Page 29 of Fight or Flight

If Brody heard that, he doesn’t show it as he steps into the cubical, occupying all that was left of the already small space.

“Have a seat, Damon,” Sandra motions to the empty chair next to her, but he just waves her off.

“I’ll better stand; you know what’s with the leg...” he smiles charmingly and taps the stick on the side of his leg quickly.

She blinks as if she’s mesmerized by his presence before sitting down in her own chair.

“Of course, of course,” then she seems to remember that she has a job to do other than to ogle men, and again grabs the papers. “So, as I already informed Damon earlier on the phone, I approved the provided workplace as well as the position of a general laborer...”

“Wait, I didn’t apply for anything yet...” I muse as I sit back down.

She glances at the big man again and then smiles at me. “Well, you should be glad then that you got the job so easy, Aidan. Most ex-convicts really struggle with finding stable positions after their release. Now, you have one thing less to worry about. I would say that it’s awfully generous of Damon to first write the letter to the Parole Commission and then even secure a job for you. That man has a big heart.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” I explode and look between those two people, wondering what kind of sick game they are playing.

“Calm down, Aidan. That’s not a way to speak to a lady, now, is it?” Brody throws a threatening glare my way that makes me mutter a quick sorry toward Sandra before he continues. “I run a construction company. It’s not that big, but I need people. You need a job to start again. If I were you, I wouldn’t overthink it. This is probably the only chance that you will get to restore your life that quick.”

“But what’s the catch?” I ask with a glare of my own.

“There’s just one, really. Don’t make me regret it because if you cross me, there won’t be getting out again. I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be making a full sentence, and we both know that if that happens, you won’t get out before you’re forty. So, all I ask is that you come, do your job, and don’t get in my way.”

“Yeah, okay. But why?” I press, unable to just let it go. I wasn’t born yesterday. If this is some kind of revenge plan he came up with, he better think again because I’m not falling for his bullshit.

Brody presses his lips together as if he’s on his tail end of being patient. “Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? After everything I've put you through. You must fucking hate my guts. And here you are, offering me a job and a letter to the Parole Commission? What’s that about, man?”

I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me, but something close to pity crosses his face, and I don’t fucking like it.

“Sandy, would you be so kind to leave us for a minute?” He asks my parole officer, who’s been watching all of this unfold as if she was just watching her favorite soap opera. All that’s missing is some popcorn in her lap.

She jumps to her feet and goes around the desk. “Of course, of course. Take all the time you need, Damon.”

He shuffles to the side to let her pass, but she still ends up rubbing against him as she exits. Her hips give an extra sway as she continues down the corridor.

If this was happening anywhere else, I would snort at her overtly sexualized behavior, but since I’m left alone with the only guy who is fully entitled to hold a grudge against me and to want to destroy me, I hold it in and just frown when he falls into the chair that Sandra just vacated.

“What about your leg? I thought you couldn’t sit?”

Brody gives me a knowing look and smiles with a shrug.

“Well, Sandra is mostly harmless. And she’s good at her job; despite the flirty act, she actually cares. But sometimes, she struggles when it comes to boundaries, so I try to keep my distance. The woman has some serious daddy issues, so if you’re thinking about it. Don’t.”

“I wasn’t,” I grimace. “Honestly, this is the last thing on my mind right now.”

Brody leans forward a bit, resting his forearms on the cane.

“Glad to hear it. So, you want to know why I’m helping you,” he says with a sigh and then gives me an analyzing look as if to check how much can he tell me.

He scratches the stumble on his cheek and looks to the side for a moment before he starts to speak. “I was angry, man. So fucking angry when it all went down. If I were to be the one making the decision back then, all of you would face life in prison. I didn’t care who you were, why you did what you did, and who came up with which idea. I lost so much because of that day. I lost my job, a big chunk of skin, my self-respect, and most importantly, my girl. I hated you, and I hated myself for letting that bastard fool me.” His fists clench on the small handle of the walking stick, and all I can do is gulp, hoping that he won’t beat me to death with it within the next five minutes. But then he relaxes his posture and looks back at me with a serious expression. “For a time, after I was released from the hospital and during all those court sessions, I was obsessed with all of you. With finding Wallace. With getting my revenge. When you were all sentenced, it eased just a bit, but I still kept tabs on you and your friends.”

“They’re not my friends,” I spit out, a little too harsh.

One of Brody’s eyebrows lifts, but he doesn’t comment, set on continuing with his story.

“After a time, along with my pain, some of the hatred eased out even more, and I was able to look at the events of that night with clearer eyes. I remembered the faces, who said what, and that sort of thing. You weren’t there in that warehouse, right?” He asks, and it’s not really a question, but I still shake my head no.

“But I was the one that knocked you down...” I say, lowering my gaze, not being able to look at the guy any longer. The resentment I hold for that one moment that changed the course of my life irreversibly remains in me, like a venomous snake swirling around in my blood, poisoning me.

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