Brad

I spent last night with some delivery pizza, porn, and my comfortable bed. It wasn’t the most thrilling evening I’ve ever had, but it far surpassed every evening of the past three years of my life while I was locked up. It was the perfect way to kick off my new, simpler life.

My life is no longer the flashy sort of existence that it once was. That part of me was currently either fully dead or perhaps hibernating. My days of partying it up in Atlantic City and Las Vegas seem like a dream now, leaving a bad taste in my mouth after living my life differently for so long now. Don’t get me wrong, I had a blast at that time, but that was a different version of me. Now, when I think of all those weekends spent partying, it’s almost as if that wasn’t me and that life was another person entirely. Wearing expensive suits, spending thousands of dollars in one night, and indulging every carnal whim, while it feels nice and looks impressive, it isn’t on my immediate must-do list for my daily life anymore. I just don’t think that’s who I am anymore.

While I haven’t had the pleasure of a feminine touch for a few years, I’m not in a rush to sink into someone that might have the potential to rip my life apart again. I don’t know if I can ever look past the fact that any woman who gets close to me could tear me apart and set me back after all I’ve worked to overcome. That’s not to say I believe every single woman is the way Candy was. I’m not an idiot, but still my subconscious hasn’t gotten the memo yet.

You don’t have to get close to the broad, you can just “one and done.” You used to do that all the time! My selfish inner voice tries to persuade me. Another part of me knows that I need to feel compelled in order to let someone close to me like that again. And who’s to say I will ever have that? The closest I ever got to any sort of relationship turned out to be a complete lie. I shouldn’t let myself get that deep again.

One major thing that I need to do is purchase a car. With some money I had stowed away in an investment account, I had played the stock market and cashed in some of the earnings into my bank account. I’m not hurting for money and I need to make sure that I am able to get around.

An Uber takes me to the closest bank so I can get a cashier’s check for what I would hope would be enough to flat-out purchase a new car and then to a Toyota dealership. I don’t want anything flashy, just a comfortable and practical vehicle. I decide to purchase a 2016 Toyota Tundra with an extended cab, with gray paint and matching interior. I take whatever extras were already on the vehicle and hand over the check as if I were paying for dinner. I don’t even bat an eyelash. It’s a lot of money, I know that, and it’s confirmed by the salesman’s widening eyes as he looks at it We finalize the rest of the paperwork as their finance person tries to sell me on additional packages so she can get her part of the sale. I drive off the lot an hour later in my new vehicle and head straight to the city.

I park across the street from the building where Mad Designs is housed and feel empty. I look to the 8^th floor, in the general direction of where my office was and sigh.

What am I doing here? Being here solves none of my problems. I have other priorities to tend to before I can even fathom stepping foot into that building again. After one last look, I start the engine and drive off, headed to my appointment and the start of my new life.

I walk into the probation office and, for the first time in quite a while, I get sweaty palms and butterflies in my stomach. I’m not sure why I’m nervous, but I walk in feeling like I am going to hurl.

And then I see her.

She’s sitting at the front desk, looking out of place, like she doesn’t belong in that spot. Next to the other woman behind the counter, they were as different as night and day. We make eye contact as I approach the desk and announce myself. While her desk partner stutters and stares, I take my seat and wring my hands together as I wait for my counselor.

While I wait, I watch the two women. The one who looks like she belongs somewhere else has ebony black hair and ivory skin. She is gorgeous with her juicy red lips and her piercing green eyes. She is pretending to not look at me, as if she is in a daze, but her eyes assess me. Then she looks away, but her eyes find me quickly again. She’s wearing a simple shirt that makes me think of wallpaper in a home from the 1970’s, but she makes it look modern and I wish I could see if she is wearing pants or a skirt. Unfortunately, the giant high-rise desk is in the way so I can’t see how long her legs are or if her ass is as rounded as I am hoping.

Soon, my probation officer comes out to greet me. Before coming to greet me, he speaks quietly to the two women, paying particular attention to the one I want to know more about. A slight twinge of jealousy comes over me, but I bury it and compose myself.

I have no time for matters of the heart.

Plus, in my experience, women can be unbalanced!

My parole officer approaches me and holds out his meaty hand.

“Reed Crutcher. You must be Bradford Maddox, pleasure to meet you.” His voice is deeper than I was anticipating. I reach my hand out to shake his.

