|Posted on January 18, 2011 at 5:09 PM|
Some moments later, Fredrick had turned east onto Nine Mile Road. The same road that Jackie's apartment had laid its bricks next to on the south side. They were above three miles away from the apartment, shortening there distance as they drove. Nine Mile Road in the center Warren section mainly consisted of industrial buildings. On the corners of each major intersection would be a gas station, a restaurant, a fast food joint or even a strip mall.
The two didn't spoke since Donald had insulted Fred's measly attempt to get some scene knocked into him. While the only noise being made was the soft sound of the engine, as the silence between them stayed Donald had thought about all the hard times he had given his mother and his little brother. He had felt some remorse. But had made mindful excuses on unconvincing the both of them. His mother is miserable and Sean should respect his privacy. Otherwise, Donald could agree that Sean shouldn't be seeing Don's drug deals in progress.
Besides selling weed, he also enjoyed smoking it. An escape it was. He could get away from the idea of not being able to get a job, or to get away from his home mentally. Even if it was only temporarily, but it was a good escape. He then thought about what it would take to quit Mary Jane. What could work is if he had a good golden path to lead him out of the situation. His home life was not so good to his standards. He couldn't deal in pot without his special needs brother knocking at his locked door asking what he was doing. He also didn't enjoy living with his mother who was now more critical than ever with his use and selling of Mary Jane. Besides that, he also questioned his love for her. She was extremely miserable, not only yelling at him for his addiction to Marijuana, but also at times yelling at Sean for some of the small stuff.
Honestly, Donald wished he could do something. But he thought applying at the temp office nearby him wouldn't do much. Sure, it was free to apply and you'd be on the horn if something comes up. But it was slow, very slow. For proof, his friend Jeremy's father had only worked three days out of the four months he had been with the temp service. So the temp service was out of the question. Then the possibility of Fredrick getting him something had come to mind. Perhaps he could pull a few strings. He is upper management at his hob.
"Okay. Fred, you want the truth?" Donald asked.
Fred couldn't beat the red light at Grosebeck and Nine Mile; he slowed down to a stop and gave his full attention to him.
"You want to know the truth?" Donald asked again.
"Yes, I want the truth." Fred said, the tone of voice suggested he was still wiled up.
"There is no fucking work out there." Donald simply answered.
Fred seemed to lighten up and quickly looked over to see the red light was still on.
"Don't worry, that light isn't going to turn green for a while." Donald assured.
"So that's why you sell it?" Fred asked looking at him.
"You do smoke it too, don't you?"
Donald was going to say yes, but he was looking for a better answer to add to that yes.
Fred looked at him, "Do you?"
"Yes, I do. Not as much as I sell it."
Fred didn't reply. He looked over to see that the light was still red.
"Jeez, how long do I have to wait for this light?"
Donald had saw that the left turn traffic on Grosebeck highway was moving. Southeast Michigan's traffic light system was different from all the others. With most major intersections, there would be seven traffic signals lined up. Four of the basic, two individual right turn signals, if the road provided a right turn lane, and the left turn signal stayed in the middle with the famous little left sign above it. This system ensured safe travel and easy left turns for everyone. But the downside was a motorist could stay in front of the red light for ages. A motorist without an engine cooling fan on a hot day would be in trouble.
"It's about to turn green." Donald said.
And he was right, it turned green.
Fred put a little step on the gas and asked, "So, you don't smoke it as much as you sell it?"
"That's right." Donald said with a nod.
Fred believed that. He knew Donald was being sincere about it.
He kept his attention to the road and asked, "Why?"
"Because, I can't get a job and I live with a miserable-ass person. With no way to get out of it."
"A miserable-ass person?"
"Well, maybe she's miserable because you don't help out. Sean has told me some horror stories."
"I got some of my own."
"Donald, I'm glad you are being straight and honest with me. But you are selling and smoking pot in front of Sean. He's a special-needs person."
"Yes, I know. I know that very well." Donald then lifted his hands, "I'm guilty of it."
Him raising his hands had caught Fred's attention.
"But Mom had cussed Sean out a couple of times. She also had hit him once or twice."
"What?" Fred couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Just watch the road, our place is coming up soon." Donald said while pointing to the road.
Fred looked back to the road.
"Yes, Mom has cussed Sean out for the smallest things. Also, since Sean doesn't know any better, one time a friend of mine was knocking at the front door. He just opened the door without asking who it was. Mom got pissed and called him a motherfucker and slapped him a few times." Donald said.
Fredrick didn't know whether to believe that or not.
"Are you serious?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm serious." Donald said, then asked, "has he told you about Mom? He seems to be just talking about me."
Fred thought to himself, 'Which is worse? You doing drugs in front of him or him being slapped for something small.'
"Well, no. He hasn't mentioned that." Fred said.
"Because he's scared of mom." Donald assured.
The two of them had arrived at the apartment. Fred took the visitor spot and the two exited. Donald had a key to the apartment breezeway and also to his door. Fred thought that Jackie may have been home as he called for her.
"She isn't home." Donald said.
