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We stepped into the elevator, and Rick pressed the button for the fourth floor. Just like that, we were whisked away. He fixed his suit jacket, eyeing the numbers as they crept up, avoiding my question.
“Rick, I can’t afford this,” I pointed out when the doors flew open again, and we stepped out onto the lush carpet.
“It comes with your job,” he insisted, leading me to a dark gray door at the end of the hall, the number 404 printed in gold lettering on a plaque on the white wall. There was a keypad under the door handle, where Rick punched in four numbers and then twisted the handle, leading me inside my new home.
I was surprised to see it already decorated in grays and whites, much like the rest of the building. The appliances were state of the art, the furniture new, the floors clean, and the air crisp.
“What the hell is going on here?” I asked Rick, my eyes scanning over the open foyer that led into the kitchen. Along the one wall were three doors, all leading to carpeted bedrooms. Along the other wall were two doors, one hinting at a bathroom and the other a laundry room. “This isn’t normal, man,” I insisted, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto a small park.
“Easton, it’s part of your release. It comes with the job I secured. As long as you go to work every day and keep your record clean, it’s yours with no expenses.” I shook my head in disbelief.
Someone had to be playing a joke on me. I didn’t deserve this.
“I need to go over some paperwork with you, and then I have to meet another client.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out multiple documents, laying them out on the kitchen counter.
He pointed out the requirements of my release. The recommendation of giving back to the community. The contract for my new job.
I signed everything he laid before me, and soon, he was putting all the paperwork back in his briefcase and securing it. With a swift handshake, he was gone, leaving me in my shiny, new, expensive apartment that I felt out of place in.
Walking around the apartment, my fingers itched to write a letter. I missed Harley, my little bird. She’d become my best friend while I was in prison. Yet, I hadn’t found the nerve to tell her about the reason I was in there. A fear remained in my heart that she would leave when she found out, just like everyone else before her. No one had ever stuck around, even before I got caught up in all the wrong things.
I wasn’t ready to let my little bird go. Not when she gave me freedom in the first place.
The master bathroom was already stocked with the necessities, just like the fridge and kitchen cabinets. This was more than just a job offer; this was more than an ex-inmate deserved. And I wasn’t sure why it was being offered to me.
I showered for the first time in five years as a free man. I let the hot water burn away my past sins and begged it to create a better man, one deserving of Harley.
I only had the clothes I’d worn home, a credit card in my old, battered wallet that had expired, and a few crumpled bills. It was enough to get me something decent to wear on Saturday night, but beyond that… I sighed.
After leaving the too-clean apartment, I entered the posh elevator and nearly crashed into an older lady, who clutched her skinny mutt to her chest and eyed me warily the entire four floors down.
I almost wanted to bare my teeth at her, become the animal she thought I was, but instead, I waited for her to exit the elevator and bid her farewells to the doorman. Then, she almost ran out of the lobby.
“She’s skittish, that one,” the doorman commented, holding the door open for me to exit.
“Apparently so. Are there any stores within walking distance?” He scratched his jaw, brows furrowing as he thought over my question.
“About two miles away, there’s a shopping plaza, but it’ll take you quite some time by foot. Can I order you an Uber, sir?” Sticking my hands in the pockets of my jeans, I shook my head.
“No, thanks. I like to walk. Gives me time to think. Will you be here later, Mister…”
“Sherman. Just Sherman, sir. Enjoy the walk. Luckily for you, no storms are predicted today. I will be here until dusk, and then John starts his shift. He’ll be here until dawn.” I nodded, taking in the information, and then murmured my own goodbye as he held the glass door open.
I followed his directions, the summer sun sweltering as it beat down on my back. Sweat rolled down my hairline, soaking the neckline of my shirt.
But like I admitted to Sherman, walking was peaceful with the song of birds singing in the distance, the rare brush of the sticky breeze, and a passing car whizzing by every few minutes.
My mind drifted to the same place it had been swimming for the last year—Harley.
What would she look like?
What color were her eyes?
Would she find me attractive?
Would she flee?
Would she be at the bar tomorrow night?
