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T he week ended on a note of tiredness Helen had never known in her life. Every muscle in her body ached, her joints throbbed, and even her thumbs felt as if they pulled a twelve-hour shift sending out text messages. In her spirit, she was happy to know she’d passed the first test of mental fitness to begin her training as a Technician. Based on the reaction of everyone in the house after the initial purchases, especially the individual chairs, she was doing pretty good. How any of that would help her be an assassin was beyond the scope of her limited reasoning, but as she’d been taught, every action elicits a reaction. Thus far, the reactions were right on point.

Wednesday morning brought a one-on-one day with Jeffrey, a 17 year old, with hair that stood on end like Don King the boxing promoter. It wasn’t her place to suggest a haircut, but if she could discern what type of clothing he liked to wear, maybe...perhaps, there would be a middle ground, versus having the young man look like he worked in a lab making terrible drugs that made people see dancing monkeys. The idea of being alone with him made her nervous, and then she looked into his eyes at breakfast. He was enthusiastic about getting out of the house for whatever they were going to do.

“We should be back after lunch,” she said aloud, but her eyes were on Oscar. He was the youngest.

Helen’s logic, whether accurate or sideways, was to get Jeffrey set up first, then he could aid Oscar with situating his room. So far, she had seen no real connection between the boys. If, and it was a big if, she could have Jeffrey step up as a protector for the two others, then, in this life, or when they moved forward to whatever came next, a sort of family could be formed.

“Let’s roll, Jeffrey,” she told him.

The first stop was to the super-center in Janesville, where she could score a quart of paint, chinos, and jeans. The super center store was also a great place to purchase a fresh pack of undies, pjs, and some form of house slipper. Jeffrey’s head was down when they walked, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The tattered clothing he wore, broken down from wear and tear, looked no different than what the other teens in the store were worn by choice.

“Let’s get you a pair of jeans, a button down, a matching tee, and pair of chinos,” she told him. “We can look elsewhere for a pair of kicks, but a white nondescript pair from here can work to rock your gear.”

Jeffrey almost, nearly gave her a smile. “I want a pair of Nikes if you have any of the money left.”

“Sweetheart, if you want Nikes, we will figure out how to make it happen,” she told him, offering a faint smile.

The plan, she decided, was to only purchase one pack each of underwear, tees and socks. Jeffrey mentioned the second-hand store. Then she had an idea.

“I have $40 bucks cash here,” she said, passing it to him. “I’m going to let you decide what you want in the store and what you feel is most important to you.”

Jeffrey, shocked at her approach and giving him money, decided foremost, he needed a wallet to put it in. Luckily, it was red tag week in the thrift store, which offered even deeper discounts. She watched him handpick clothing, only spending twenty of the dollars.

“I want a haircut,” he said. “Been a long time since I had one.”

“Haircut is next,” she told him, searching her phone for a hip and cool barbershop. Locating a men’s grooming station close by, she secured the items in the vehicle's rear, careful to cover the bags with a blanket she kept for just in case, before they walked in the barbers. She clutched her purse tightly, appearing afraid of everything and everyone in the shop. A man who she assumed was the owner stepped forward.

A hearty, boisterous voice greeted them, “Whassup, can I help you?”

“Yes, my son needs a cut, maybe a shave,” she said, lowering her eyes to not make too much eye contact. “All he has is a $20; can he get it done here?”

The way she said it made all the men in the shop react. She was told to take a seat while Jeffrey sat in the chair. Helen couldn’t hear the shop owner or what Jeffrey was saying to him, but the boy looked up and made eye contact with her. He did it in a way that asked her to back up the story he’d given to the barber. She nodded her head, praying she hadn’t agreed to a lie that couldn’t be substantiated.

Twenty minutes later, Jeffrey looked like a new person. He walked with his head held high and confidence in his posture. His shoulders were back as he went into the wallet to pull out the twenty. The barber only took ten.

“My name is Cole,” he told Helen. “Your son told me he has a little brother who needs a cut as well. Bring him by in the next day or so, and I’ll square him up.”

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate this,” she said. “Jeffrey, you look so handsome.”

“Aww, Ma,” Jeffrey said, shying away from her. “Not in front of the dudes! Not cool!”

“Sorry,” she said, blushing furiously. “Thank you again.”

Instinct told her to link her arm into Jeffrey’s as she’d seen Moms do with teenage boys escorting them to a restaurant for lunch or dinner. She also thought it was a logical plan to take him to lunch while they were out, and after, she scored him a pair of Nikes.