I follow him to the elevator and as I pass the reception desk, I smile and nod to the mystery woman. After a short ride in the elevator, we step out onto a busy floor with offices along the outer perimeter and rows of cubicles in the center. Reed walks me into an office near the elevators and takes a seat behind the big desk. I sit in the worn leather chair in front and hitch a leg over my knee to get comfortable as I lean back into the chair.

Reed Crutcher is not at all what I expected him to be. While he’s a tall man, he’s not daunting. He’s got red hair, a thin face, broad shoulders but a lean frame. The creases in his forehead make him look like he’s angry or heavily contemplating something. His eyes hold a lot of emotion, but I don’t think it’s purely cruelty, but he portrays a hardness to him, he has a balance of hard and soft. Being in his line of work, you have to be hard, or at least portray it. Overall, he seems friendly enough, but with an edge.

“So, I’m going to give it to you straight. I don’t foresee you being any risk at all to society and I don’t think you’re a runner.”

“No, sir.” I say with confidence.

“You fucked up. I read your file and it just looks like you made some real shitty decisions against your own blood. Correct?”

“Basically.”

“Basically? Care to elaborate?”

“I took a woman’s side over my blood, lied and everyone knew it, lost everything, and now here I am.”

“You served three years, got out a year early, but you tried to request to the warden that you fulfill your full sentence, any reason?” Reed asks, curiously peering at me over the manila file he’s holding.

“I didn’t want it to look like I was skipping out on what was handed to me. I also had nothing to come back to.” I shrug.

“Regardless, as I’m sure you know. If you are requested to leave, you’re done. Most guys would jump at that chance. All right, so what are your job options? You’re no longer are a part of Mad Designs, correct?”

“Correct. Those ties were severed along with everything else, unfortunately.” I nod.

“So, job experience. What do you have?”

“While I was in, I got a certificate in software development. I’ll be pounding the pavement and looking for something in that industry.”

“You also have a business degree with a minor in marketing?”

“Correct.”

“So you have options,” Reed says, setting the file on his desk as I nod. He sets his elbows on the desk and leans forward.

“Because of your sentence served and getting out a year early for prison overpopulation and taking the education route while inside, you have a good deal of diminution credits, which will shorten your parole period significantly. You had no issues with other inmates and you had only one visit to medical for legit reasons. There were no orders to do any drug testing and you won’t be restricted on alcohol intake while on parole. We’ll have monthly meetings and I’m sure that after six months we can close up everything. Now here’s the shit news: parole costs money. I’m not sure if you know this, or if your counselor inside informed you of this. Also, I will have to make at least two home visits.”

“I’m aware. I have money; that’s no issue. And my home is wide open.”

“Good. Now, I ask that you don’t leave the state unless its work related, and always keep me in the loop.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Also, if you need anything, I’m available to you. Now I have one last question. What defines you as you today?”

I thought about it for a minute. Random question, but I’ll play along. Who am I?

“I’m just a guy who wished he had made better decisions. I know what I did was messed up and if I could, I would change everything and have my family back. But today, I’m a free man. I’m just me, and I will pick up the pieces I left behind and get my shit back together. I’m a citizen, a student and a man. That’s who I am today. A guy whose second chance is still being written.”

Reed stands. He’s a few inches taller than I am. As he rounds his desk, I stand as well.

“Bradford, I have a good feeling about you.”

“Please call me Brad,” I say, holding my hand out.

Reed clasps my hand tightly and smiles as he claps his other hand on my shoulder.

“You’re different than most of the people who come in here. You’re a breath of fresh air,” he says.

“Thanks.” I force a smile. “I think.”

Reed leads me out of his office and presses the elevator button to go down. As we enter the lobby, the beauty from the reception desk sidles up next to him and pokes him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Sup, short-stack?” Reed asks affectionately.

“I’m bored. Feed me?” she pleads, her doe eyes looking up at him.

Reed laughs lightly.

“Brad, this is my sister Mika. Mika, this is my newest client Brad.”

She leans forward and offers me a shy smile with a short wave.

“Nice to meet you,” I say genuinely.

I’m happy that she’s his sister and not his girlfriend. I know I shouldn’t care as right now my focus is not on hooking up with a chick. My goal is to get my life back on track, get my ass a job and eventually find my way to get back into the Maddox brothers’ good graces. As challenging a feat as the last thing is, I’m determined to get there.

