Page 91 of Carry On

Hell, I didn’t even want to be here. I had no desire to conform to the prison society had built for us. A society run by money and framed by expectations. I also couldn’t understand why everyone considered that so wrong. So wild. I’d existed in the world long enough to see how money and expectations ruined people and made them miserable. I may not have interacted much with the world, but I observed a lot. Was it so wrong that I didn’t want to be saddled with that burden?

I fussed with my tie. The damn thing was uncomfortable. Why did people wear these things? What was the point?

“Sorry about that!” Owen Masters: owner, loud talker, and sweated so goddamn bad it had to be a medical condition. Granted, considering the luck I was having with the system, I couldn’t imagine it was any better for him. Still, the guy seemed nice enough. “If it’s not one thing, it’s the other, am I right?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, forcing a chuckle—performing like the goddamn monkey I was in the situation.

It still won’t impress him,the voice commented.

I did my best to ignore it because I could only focus on so much at once.

“We talked about the job, right?” he asked as he shuffled papers around his overly cluttered desk. I just nodded. We’d talked about it twice, butat least he asked this time. “Okay… and we talked about training and compensation…”

“Yes, Sir, we did,” I replied.

“Oh, none of thatsirstuff here,” he said. “Just Owen will do just fine. I like to treat my boys like family. If you’re going to keep my business going, you deserve my respect.”

“That’s a nice policy.” A rare one.

“I also believe in second chances,” he continued, “and sometimes third chances. There aren’t a lot of people I won’t give a second or third chance on. You have to really mess up for me to look the other way and give up.”

“Good to know.”

”Now, that being said,” Owen tapped the paper in front of him—my resume, “there is a hell of a gap in your resume, Mr. Calhoun.”

“Just Nash, please,” I interrupted. “I go by my middle name.”

“Good to know.” He made a quick note of it on the resume. “Can you explain the time gap? It’s almost… well, it’s almost ten years.”

“I had some trouble adjusting to coming home,” I admitted, the words bitter on my tongue.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied.

No, he’s not,the voice chimed in.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories,” Owen murmured. He drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered me. I just deadpanned, staring back at him. There was very little that he could do to make me uncomfortable. The tie was winning in that department. At this point, I was just waiting for him to dismiss me. “If I drug test you today, would you pass?”

“I don’t do drugs,” I said.

“Alcohol?”

“Occasionally.” I lied. “Who doesn’t have a drink from time to time?”

“Very true.” He laughed. “Well, your military record is stellar. Have you been arrested? Is there anything on your record that I should be aware of?”

“I was arrested for punching a college kid in the face,” I told him. “But it was self-defense, and the charges were dropped.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d been put in handcuffs, but I was fairly certain the other times had been just to cool me down until they were comfortable releasing me. I didn’t think there was a record of those, so I wasn’t bringing them up.

“Okay,” Owen said as he nodded slowly. “Like I said, I believe in second chances. I got a whole assortment of guys on my crew that needed someone to give them a second chance. You take care of my business, and I take care of you, got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t we get some paperwork done? After, we’ll set up your training, and then I’ll take you to one of the sites to introduce you to some of the guys you’ll be working with?” he continued as he got to his feet.

I followed suit, realizing this was it.

This was me getting a job.