man during the midnight hours when I was just about six. Crack! Crack! Someone rapped at the door.

“Is this the residence of Mr. Smith?” A stern voice inquired.

“No! Go away!” I spat back. Who would be asking for me at this hour. My dad? Yes, definitely. He wasn't lying this last time. He'd sent one of his blasted cronies. With an outlet store empire, I guess you can afford those.

Wham! A sledgehammer took a chunk out of the front door. A couple more whacks and nothing would be left. I slipped into my jeans and t-shirt and took for the hills. The crony's sedan couldn't handle the boulders that dotted the hillside like sesame seeds on a bagel. A quick call to Tom gave me temporary shelter at a lookout's house. He was a hired hand and said he would keep watch over “Tom's errand boy” as he watched for any rival activity in the outskirts of the Red Saints territory.

Four hours into my fitful sleep I was awoken by a yell from the lookout to run north across town and continue in that direction. I'd ran out of the Red Saints' range and had little places left for refuge. I ran all day from what I saw as a lean man following me from afar. It was getting late so I quickly ran into the next town and found an outlet store with a ladder letting me get rooftop access. A scanning of the horizon assured me that I'd shook my dad's crony off of my tail for at least the night, if he could follow me in the day, he surely could get me at night. Night settled as I tried to sink into the cold hard concrete that made up the bone dry roof. I dreamed of my father and his constant absence, he never really was around as a child.

Dawn sent the sun crashing into my eyelids and made me feel as if my head was going to pop. I quickly shook off the cold that had collected on me like a poor man's blanket, and arose to the serenade of a car rumbling to a stop in the parking lot in front. I dashed a look over the roof and found that it was my father, driving his Mustang.

My only refuge was a possible place at my father's, but after what he'd sent after me, I was doubtful that he'd even want to talk to me. I quietly made my way down the ladder and crept around to the back entrance. I snuck inside the back and found my father, double checking the stock in one of his many stores.

“Hey George.” my father uttered nonchalantly, walking and counting the pallets that lined the walls. “What brings you around here?”

“Oh, umm... hi” I mumbled back.

“So, whaddya want?” my father stopped and inquired, bothered that I was still there.

“I've been running from some crony of yours for the past couple of days and you have the guts to ask me what's the matter?” I sassed back.

“Oh yeah, Jim. I sent him when you didn't call back. I wanted to check up on you. He found this on your house.” He pulled out a printed photo with the Red Saints logo.

“Check up on me? He broke down a door in a motel I was sleeping at! You know, the Red Saints treated me better than you ever would. They payed better and Tom even arranged for a place for me to stay while that Jim of yours was chasing me. If you didn't want me to go you would've offered me a better job! Hmph.” I retorted.

“Oh sure, running with some two bit gang is worth your time.”

“Well, it's been worth it so far How did Tom even know who I was? I'd never known him before. Why didn't you keep him away? Aren't you supposed to love and protect me?”

“Well, sit down I got a story to tell you. Tom and I go a ways back, rather by accident. Ten years ago, my chain of stores was on the brink of bankruptcy. You didn't know this, because mother and I kept this a secret from you, didn't want you getting worried. So, one day Tom walks in all dressed up and explains to me that he needs a place to hide some gang stuff for the time being. He offered me a rather hefty sum to hold several pallets of guns, drugs and what not. Enough money to hold my stores out for the next two or three years. And, me not being dumb, I comply and let him store his stuff and go freely back and forth in between all of my stores that he's using as warehouses. And that's how we met Tom.”

“But, I thought you were a good guy! You raised an outlet store empire from nothing!” I retorted, trying to take in the story that was just laid on me.

“Well, you have to do what you have to do.” father quipped. “That doesn't mean that I wanted you involved with Tom, though.”

“But, Tom's the only way to get money! At least any meaningful amount of money.”

Father sighed. “You know I never really was home when you grew. Why not come back home. I'll give Jim a call and tell him I'm with ya. He can find his way back. I guess Tom still owes me a favor. Come work here, I'll put you in as a stock manager.”

It was a relief to find my father so accepting. “Thanks dad. I guess. Let's go back and enjoy the old times.”



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