Mika

I kept my eye on the elevator waiting for it to open so I could possibly get a proper introduction. I got my introduction but then I went shy.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, meeting my eyes, a small smile on his face.

I waved like a dork and smiled back at him, unsure what to say next and not sound like a complete dumbass. So instead I kept quiet.

“What do you want to do for lunch?” Reed asks as I linger beside him as we walk inside the elevator..

“Nothing too heavy, I need to do some online webinar later and I can’t focus for shit.” I can’t focus because of the hot slice of man standing on the other side of this elevator.

“Some foods are good for focus and memory, especially superfoods like salmon, walnuts, avocados, blueberries – just to name a few,” Brad comments.

“You a food genius, too?” Reed asks, swinging his gaze to Brad.

“Nah, I’ve always tried to keep my diet healthy. I used to make sure that I ate a few of those things each day,” he replies.

“I don’t think that food is really Mika’s problem,” Reed says, and I feel my face flush. How the hell does he know? “She’s usually lazy on Mondays,” he finishes as I breathe out the breath I was unknowingly holding.

I playfully push Reed a little. “I’m no more lazy than usual.” I pout.

“Mika is a nurse over at General, and she acts like she can’t do anything for herself,.” Reed explains with a quiet laugh.

“Why feed myself when you can feed me? Nice to meet you, Brad.” I smile and wave awkwardly as I make my way to reception again, and sit beside Janet. I watch my brother and Brad talk quietly by the front doors, and then shake hands before Brad leaves. My brother turns back and begins to walk back to the reception desk as I try to look anywhere except at Brad walking away.

“Mika, why are you sitting back down here?” Reed asks.

“Bored.” I shrug, trying to act indifferent to his new client when in truth my heart is racing from the small interaction.

My brother eyes me, shakes his head and then retreats to the elevator again. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Stay out of trouble.”

Janet clears her throat. “Well?” she asks once we’re alone.

“Well, what?” I retort.

“What was he like?” Janet asks.

“How would I know?”

“You just spoke to him.”

“In that two minute time frame when I spoke to them, I got his entire life story, then he threw me against the wall and had his way with me. You didn’t see that? It totally happened.”

“That would be so hot.” Janet fans herself.

“You’re ridiculous. We exchanged pleasantries and that’s basically it.”

“Did he look at you all smoldering and shit?”

“Smoldering and shit?” I laugh. “No, he smiled. Other than that, he is off limits, he just got out of jail and he’s a client of Reed’s. I’m sure there are some rules there.”

“There’s not. You don’t work here.” I level her with a look. “Just saying’.”

“I’m going to go sit far away from you.” I say standing, pushing the chair out.

“Sure you are. You’re going to go internet stalk Brad Maddox.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

Lunch with Reed is difficult. All I want to do was ask him questions about Brad Maddox. What’s he like? What’s he into? Is he single? With great effort, I manage to make conversation about how Mom took me shopping over the weekend, about how my sink needs to be fixed, and about my last patient’s triple bypass surgery. Reed is always fascinated with surgery stories, so I usually had one cued up in my memory bank to share with him.

The entire day I manage to stay away from Google and refrain from looking up Brad. After lunch, I go to the gym and then I make a stop at the grocery store to purchased something for the next few nights’ dinner so I can avoid walking to the corner store.

Once I get home, all my resolve is used up and I spend the next several hours looking up everything that I can about Bradford Maddox.

I’m not sure how much of what I read is real and how much is fabricated. He spent the last three years behind bars for lying in court. He lied about a marriage between his cousin and a stripper. All parties who perpetuated the stripper’s story either got jail or parole. Brad took jail time and refused any special treatment. By defying his cousin in court, he lost everything that he had, including his job at the company the Maddox family owns – the fashion empire based here in the city, Mad Designs. There is little information on Brad while he was in jail. There was speculation by the local news during the first year after he went to jail about whether or not his family would visit him, but eventually all chatter died down.

I felt sorry for him, but then again, I didn’t.

Something must have made him lie to those he cared about and collude with someone else. While I couldn’t guess what the motivation was behind it all, it must had been serious.

It’s not my job to find out the reasoning. Brad is not a patient of mine; he’s someone I don’t even know.