Izzy thought the name was funny until he realized that there was actually a vaguely clunky eyeglasses shaped stripe of dark gray on its otherwise mostly white face. Clever.
“Well, we’ll be in the living room if anyone needs me,” Justin said, and Lettie nodded, leading the pack around the house somewhere.
“She seems special,” Izzy blurted out, because he honestly thought so.
Justin narrowed his eyes, then realized he was being genuine, and nodded. “She really is. Okay, follow me.”
* * * *
The house, huge as it may have been, was tastefully and cozily decorated. Not that Izzy saw much of it to begin with. He mostly just followed Justin’s brisk pace to a spacious family room that was dominated by a massive sectional.
“Please take a seat, we’re not that formal here,” Justin said, as he went to pick up what Izzy thought had to be whatever information on Izzy Mrs. Rossi had given him from a nearby end table.
“So, here’s the situation,” Justin started as he sat down on the other end of the large couch from Izzy. “I know some things about you. What I ask from Wanda is pretty heavy pre-screening before she even suggests me new workers. I can’t have violent offenders or such here, not with some of the other workers and my family being sort of vulnerable.”
Izzy nodded and tried to stay relaxed. “Yeah, I get that.”
“So while I know things, I’d like to hear it from you.” Justin looked at him and smiled in a friendly way. “How come you’re here?”
“Well, I’m twenty-eight, and I got out of prison on good behavior couple of months ago. I’m on parole for now and I need a job so they’ll know I’m able to be a productive part of society.” Or some shit. He decidedly didn’t say the last part, but something told him Justin heard it anyway.
Chuckling, Justin nodded. “That’s usually how it goes with parolees. How long of a sentence did you have and for what?”
Slightly annoyed that Justin had him relate information he would have literally there on his lap on that piece of paper, Izzy held onto his temper. “I got six years for going into the wrong car on the wrong night. It was stolen, which I knew, because the buddy that offered me the ride was notorious for that sort of thing. I was high, so I didn’t care. There were drugs in the car, but they weren’t mine. I was smarter than that.”
Something about the drugs made Justin tense, but Izzy wanted to get the story out in one go, so he continued. “I don’t know how it happened. I honestly don’t remember, I was that high. One moment we’re driving and suddenly there’s cops and stuff. The guy ran over a pedestrian. I was told later it was a woman who was pregnant. Early, but still.”
Justin nodded seriously. “How long did you have left when you got out?”
“Two years. But there’s overpopulation and I did nothing wrong while inside, so they said I could get out on parole. That’s for three years total, so the sentence and a year more.” And it sucked, but it was also so much better than being behind bars.
“Wanda says you don’t do drugs and she tests you regularly.”
It was a statement, not a question, but somehow the vibe from Justin made Izzy explain further anyway.
“I got sober in prison, not that I was really an addict before that. I guess I used what I did to fit in, because the guys I hung out with were sort of the only people I’d ever felt like I belonged with even remotely, you know—” He snapped his mouth shut. That was far more information than he’d thought he’d ever volunteer to a stranger. “Anyway,” he tried to recover. “I smoke weed sometimes, but that’s it. Mrs. Rossi says it’s fine”
“We have zero tolerance on the property.” Every hint of friendliness Izzy had picked up from Justin was gone, just like that, as though someone had flipped a switch. His gaze was hard and assessing. “No drugs, no alcohol. There’s a spot where people can smoke cigarettes outside the break room, but I like to discourage that, too.”
“Okay, well, I don’t smoke, so that’s fine. And I wouldn’t smoke weed at work anyway.” He wouldn’t, that was unprofessional and Mrs. Rossi—and it was so fucking weird hearing Justin call her Wanda—had told him Justin was nothing if not serious about his business.
Justin held his gaze a moment longer, as though he was searching for a lie, and then abruptly glanced down at his paperwork and changed the subject. “It says here that you live in Moreno Valley?”
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a drive but so far my car’s okay.” He’d been lucky that one of his housemates had been able to get him that car. Izzy still owed him five hundred bucks for it, as his gate money, the $200 he’d gotten from the state when they let him out, had gone towards paying for the room in that house.
“Well, once I give you a tour of the premises, you’ll see the employee housing. If you’d rather live on the property, let me know and I’ll keep that in mind whenever there’s an opening.”
“I’d look into renting a place in Yucaipa or somewhere, but I don’t really have the money to leave my current place. It’s dirt cheap and I’ll need money for the gas.” It sucked, bad.
“Yeah, I’ve had people who have the same problem before. You can ask around when you meet the other workers, see if they have leads on rooms for rent closer to us.”
It sounded good, so Izzy had to ask. “Are you saying you’re hiring me?”
“I don’t see why not. Wanda vouched for you. I guess the trial period will tell how you actually fit in, but you know, I believe in giving people a chance to show what they’re made of.” Justin got to his feet and Izzy followed suit, unable to not smile with relief.
“This is…I mean, I haven’t had any call backs and only a handful of interviews, and I’ve been looking at anything. So thank you, Mr. Abbot.”
“Oh, just call me Justin. We’re pretty informal here.” Justin shook his hand again, then gestured toward the front of the house. “Let’s go check out where you’ll be working and check the office to see if we can get you a schedule already or if I’ll just email it to you once we have it.”
His head spinning a bit, Izzy led Justin to his car and drove his new boss to his new job site, and holy shit did thinking of those words feel good.
