Page 87 - The Houseguest

THE CONDO
Promptly at our appointment time of 3:00, Brian spotted me as I
walked in, a man fitting the description he had been given of the 6’ Lance Richards. I proceeded directly to his table and sat down. I knew he was wondering how I was so sure I had the right table. He suddenly realized in dismay; it was the suit. The poor soul had let himself believe he could assimilate easily into society after prison. I had found out things about him, things he didn’t include in his profile. I knew he was fighting the mental urge to just succumb to his father’s belittling and admit he would always be a failure. I knew, that he knew, he needed to drum up at least a shred of confidence to succeed at this new venture. “So, you’re Brian Gabel,” I remember expelling the words that had actually felt distasteful inside my mouth. We shared no handshake, no need for introduction. This was going to be nothing more than a business transaction, which should suit Brian just fine. From what I knew of him, he wasn’t one to need friends, and this would eliminate the need for unnecessary small talk. I was sure he would question why someone so gruff would be involved in a program to help convicts. His mind was pondering: Maybe Lance had known a convict? Maybe someone in his family was a convict? It would take some time, but eventually he would learn the truth: I didn’t want to be a convict.
I continued, “So, you were in for kidnapping?” Brian nodded his head in silence. Apparently, my aggressive mannerisms were making his brain incapable of forming words. “I understand there were extenuating circumstances?” I inquired further, obviously implying that I wanted more details. Brian’s ire began to rise as he countered: “I was
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life