At half-past two, they returned home. Oscar’s relief was evident when she pulled up and his eyes grew large, seeing the transformation in Jeffrey. Apple saw it too as the boy walked up the stairs and looked him in the eye for the first time.

“Nice haircut,” Apple said.

“Got a shave too,” Jeffrey said, almost smiling.

“Looks good. Well done,” he told Jeffrey. “You too, Ms. Helen.”

She smiled but was tired. Stephen, twirling about the living room, began yammering about his day tomorrow, and Oscar nearly sat in her lap when he talked about what they would do on his day, his haircut and more. As best she could, she listened, but mentally, she was already in bed.

A pleasant surprise awaited her when she excused herself to go to the bathroom. Not only had Ricky put in the new toilet, but he’d also installed a new casing over the old tub and laid fresh linoleum on the floor, and there was a vanity, a lovely vanity which now held the pretty soap and lotion dispensers she’d purchased yesterday.

Oscar waited for her outside the door. “I helped make it nice like that, Ms. Helen.”

“And a fine job you did helping Mr. Ricky. I think it looks amazing,” she replied, reaching for the bag of clothing she’d purchased from the second-hand store, only to be stopped by Jeffrey.

“Stephen can show me how to do a load of laundry,” Jeffrey said. “Ms. Helen, you want a glass of water and to rest for a minute?”

“That would be lovely,” she replied to the young man.

Jeffrey called out, “Stephen, bring Ms. Helen some of that tea we saw her drinking.”

“On it, doggone it,” Stephen called back, sashaying into the kitchen.

Jeffrey parked her in one of the two pink chairs she had bought yesterday that sat in front of the living room window. The curtains were open and the sun shone through the sheers. It had taken her three tries with the leveler and drill to get in the screws, even after Ricky had shown her twice, but she’d done it. She’d hung drapes with fancy rods. Before the night was over, the curtains that she’d washed and dried were hung at all the bedroom windows. The rest of the house could wait until the weekend.

ON THURSDAY, SHE REPEATED the outing with Stephen, minus the haircut. He, unlike Jeffrey, didn’t want name brand shoes, but purchased secondhand shoes in good condition from the discount store. He wanted nothing, including the paint from the super-center, and used the bulk of his money at the red tag sale, coming away with a basket load of clothes. Happier than any man should be with those many clothes, he wanted to spend a few dollars on high end shampoo, conditioner, and a blow dryer.

She didn’t argue, since he seemed thrilled with himself and the items purchased.

Friday was Oscar’s day and they started with the haircut. He said nothing to the barber, but handed him a crinkled twenty from his pocket, happy to have change. Thin for his age, in the super-center, Helen purchased the bulk of the items for him before heading to the discount store where he wanted nothing. Oscar never moved past the front entrance.

“It smells funny,” he said, shying behind her, not wanting to go any further. She didn’t push. He had little to say as they stopped for chicken nuggets and waffle fries, mentioning once his hope for a television.

Helen didn’t ask or need him to talk. Oscar seemed content to simply be with her in a place where he could watch people. She didn’t mind it too much herself. Before, she never dined out and fast food wasn’t on her list of nutritional balance, but these kids needed a new kind of purpose. She didn’t know or understand the plan Apple had for them. However, tomorrow was his day in the passenger seat and she would find out. Today, however, there was Oscar.

“He hurt me,” Oscar told her.

Helen didn’t need to ask to whom the child was referring. She knew. A million thoughts zinged through her head about how to respond or what to say. Instead of trying to offering comfort by over-explaining and providing platitudes, she lowered the neckline of her blouse. Not too far to expose her cleavage but to show the boy the scars.

“He hurt me too, but we are here, Oscar. We survived, we shall heal, and we will move forward and live in the light,” she told him.

The boy nodded and said no more. After completing the sparse meal, they returned to the home where Oscar met Stephen in the laundry room to wash the new clothing. To her surprise, in the common room was a television, a big one hanging on the wall. Since it was Friday, Apple stated they would all watch a movie after dinner with popcorn.

Helen liked the idea, excusing herself for a moment to call her cousin for a check-in. She really wanted to check in with the Mustang, but didn’t want to appear too needy. Everything, thus far, was not terrible, and she was in no danger. The idea of spending the day with Apple would really give her a sense of who the man was, what he stood for, and the plans for the kids. Until then, she returned to the common room, nibbling on the popcorn as the kids sat in awe watching a King Kong movie. She appreciated Apple purchasing the entire series on streaming, so each week, the ‘family” could enjoy the next installment.

