Page 67 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

“Long story, and I’m sure you’ll read about it in the paper tomorrow. It’s not fair and it’s one of the things I hate about our system. If you follow the system, it works. But when you miss even one piece, people fall through the cracks.”

“The system is made by the rich, for the rich. Sorry, sir, but your system is broken as fuck.”

“Well... I can see how you would say so.”

“Take your banana on the house today.”

“Oh you don’t need to do that.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re the only one who buys them. We are required by corporate to order them but I end up throwing them out because nobody buys them but you.” That last part was a lie. I didn’t throw them out, I took them home. I was starting to hate bananas.

“Well, you can keep the change, then.” And he slid his exact change across the counter. He winked and said, “You always put a smile on my face, Alice. I appreciate you.”

That was the first time in my entire life I’d ever heard those words.

Iread about the storyin the newspaper the next day. Sure enough, the front page had a photo of the accused serial rapist walking free, and a photo of my Banana Man standing in the back corner of the courthouse, arms crossed, glaring furiously, like an avenging angel that was planning to seek out his revenge whether the courts liked it or not.

The caption under the photo read,prosecutor Augustus Quinn, right, looks on as Silas Faulkner walks free.

Augustus Quinn. That was a much better name than Banana Man. Mister Quinn came in a few hours later, looking a little more tired than normal. He saw me reading the summary of the court case and leaned against the counter.

“I’m sorry he got off,” I said, ringing up his usual.

Augustus glared at the basket of fruit by the counter and bypassed it, grabbing a bear claw instead. “It’s pastry day.” I laughed as I changed his order.

“So, Alice. Tell me your story.”

I looked up at him while he sipped his coffee. It was a quarter to six, and we were the only ones in the gas station. He opened his bear claw and took a bite while he waited for me to talk.

“I don’t think I should tell you,” I said sadly.

“Why not?”

“Because I like the way you look at me. And I don’t really want to see it change.”

“And if I promise not to look at you with pity and disgust? Will you tell me a story? Distract me from the monotony of going into a job I hate, to work cases I hate, against people I hate?”

“My story will just give you more people to hate,” I shrugged. “That’s what the world is full of. Shitty people who do shitty things because they’re shits.”

“You have a really optimistic view on life, don’t you, babygirl?”

I stared back at him. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, just to prove my point. But as I opened my mouth, he said, “I grew up in the ghetto of Belle Glade.”

I snapped my mouth shut and listened in shock as he spoke.

“Mom was an alcoholic, dad fucked around and smoked like a chimney. I barely graduated high school. A teacher recognized potential in me, and tutored me after school, helping me graduate. He got me a job out of town and set me up with some young college students who all lived in a house together.

“Rent was cheap, and I worked full time. I met a few college professors when my roommates invited me to a Christmas party. One of them thought I just needed a chance... so he gave me a letter of recommendation.

“I ended up getting an undergrad degree in business administration, then did pre-law, and then law school. I met a beautiful woman and had three kids, all of whom hate me right now because of the divorce, but they’ll all go to college and have a good life and career because of one high school teacher’s kindness, and one college professor’s recommendation.

“I am where I am today because other people gave me a chance that I didn’t deserve. I don’t look at anyone as hopeless, because I was pretty much as hopeless as it got. Thing is, Alice, when you’re at rock bottom... only place you can go is up. So...” he took another sip of his coffee. “You going to tell me why a young, pretty, smart girl like you is working at a gas station in the sketchiest part of town during a night shift?”

I stared at him in amazement as I processed everything he told me. Then, wondering if I was about to lose my dignity from the only person on the planet who seemed to have any respect for me, I told him everything.

“I grew up in the ghetto of Belle Glade,” I smiled.

He smirked. “I know. You have a Glade High hoodie you wear sometimes.”

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