Chapter Two- Relations

17 February 2012

I pull my hammer from my tool belt and a nail, driving the nail through the piece of sheet rock that will now hold the insulation. I continue on the chalked line until I finished. I step back and look on to my new sheet. Measuring and marking out new lines for the nails. After I put up the next piece I step back, lifting my hat to relieve an itch as I examen my work.

In my mid-twenties I went and learned carpentry from  a small town company. They taught me all the basics, the rest I read and practiced on my own. I moved out here and decided to look up any carpentry openings and found this one. Within the week I was hired and handed odd jobs all over because I am willing to travel. I submit my hours and the amount for gas and I receive full reimbursement. 

"You really like this carpentry work?" 

"Yes I do. It's relaxing and distracting. It puts my mind to ease and on other things. And in the end you have something greta- this may only be an addition, but it will be firm, lasting against mother nature."

"Coming from a killer," Edward jeers.

I half smile and move on the the next piece and the next and the next. Once all the sheet rock is up, I grab a bucket of compound and tape and behind to fuse the joints. After I finish I pull out my prepaid flip phone and call my boss.

"It's La Croix, I have put up all the sheet rock and mudded the joints. Tomorrow I will return and smooth them out," I say in French.

"Good, good. Thank you Gordan Have a good night."

"You too, Jean."

I close my phone, put on my brimmed hat and walk out the door with my tool belt on my left shoulder. Opening the window to the bed of the truck I hang it on a hook to the right. I close it back up and return to the driver seat. taking my coffee mug from the holder, I take a sip of semi-cold coffee and return it after. Starting the engine I pull away from the site and head back into town for some more supplies and the weekly chores. 

Walking out of the gym place, I see the same man I talked to earlier about beating his wife, doing what I advised him not to do. And thats punching his wife and throwing her into the house. I drop my bags and strut over to him; as he raises his right fist I grab it and pull back, causing him to fall backwards. As he does I take the opportunity to send my left fist into his throat and sternum. He falls to the ground coughing and gasping for air, hands on his throat acting like it's going to help.

"The hit to the sternum knocked the wind out of you, the throat was just pain." I walk to his right side and squat down so he can hear me, "Now, you're going to leave. And I mean tonight. Pack up your s**t and leave because I don't want to have to make you leave on my terms. Got me?"

He painfully nods his head.

"Good. Now that we have an understanding. Be gone by ten o'clock p.m. I'll be here until you do leave," I smile and stand up.

I walk over to Becky and help her up.

"Pack up his things, he is leaving tonight. I'm going to go pick up my bags and then I will be right back," I put my hands on her cheeks and use my thumbs to wipe her tears away. "He won't hurt you anymore. I promise," I smile and kiss her forehead.

"Jack, you can't be killing anyone! It's too risky!"

"I know. Hence why I chose to have him leave. No one is notified and there is no mess. And no attention is brought to me."

I pick up my bags and return to her house. She lets me in and allows me to put my stuff on the such while I watched him pack. Following him room to room to room, watching him intently.

"Ribs weren't enough? I figured they'd be bruised enough to teach a lesson."

He stops and thinks for a moment, then he choses to spin around fast and attempt to right hook me. I duck and re-hit his ribs where I had damaged previously, as he folds over I drive my knee into his ribs again, thrusting hard enough to make sure I heard a handful of snaps and cracks. He yells out in pain and rolls onto his back. I lean down and grab him by the back of the head.

"Now I want you to hurry up and stop your games. I'm getting impatient," I say as a sharp pain begins in my temple, my hand lets his head thump to the floor.

I stand up and lean against the door jam, waiting for him to stop his whining and continue his packing. About forty-five minutes later I was escorting him out of the house and into his truck for the last time. Re-adjusting my hat I turn to Becky and smile.

"You have a good night," and begin to walk away.

"WAIT!"

I stop and turn around.

"Thank you," she says with a shaky, out stretched hand.

"No problem. Just find yourself a good man," I smile and go back to my truck before this got more complicated."

I go to where my bags rest in the snow and pick them up, going to the back of the truck I open the cap hatch and drop them inside. Hoping into the cab of the truck I drive off to my little camping area. About two hours later I've eaten and now rest with my violin, strumming along in the silence. My cell phone abruptly breaks the silence and my tranquility by the fire. 

I flip it open and answer in French, "Bonjour, je vous présente M. de La Croix."

"No, you are Jack Style. And this is your brother."