To which Fred replied, "Now, I've noticed."
"The lights wouldn't be on."
"What do you mean by that?" Fred asked while he shut the front door.
"When she is alone in the house, she has the lights off. Some weird shit, I don't know." Donald said.
Fred looked at him funny.
"Hey, I'm not here often minus the times I have to keep an eye on Sean. But when he is at school, I'm out and about."
"I'll get you the cash."
"If it's drug money, I don't want it."
"You won't know the difference."
"I don't want it."
"Okay, fine. I was just trying to help."
"Well, I want to help you instead."
"You did, you bailed me out."
"Yes, but I can help you with the job part."
"What, an office job?" Donald grinned.
"No, actually, they need a custodian."
He didn't like that, "A custodian? They don't get paid shit."
"Ten dollars an hour."
Donald appeared reconsidering, "Well, alright."
Fred put his index finger up, "But under one condition."
"You have to stop smoking or selling pot."
Donald thought about it.
"I need a yes or a no."
"I got to get the hell out of this place first."
Fred appeared confused, "What do you mean?"
"I mean to get out of Warren. This place is filled with people who are interested buy pot from me. This neighborhood is going to hell in a hand basket. I've been asked if I sold cocaine and meth."
"You don't sell or do any of that, do you?"
"No," Donald said with a strong voice, "but what I am saying is that the people around here are druggies. This area around here is falling apart. There are so many drug houses in the area."
"You mean, you need the motivation?"
"I need to get the hell out of here."
This raised a lot of questions for Fred. If Donald wanted to leave Warren or at least his mom's apartment for good, why does he live here to sell pot? But he believed that Donald did want out of this situation, he really wanted out. He just needed the proper motivation. To Fred, all people could change if you get them out of the situation at hand.
"You can live with me. You can get rides to work from me until you get your own car." Fred assured.
"With you? No way man, you girlfriend wouldn't like that."
"Well, where are you going to go? You want to leave Warren, don't you?"
"I do. But I'm not living with you."
"Well... let's discuss it. Just pack a bag, you staying with me today."
"What, no. I'll stay here."
"No, I want to make sure you are motivated to turn your life around, Donald."
"Well, in order for me to help you and for you to get out of Warren, you going to need to stay at my place until you get the proper means to be out on your own."
"Listen, just pack a pair of clothes. I'll be waiting out here. And for you to be done with smoking pot, if you have any of it laying around in your room, I want to see you flush it down the toilet."
"You've got it." Donald assured. He walked to his room.
Fredrick decided to be an eavesdropper and walked over to Jackie's room to take a look inside. He saw that the room was very messy. They're were random papers and magazines on the floor. The bed wasn't made. Fred had thought to himself that something was seriously wrong with this picture, something was very wrong. He took a more in-depth look at the papers below him. They appeared to be random pieces of junk mail and unpaid bills. Sean could of made a mess of this room, but something deep and dark was going on with his ex-wife he had feared.
The thing with Jackie was of her independence and her will to keep it. He knew of that before and after they were together. But besides that, Jackie could keep a house. Even better than his now girlfriend. While he smiled upon that thought, something in the pile of papers that were on the floor had caught his eye and interest. He bend down to pick it out of the floor and at the same time Donald stepped in,
"What the hell are you doing in here?" He asked.
Fred looked to him and stood up with an embarrassed smile.
"Um, nothing." Fred said.
Donald grinned and shook his head, he didn't buy that, but he peered into the piece of paper Fred was holding. It was a picture of Lila Hass.
"Oh, holy shit." Donald said.
"What?" Fred looked to the piece of paper. It was a glossy photo of Lila Hass, as said below the picture portion of the paper, with in red marker, next to her name, it said '= bitch.'
"You know who she is?" Fred asked.
"Yeah, it's the girl that was in the car with me and mom when she crashed it Thirteen Years ago."
Fred appeared confused, "What?"
Donald said, "Lila Hasserman. Part of the Hasserman family that lived in Los Angeles." Donald said.
Fred still had the look of confusion.
"Mom used to drive for them back in Los Angeles, before she moved here."
"She used to be a driver?" Fred asked.
"She was there servant, she was a maid for the Hasserman family."
"She was a maid?"
Donald looked surprised, "I thought she told you that, or I told you that."
"About the accident when you were six? Yes, I know." Then Fred looked at the picture for a split second and asked, "but she was in the car with you two?"
"Yes, she was. Did mom ever tell you about that job she had as a maid?"
"No. She never told me that."
Donald was amazed at this. After all the years she knew Fred, she never spoke of the Hasserman family or even about the job the family played the role of her boss. He remembered his mother saying to him before moving to Michigan to keep the accident and the job loss a secret. Donald did keep the job a secret, but not the accident. Like Sean now, Donald back then would fear his mother's wrath. That stopped when he reached ten years old. He still never got his way to telling Fred that job loss secret obviously, although he had told close friends about it. He may of thought that his mother did spill the beans to Fred. Now, he had figured out he was wrong.
"Who were the Hassermans?" Fred asked Donald.
Donald sure had a lot of explaining to do.