A Prison Break

After the fake tears were wiped a few times, Lana started in on how she had tried and tried to get jobs, applied everywhere within walking distance and couldn't get anything, even at the fast food joints. She said that without her allowance it was going to be the summer from hell and what would she do in the fall? She'd never be able to do anything fun, or buy any clothes, or get little things that were really necessary. She'd never see any of her friends if she had no money. More faux tears started dropping from her eyelashes.

I stopped listening. A few minutes later I said was going outside to have a smoke. I had two cigs. When I got back to the visiting room, the crying had stopped. When I sat down at the table. Lana smiled at Barb and said she was going to get a drink of water since she didn't have any money for a snack.

Barb looked at me with intense eyes. "Give her some money for a soda and a snack."

My jaw clenched. I guess my eyes were intense too.

"Please, just a couple dollars."

My gut knotted again, but I pulled my wallet out and gave the little bitch two dollars.

Lana smiled at her mother. "Thanks, Mom." She gave me a smile too, a smug variation.

As soon as her hot, pouting apple ass swayed away, Barb started in on me.

"Maybe we shouldn't cut off her allowance. It is hard to get a job. I know. I've been through it all my life. I..."

The "we" really got me angry. I cut her off. "Barb, she's playing you, and you goddamn well know it. She's lying about everything. You know what really scares the hell out'a me?"

Her eyes teared a little. She knew I was telling the truth but she didn't want to believe me nor admit it. "What?"

"What if she walked in here, and told you I had a woman over, I was fucking some other woman, or... or even worse, what if she came in today and said I had assaulted her, raped her? She's your kid, not mine. You can believe her fucking bullshit all you want but I'm not going to fall for it. I'm being goddamn nice to your kid, I always have been, and all I get from her and all you get from her is that shit attitude. I'm not giving her an allowance this summer. I'm not doing that. I've told her and I'll tell you again, I'll pay for her food, the roof over her head, and I'm even going to pay for that community college in the fall. Without me, she'd be on her own right now. And what I said a moment ago? I do get scared she'll make up some damn bullshit about me, call the cops, tell you, whatever. I don't trust her."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Why not? She just lied through her teeth about last Sunday. I told her plainly you were going to call, that it would break your heart if she wasn't there to take the call. She was just an inconsiderate, self-absorbed, self-centered little bitch about it. I was going to take her out to dinner, a nice place, she told me to go to hell about that too. That was fine, but when she said screw your call, that really pissed me off."

"She... she's had a rough life. I... I haven't been... a... very good mother." Barb started crying. Her voice became high pitched and squeaky, "I made... m-made so many mistakes with her. So... s-so many other mistakes too."

"Yeah, and here I am dealing with one of your huge mistakes, you being in prison, but I'm not going to deal with eighteen years of your mistakes with Lana."

Barb's crying turned into sobbing and I instantly felt like a total asshole. I hated it when I lost my temper, sometimes it just happened, I wouldn't even be aware it was boiling up. It just exploded and took possession of me. She bowed her head. She looked so much older and so damn pathetic at that moment. Her hands went up to her face, her palms covering it as she shook with more sobs. I reached for her arm. As soon as my fingertips made contact with her skin, she quickly turned to the side.

She squeaked, "Don't... touch me." She released a couple more loud sobs.

I had just been cruel to her. I knew she thought, and to a degree I also thought, that she was in prison because I had been so wasted that night. I knew with a couple less shots in me, and a couple more in her that night, I might be sitting in her chair and she in mine. I seriously doubted she'd be visiting me at this point though. I reached for her again, stroked her arm. She didn't pull away. "I'm sorry, Barb. I didn't mean to say that. I don't think that."

"Yes, you do."

"I shouldn't have said it if I do or not. Both of us have made big mistakes in our lives. At least you're getting dry in here. I'm trying but... hell, I'm off the wagon again. On-off, on-off. Listen, things will work out. Don't worry about it. Really, please don't worry."

"Are..." She wiped her eyes and nose with a paper napkin. "Are you going to give her an allowance?"

