Chris Part 1

I took what Robbie had to say about finding a ride for delivery week seriously. I set it as a goal, and would ask at every house after I tried selling there. I didn’t have much luck. Evan had offered to help, but he did not have a vehicle, since he wrecked his truck. There was no way we could deliver books on his motorcycle.

It was mid day the next week when I came upon a house on the top of a small hill. It was in a pleasant neighborhood that was not quite suburban, but not quite rural either. The woman who answered the door let me in. I showed her the Family Bible Library.

“Oh, my son is too old for that kind of thing. We’re not really very religious either. I’m sorry.”

“Really. He’s older?”

“Yes, he’s going to be starting his senior year of high school in September.”

“Does he drive?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I’m looking for someone to help me deliver books next week. I need someone who has a car. I’m paying $20 a day for six days plus meals and gas.”

“He is looking for a job. He might be interested but he’s not home right now. Could you stop back later?”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s at the Dairy Queen with his friends for lunch.”

“That’s not far. I could go see him there.”

“Sure if you like. His name is Jeff. He’s tall and thin with wavy brown hair.” She looked a little baffled.

“Thanks a lot Ma’am.” With that I left. Finally I had a lead on a driver and I wasn’t going to let it go cold, either. I picked up my bike and headed off to the Dairy Queen. The sun glinted off of the red and white ‘DQ’ sign, somehow invoking thoughts of ice cream in me.

I parked my bike in front of the big glass window so that I could keep an eye on it. I walked into the DQ and surveyed the patrons for someone fitting Jeff’s description. I recognized him sitting with two other kids at a booth. He really was quite handsome; could have been a model. I went to the counter and ordered a banana split with everything on it. It was a work of art when completed. I paid and took my frozen lunch over to Jeff’s table. I stood a few feet from the end of their table and said to the one that looked like Jeff, “Hi there, Jeff. My name is Susan Fairview. I was just up at your house and your Mom said you might be looking for some work toward the end of the summer.”

“Yes I am. How did you find me here?”

“Your Mom told me you were here.”

“Oh. Please join us. This is Linda and James.”

“Thanks. So what are you kids studying in school?” I decided to make light conversation with them.

“Nothing.” they answered dejectedly in unison. Then they laughed at their simultaneous replies. We all got into a conversation about schools in the area. Apparently, some kids went to a private school that was really respected. These kids did not. They seemed barely literate. Their English was poor and they had no knowledge of anything they should have had by their age. They seemed to know it too. But, none of them had any lofty goals such as going on to college or, heck, even graduating seem lofty to one of them. But they all seemed happy as clams. After a while, Jeff’s two friends excused themselves so that Jeff and I could get down to business.

“So, what is the deal?” he asked.

“I need someone to drive me around with my books to be delivered for a week. The pay is $20 per day with meals and gas. Are you interested?”

“Sure. I could use the work. Thanks.” He added that he drove an older model dark green Impala. The car was large enough to do the job.

We made some arrangements and I left.

Delivery Week Part 1

Mary, Chris and I had cardboard boxes of all of the books we sold delivered to the Sanders’ house before delivery week. We stored them in the central hallway adjacent to the stairs. Mary still had more books coming. It was such a huge pile of books! It as like a wall of cardboard and the Sanders remarked that they were astounded that we had sold so many. We tried to separate them into which ones belonged to whom.

When Jeff arrived, we loaded up his Impala’s trunk with the boxes of books for our first delivery run.

Early during delivery week, I returned the bike I had borrowed. I had had to replace the tires and had it all tuned up at a local bike shop. It was, however, still stuck in third gear. The man who owned the bike was shocked to see me return it.

“I thought that when you rode off on it, that would be the last I ever saw of it or you.” he said. “You have restored my faith in humanity, little girl.” He was amazed at the work I had done on the bike and how far I had ridden it during the summer. “I’m sure it came to better use than sitting in my breezeway.” he noted.

As we drove off, I said to Jeff, “Well, we might as well deliver to the one house I sold to in the projects today. It is on our way.”

“You sold books in the projects? Wait, you mean to tell me you went into the projects, alone?”

“Yeah. The sale was easy, but the woman had no money for a deposit and gave me one of her old shoes.” I opened my sales case and pulled out the shoe to show Jeff. He glanced over from driving and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you went in there by your self. You’re lucky you weren’t shot! If she didn’t give you any money, why try to deliver there? She probably still doesn’t have the money.”

“Well, leastways I will return her shoe.”

“It’s not worth anything, so why bother?”

“We made a bargain, and I will keep my half and return this shoe. We’re going into the projects; it is only one house any how.”

“Okay, but I suggest that you deposit what you’ve collected so far today in the bank before we go in the projects.”

“Do you really think we need to do that?”

“Yup. It would be foolish to go in there with any cash on us, or without a weapon.”

“Weapon?” I asked.

“Yeah, see that baseball bat in the back. I always carry it. You never know when you’ll need it, and I’ll feel better knowing that its there when we go into the projects.”

I looked over the back of my seat, and sure enough there was a heavy wooden baseball bat on the floor of the car. It looked brand new.