She would mention culturally enriching films and shows to Apple to broaden the kid’s knowledge base when they spent time together tomorrow.

THE MORNING ARRIVED with Apple ready to go. He almost seemed rather keen his day with Helen but began by establishing a few ground rules. The first one made her smile and even blush.

“One, you’re not buying me any underwear,” Apple said. “I could use more socks, but no, on the underwear.”

“I really had no intention of doing so, but duly noted,” she said, smiling. “Anything else?”

“No fast food for lunch,” he said. “This body is a chiseled machine.”

“A chiseled machine that eats pizza?”

“The pizza was for the kids,” he said, trying to hide the cold slice in his hand from last night’s dinner behind his back. “Do you want me to drive since you’ve been driving every day?”

“No, today you get to take a breather on being in charge,” she told him, looking into the kitchen at Oscar, and speaking to the boy. “We should be back around two at the latest. Do you have questions?”

“No, Jeffrey is okay. He will watch out for me,” Oscar said.

“Good,” she said, looking up at Jeffrey. “He can have snacks mid-morning and mid-afternoon, I would prefer it to be fruit, but there are chips if he wants some. It’s Saturday, so after whatever chores you have, some afternoon TV is okay.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jeffrey said, looking at Oscar. “Come on and get you some breakfast. I think Stephen is making waffles.”

To make sure no one escaped having a word with Ms. Helen, she looked at Stephen. “You don’t need to cook anything for lunch today. Chips and dogs are fine for a midday meal. Take it easy today and work on your bedroom, getting things laid out. Are you good?”

Stephen blinked twice, looking at her. “Yes, thanks for asking.”

“Be back soon,” she told them all, looking at Ricky. “Sir, don’t let them bowl over you to get their way with extra snacks and TV time before they have finished the chores.”

Ricky saluted, sheepishly asking. “Ms. Helen, is tomorrow my day with you?”

“Sure thing,” she told him, looking back at the ragtag family. “Be back soon. No strangers in the house, and no forks in the electrical sockets. I don’t know the insurance situation, and we don’t need any medical bills.”

They all smiled at her, including Ricky. Apple only scowled. Helen also scowled as the man took up all the oxygen in the vehicle and much of the space. He didn’t seem that tall or that big, or that muscly, but in the front seat of her Subaru, the space didn’t appear to accommodate his mass.

“You’re good with the kids. You learn all that stuff in foster care?” he asked her, as she pulled out of the drive.

“I didn’t grow up in foster care, thank you very much,” she told him.

“Sorry, I assumed you and The Cherry on Top found each other in foster care and connected,” he said.

“Not true in the least,” she said.

He shifted his tactic, “Are your parents dead, leaving you and Cherry had to make your way in the world?”

“No, my mother is very much alive and living in Chicago with a man named Waldo, with uneven front teeth. He’s covered with an equally uneven gold-plated grill,” she said, “and he greets everyone with aiiii!”

Apple chuckled. “And your father?’

“He lives in New York, and before you ask, he sent an Easter, birthday, and Christmas card to me with appropriate amounts of legal tender until I was 18. He even attended my high school graduation. I moved out from Mom’s and got my own place, but he still calls on birthdays and Christmas, checking to see if I made him a grandad,” she answered. “Don’t have the heart to tell him that will never happen.”

“You can’t or don’t want to?”

“Can’t and don’t want to,” she replied.

“Interesting, so I figured you all wrong,” he said.

“Why figure when you can simply ask?” she asked. “Am I free to inquire about you?”

“I guess,” he said. “I assume you’re going to get personal. To clear up matters, no, to me and Ricky. No to me and young boys. I am a protector, not a predator.”

“Never assumed you to be,” she said. “Are you an only child? I am for both my parents. My father never had any more, or at least if he did, he never told me.”

Apple sat for a moment, mentally cataloguing what he wanted to tell her and facts which seemed pertinent to their current situation. She had intentionally avoided the conversation section about her and Cherry. He wanted her to understand the why of his current lifestyle and the reason for being employed by The Company. It wasn’t his long-term goal to stay in the business of ending lives, but if a child creeper needed to die, he was okay to handle the matter.