My jaw tightened for a moment. "No. I'm sorry if that bothers you, but no, I'm not. Barb, I'm broke, we're broke. When I was a kid, from the time I was fifteen, I always had a summer job, right through college. She hasn't applied for any jobs. I'm not giving her money to blow. If she doesn't want to work at least part-time for spending money, she can just stay at home and watch TV or surf the internet. I don't tell her not to have her friends over. She can do that."

"She's ashamed of the house."

"Hell... it's better place than my parents' house."

I didn't want to breech that subject. I was thinking of getting a smaller place, maybe an apartment. The house wasn't the greatest nor the worst in a fairly shitty part of town, but I thought the rent was high for what we got for it. The problem was we had just signed a new three year lease a couple months before the accident. I knew I'd probably lose the security deposit if we moved. Plus I really didn't feel like apartment hunting.

I exhaled. "Look... when she starts community college in the fall, I'll... you and I will talk about the allowance thing again, but if you mention one word about it to her, I won't ever give her an allowance, and I'm not saying I will in the fall, just that you and I will talk about it again."

She blinked a few times. "Are you sure you won't at least give her..."

I interrupted quickly, "Barb, I'm not giving her spending money. I told her months ago she'd not be getting an allowance after she graduated, and she'd need a job this summer. I told you months ago the same things. In fact it was last fall we talked to her about getting a job."

Barb blew her nose. "All right." She took another napkin and wiped her eyes. "She didn't say, did she like the sun dress? Was I right about the size?"

I didn't want to tell her. Barb had told me to put a gift receipt in the box in case it didn't fit. I thought it was an incredibly stupid gift. I had never seen Lana wear anything close to it, but Barb said that she'd be graduated and would hopefully change her style, start acting more like an adult. I knew that was a wishful prison fantasy. I had given it to Lana on Monday evening. She had ripped open the envelope not to read the card but to see if there was any cash in it, then ripped open the gift wrapped box, frowned, and then in a snotty tone asked me if I had kept the receipt.

I told her it was in the box under the tissue paper. She tossed the dress on the couch, and got the receipt. She said it didn't say how much it cost on it. I told her it was a gift receipt. She asked how much she'd get when she returned it. I just told her she'd have to wait to find out. I was really angry about it all. She glared at me, grabbed the dress, then the box and went to her room. The wrapping paper was still in the living room, on the floor.

On my way home from the graduation ceremony, I had decided not to give Lana the three gift wrapped novels I had gotten her. Barb had been right, Lana would have thought they were a ridiculous gift. They were still sitting on the shelf in the bedroom closet.

"I guess it didn't fit. She said she was going to returned it."

"Did they have her correct size, or did she get something else?"

"I don't know. I guess you could ask her."

Lana walked up. She had a bag of tortilla chips and a soda She sat down. She didn't offer any chips to her mother or me. "So... did you two have some time to talk?"

Barb sighed. "You... you should try harder to find some summer job, honey. Maybe..."

Lana broke in, "I told you, no place is hiring!"

An expression of defeat, maybe despair washed across Barb's face and for a few moments she looked ten years older again.

Barb's voice was soft, "Just keep trying, honey."

"I can't. I don't have a car. I can't get around town to even apply for jobs."

I spoke, "There's the county bus line. One stops six blocks from the house that goes to the big mall. I'll buy you a ten pack of tokens."

"I don't wanna ride the bus. Only dweebs and old people ride that bus."

Barb continued the soft toned voice, "Honey, you should take the tokens. We're... trying to be helpful."

Lana's jaw clenched as she glared at her mother. Her mouth opened and then she rethought whatever she was about to say. She slumped lower in the plastic chair, her arms folded over her chest as she looked towards the barred and cyclone fence covered windows of the cafeteria.

When the visitation period was over, and Barb hugged her daughter, Lana's body was limp in the hug. She just said "Bye" to her mother without even looking at her. I kissed Barb who was on the verge of tears again. I hugged her and told her not to worry, things would work out.

Of course I didn't believe that. During the last part of the visit I was again silently cursing myself for ever signing the damn guardian papers. I figured I'd probably be paying for a divorce lawyer soon. Maybe not. That would take a some initiative, energy, some actual caring, and I used all my energy and any "giving a damn" I could muster to keep my job, in other words, to stay sober on my job. I was going with the flow, or maybe I really didn't want a divorce. Sometimes Barb and I did have a good time together. Sometimes even when we had been sober. And, although no one could tell with her in the prison jumpsuit, she had a very hot bod. Maybe I'd just think about it.