Jeff and I drove to the Citizens’ and Southern Bank to deposit all of the money in my blue-black zippered vinyl money collection envelope before we went to deliver to the one house I sold to in the projects. We had collected about a thousand dollars so far. It felt good to put it safely in the bank, and the bank cashier was so happy to see me when I walked in with so much cash. Jeff suggested that we take a Family Bible Library set out of the trunk here, in the bank’s parking lot, rather than when we got to the projects. He looked pretty serious about it, and I figured I’d just trust his judgment.

We got the set out of the trunk, put it on the floor of the front seat and hopped back into the old green Impala. Off we drove to the projects. The house I had sold to was only a handful of blocks from the bank. We pulled up in front of the house. Even though it was mid afternoon, no one was about. Jeff put the car in park and looked over at me nervously.

“Make it quick.” he suggested.

“Don’t worry, it will be fine.” I picked up the FBL set and the shoe and walked up to the door of the house. I knocked. The door did not open, but I heard noises inside.

“Shhh, honey, get away from the door and be quiet.” It was a whispered voice of the woman I had sold to from inside of the house.

“Hi there Mrs. Jones.”, I said. “It’s Sue Fairview. Remember you ordered some books from me and I’m here to deliver them?” I tried to speak loudly enough that she could hear me, without yelling.

“Do you have my shoe? Did you bring my shoe with you?” Her voice seemed fearful and aggressive.

“Yes, Ma’am. I have it right here.” I held out the shoe in front of me as if she could see it through the still closed door.

“Now you listen to me! I have a shotgun pointed at you right through this door. You leave that shoe on the stoop right there, and get out of here, so no one gets hurt. You leave that shoe, or I’ll shoot!”

‘Yes ma’am. I’m leaving it right here, ma’am.” I said as quickly as I could. I put the shoe on the concrete stoop theatrically, in case some on was watching, and backed off immediately. I walked briskly back to the car. I did not run. I felt that running would escalate the situation. Jeff leaned over to my side and pushed the door open before I got there. I slid in, slammed the door and said, “Let’s get out of here!” He did not hesitate to follow this instruction, and even seemed to have his drive out of there planned. I took one more look as we drove away. I saw the door open slightly. A black woman’s hand darted out and grabbed the shoe, pulling it back into the house. The door closed as quickly as it had opened.

“What happened back there?” Jeff asked me as we reached safer neighborhoods.

“She told me she had a shotgun pointed at me through the door and to leave the shoe on the stoop.”

“Thank God nothing happened! I told you it was a mistake to go back there. You risked your life to return that stupid old shoe. That bitch would have shot you for that damn shoe.”

“You were right.” I said dejectedly. But still I felt that returning the shoe to its owner was very right. I never should have been there to take it. It was as if the world order that had been disturbed the day that I took the shoe, was now restored. The shame I felt in taking it was lifted, especially since I had risked my life to restore the order.

At first I had been afraid when the woman claimed to have a gun. But that fear passed when I left the shoe on the stoop.

Delivery Week Part 2

Fortunately, that was the roughest delivery I had. We had been taught in sales school that we would have to enter the house, ripping the box of books open and dumping the books on the floor while saying, “Hey, Mrs. Jones, kids! Here are the books you ordered!” and making a big scene by unwrapping each book to intimidate them into paying the remainder of the tab. I hardly ever had to resort to this tactic. My sales were all very solid. Folks were happy to see me and the books they had bought. They had the cash ready and in hand to pay me. When I left, they were all smiles.

The end of the day was welcome after making deliveries. It was going really well; the woman with the shot gun was the only dissatisfied customer. Jeff turned down my street and as we approached the house he said in a somewhat incredulous tone, “Is that your boyfriend?”

I saw Evan on his motorcycle in the driveway, waiting for me. He really looked cool on that bike.

“Yup. That’s Evan.” I answered. “Why?”

“Did you know that he is the main pot dealer in the county? I mean, I sell to my high school, and he supplies me.”

“What? You’ve got to be joking. Evan?” I didn’t know what to think.

“Yeah, he’s the guy. You ought to be careful around him. I mean, not that he’s dangerous or anything. I guess I’m just surprised you’re hooked up with him.” With that last comment we pulled up to the house. I thanked Jeff and got out of the car. Jeff waved to Evan, and Evan seemed to make a connection as he waved back. Jeff drove off quickly.

“What are you doing with that guy?” Evan asked pointing in the direction Jeff left in.

“Oh, I hired Jeff to help deliver my books since I don’t have a car.” I answered as calmly as possible. I thought better of asking Evan if or how he knew Jeff, even though they had waved to each other. I wasn’t exactly sure whether or not to believe Jeff’s accusation about Evan, and I didn’t really have too much time to think about it. I certainly didn’t want to let it slip to Evan that I had any suspicions about him.

Evan said, “I dropped by to see if you wanted to go out tonight. A joint North of town is having a band; we could both go on my bike.”

“Sure, let me get a jacket and drop off my sales case.”

Moments later we rode off on Evan’s bike. When we got to the small bar it was packed with people. The air was smoky, which usually I detest, but I was thrilled to be there with Evan. Jeff’s accusations must have been at least overstated. Evan bought us some beers and we listened to the music. It was very loud, hard rocking, rock and roll. It was too crowded to dance, and no space had been cleared between the tables. Evan kept one hand on my waist and pulled me closely in front of him as we listened. He pressed my ass to his groin and we swayed to the music. I was really getting turned on as he breathed into my ear. I leaned my head back against his chest and closed my eyes. My god, I was falling for him.