“I am a middle son,” he told her. “I have two older brothers and two younger sisters. My eldest brother is a minister in our local church. My other siblings are educators. Walter is the minister, Richard is a science teacher, Beatrice teaches math, and Ida, music. She is also the choir director of the church in Charleston.”

“A Southern gent,” she said. “Did you all go to the same college so on game-day weekends you sported the colors of your Alma Mater with tailgate parties near the campus?”

“Funny,” he replied. “Yes, my family all graduated from South Carolina State, and they do take part in homecoming. My parents met there and married after graduate school.”

“So, are you a science minded person as well? What did you major in at South Carolina State?”

He turned to look at her. “No, I am the Bad Apple. I went to the Naval Academy at Annapolis and I am a trained and certified electrical engineer.”

“Shut up, Big Sexy!” she said, gripping the steering wheel. “Bad ass and smart. Okay, keep surprising me.”

“When I left the Navy, I did so as a Seal Team Commander,” he told her trying not to blush.

It was the pause which made her change her approach to the conversation. A sadness simmered in the atmosphere of things he wanted to share with her but was uncertain if the space was safe to do so. Helen paused as well, processing the information he’d given her to connect the dots. Her mind went to the conversation with Gabriel the Archangel, who had fed her pieces. Slow also did the same thing. Apple was waiting to see her deductive skills.

“I bet your minister of a father took exception to that line of work,” she said as she watched his eyes. His stare drilled into her as they sat the at traffic light. Apple pointed at a coffee shop and Helen hit the turn signal, pulling in. She parked the vehicle, waiting for him to say what was next.

“You’re brighter than you look,” he said.

“I’m deadlier than I look too, so what’s your fucking point?”

“Why are you here, Helen? This is confusing the hell out of me. You have no military training. What are you planning to do with these untrained natural skills of yours,” he said, almost looking angry.

“Skills?”

“Yes, you know how to read people like members of the CIA. You have a natural affinity to knowing what to say and what to do in every situation,” he said. “Honestly, you scare the shit out of me.”

Helen didn’t miss a beat. “If I have all of that and none of it has been trained to help me do anything but survive in this life, imagine how useful I could be if there was a home for my anger.”

She used the terms Gabriel had taught her on their first official meeting. “Tell me Apple, why do you do this? Why are you making your living doing what you do? Of course, I am also wondering, what do you see in me to train?”

He turned his body in the seat. “Not all Technicians are assassins, Helen. There are people who clean up after the work we do, women who solicit information, trackers, researchers, and chemists. Your strength may not require you to pull a trigger or cause the death of another. My job is to assess where you are and hone what is already there. You have a knack for people.”

“And your knack for boys, what is that about?”

This is information she knew he didn’t want to share. This is the information that would tell her exactly who this man was in his mind and in real life. What he shared next would explain more.

“My brother Walter caught me behind the barn at fifteen kissing Willie Baines,” he told her. “I’d hoped he wouldn’t tell our father, but he did, which made life at home hell for me, hence joining the Naval Academy.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. As a young black male, I learned about men and how they saw me as a human. The main ones, I found out, who publicly ostracized my predilection, were also the ones wanting to exploit it,” he said. “No matter where you go, there are men who will exploit the fear and uncertainty.”

“You make a safe space for the boys,” she said.

“I make a home for them to learn to be men, walk through this world as men. Choices you make behind closed doors are your private choices. I teach them basic life skills, tool usage, and how to live in the world as men. More importantly, I want them to know not all men in the world want to hurt them.”

“Admirable,” she said.

Her words were halted by the ringing of his phone. It was his Technician phone, and she knew because it looked exactly like hers. He answered, “The Bad Apple.”

His face changed incrementally as he listened to the caller. At the end of the minute and thirty seconds, and she knew because she timed it, anger entered the cab of the vehicle. He was mad, and Helen felt at odds with this version of the man.

“We have to go back, now,” he said.

She didn’t question, but got them back to the house as fast as possible. They arrived at the same white van which brought the boys. The same woman was there, but she looked frantic. Helen’s guts felt as if they were boiling. Whatever was in the van wasn't just bad. It was going to be terrible.

The vehicle barely came to a stop before Apple unfolded himself to climb out. He went to the van, hesitating to look at the frazzled woman, who was shaking her head no. Apple opened the van door, and Helen read his body language. Whatever was in that van was about to change the dynamic of the house and potentially all of their lives.