Near the half way point of the drive back, I was hungry, with a taste for greasy spoon food. I remembered a truckstop, about fifty minutes from the house, somewhat seedy but right off the interstate, easy off, easy on. I didn't want to stop for fast food which Lana might have enjoyed. I had gone there a handful of times a couple years ago when I was working on a job out this way, mostly for breakfast, but for dinner twice when we worked overtime. It was about twenty miles ahead.

I took a slow breath. "You hungry?" I glanced her slender legs. My balls were turning blue again. Lana waited almost a minute to reply.

"Yeah, but I don't have any money."

I actually smiled, well, a half smile. "Don't worry. My treat."

She didn't say anything more and neither did I until I turned into the semi-trailer crowded parking lot.

Her face scrinched up. "We're stopping here? Why not like a Burger King or something? Didn't you see that one just down the road?"

"Home cooking here." I smiled again. Sometimes I just had a craving for greasy spoon food. Breakfasts were always the best, but anytime was all right when the urge hit.

I wasn't able to park very close to the entrance. We got out of my pickup and headed to the doors. A woman, maybe thirty, looking the worse for wear, dressed nearly exactly like Lana, miniskirt and tank top, sans the shitkickers, was smoking a cigarette standing at the corner of the building out of sight from the windows. As we made our way to the doors, she looked at Lana for a few moments, then at me.

She smiled. "Hey, honey, how are you today?"

I nodded and smiled. "Fine. You havin' a good day?"

"Could be better." Her smile stayed in place as her eyes somewhat glared at Lana.

"Well, hope you have a better one."

As we approached the doors, Lana asked, "Do you know that woman?"

I grinned. "No, never saw her before."

Lana noticed the sign in the window--

WAITRESSES WANTED

FREE ROOM/BOARD INCLUDED

"Maybe I should just apply for a job here. I wouldn't even have to live with you."

I laughed when I opened the door. For the hell of it, I held it for her. I checked out her seductive ass. I guess that's why I held the door.

The "trucker only" seating area was packed with rough looking or fat guys. The non-trucker area didn't have many patrons, and those sitting at the booths and tables I assumed were truckers too, probably guys who just wanted things a little quieter. The place hadn't changed at all since my last visit. We took a booth. Most of the waitresses in the 'trucker only' area were either wearing hot pants or miniskirts. The rest of the waitresses were wearing black pants and T shirts. They looked older than the others even if they weren't. There was one in hot pants working the non-trucker area too. We waited five minutes before a sad looking middle-aged woman came to our table. She gave us laminated menus and glasses of water.

"You two want coffee?"

"Nah, I'll have a beer though. A bottle, Busch I guess."

She looked at Lana, "What about you, hon?"

"I'll... have a beer too."

"I need to see some ID."

Lana exhaled. "A diet Coke."

"Okay. I'll give you two a few minutes and get your drinks." She walked away.

Lana started reading her menu. "None of this sounds good."

"The cheeseburger isn't bad." I heard her release a huff of air.

The woman came back with our drinks. "Ready?"

"I am." I looked at Lana. "You?"

She exhaled again and frowned. "I'll have the cheeseburger basket."

"Everything on the burger?"

"No onion."

"Cheeseburger basket, no onion." She quickly wrote a notation on her pad, then looked at me. "What can I get you, hon?"

"I'll have the Greek chicken."

The sad waitress made another fast scribble. "All right." She took our menus, turned and walked away.

Lana said, "The service is terrible here. How come that area over there is so crowded? Why are all the waitresses over there?"

"It's a truck stop. That's the trucker area. They get priority."

"That's stupid."

"It's the main portion of their business here. They cater to them because truckers want to eat and get back on the road quick, time is money sort of thing."

"None of those guys seem to be in a hurry."

I smiled and sipped my beer.

"I wonder what the tips are like here. Maybe I really should apply for a job here."

I chuckled again. "I don't think that'd be wise."

"Why? I bet I'd get really good tips."

I thought she'd probably make a lot of cash, at least at the start, with good tips. Facade and manipulation. Those things were second nature to her. I thought she might actually get into the work too. "You wanna live in a truckstop? Out here surrounded by corn fields."

She glared at me and then sipped her soda. She looked towards the windows.

"I have to hit the mens room."

I stood up and walked to the hallway at the rear of the dining area. A guy and a chick in a miniskirt were coming into the hall from the exit door at the far end. He had his arm around her shoulders. She was smiling at him with dead eyes. I guessed she was probably in her mid to low thirties, trying her best to look twenty, but had the lines around her eyes and mouth of a forty year old.

I went into the john. The place could have use a little mopping. I pissed, washed my hands and started back to the table. My gut tensed when I saw our booth. A guy much larger than me was sitting next to Lana, slightly turned towards her, his arm lying along the top of the bench seat back behind her head. I walked up. She had an expression of terror on her face.

"Come on, baby, out to my truck, we don't need a room. Why spend the extra cash? I'll sweeten your tip. I got a nice, wide bed behind the cab. I ain't gonna bite you."

"Hey... asshole. She's with me." I growled at the guy but my gut was still tensed. I was in good shape, all the construction work, and once in a while I worked out with iron in the basement, but the asshole was at least six-two and had a good seventy pounds on me. I had no idea why I thought rough talk was the way to get him away from Lana. Did I want to get into a fight with the guy? Was I that stupid? Yeah, I had been, on more than a few occasions. "Go find someone else to say hello to."

"She didn't say she was with any little prick."

I decided I didn't want to get into a fight. I quickly rethought my strategy, and verbally backed off. "Look, buddy, she's with me. Okay?"

"Why didn't you say it like that in the first place instead of the asshole shit, asshole."

"C'mon, man, leave her alone. She doesn't even work here."

"Huh?"

"She doesn't work here."

He looked at Lana. "Don't you work here?"

She still looked terrified. Her voice was squeaky, "No."

The guy's brow crinkled as he gazed at her for a few seconds, then looked at me and started getting up. "Shit... sorry, man, like really, but... she was sittin' alone and... you know the skirt."

"Yeah... yeah." I sat down. "Forget it."

The guy walked away.

Lana's terrified expression remained. "Why... why did he come over like that?"

"He thought you worked here. It's a... a full service truckstop."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That long building in back, the motel in back of this building?"

"Yeah?"

"This is a greasy spoon restaurant with a brothel out back.

Her face scrinched up. "A what?"

"A cathouse, a... a whorehouse. Some of the waitresses are prosties... prostitutes." I saw her face turn even paler under the coat of makeup.

"He... he thought I was a whore?"

I smiled. "I guess."

The waitress came up with our food. "Can I get you another beer?"

"Nah... I'm fine."

"Want your check now?"

"Yeah, I guess."

She ripped it off her little tablet. "You want something else, just wave me over and I'll add it on."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Sure, hon. Have a nice day." She glanced at Lana.

I said, "Yeah, you too."

I cut a piece of chicken and ate it. It wasn't bad. When I was a teenager, I really didn't like garlic. I do now for some reason. There was a minute or two of silence at the table before Lana spoke again.

"Is... is she one?"

"Who and what?" I kept a straight face.

"Our waitress, is she... is she a prostitute?"

I smiled. "I don't think so." She hadn't yet touched her cheeseburger. She looked around, then at the truckers only area. "Which... which ones are?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do." Her eyes grew larger. Her eyes grew larger. "Have... have you come here for... for sex?"

"No. I've never paid for it. And... I don't wanna get any STDs."

"You never went to a prostitute?"

"No. Believe it or not, there were chicks who found me attractive before Barb did."

She looked over at the truckers again. "Which.... which are prostitutes? Tell me."

"You see the ones in hot pants and miniskirts, dressed like you are?"

"Yeah."

"My guess is those girls." She didn't realize I was telling her she dressed like a cheap whore.

"Most of those aren't girls."

"I bet a couple are but are probably strung out."

"You mean drug addicts?"

"Possibly. I'm sure they're not getting rich, saving any money. Might just be strung out on life."

"How... how much do they charge?"

"I don't know, maybe... twenty bucks for a blowjob, maybe... fifty for a half 'n' half."