Chapter 1

I looked into the mirror as I shaved, noting the twin cul-de-sacs developing on my upper forehead. Great, now I'm starting to look like my dad with the extended hairline. That'll really help me interview for jobs. Looking at myself critically, I really don't think I'm that dorky looking. I keep myself fit, wear clean clothes, shine my shoes, and always try to be polite and respectful. Maybe I should become a little cruder. Assholes seem to be on top all the time. Naw, I'll still be a gentleman when I interview.

Who am I kidding? I only interviewed for one job this week. At least, it had been close to the landscape company that put on day labor. When I finished with the early morning interview, I changed into my jeans and old shirt to see if they needed help. They did, and I was able to pick up ten hours at seven bucks an hour, helping to cut down and load a big oak tree. I think they liked me because I never talk to the other laborers. For good reason though, we don't speak the same language. They don't speak English, and I don't speak what they speak. At least the guy pays cash, and for some reason, doesn't even write your name down.

I was smiling at the thought of the good meal I had last night. The cash from working paid for some groceries, a half tank of gas, some more paper to print resumes, and about thirty more dollars going into the rent kitty. Another good day somewhere and I'll have enough for the rent.

This morning, Friday, was check in day at the employment office. It should be called the unemployment office, as that's the only reason for it to exist. People go there to line up and file for unemployment benefits. It wasn't that much, but it was something. I think I still have about six weeks left before that runs out. Damn, I have to find a job soon.

At the employment office, I was the fourth person in line at the door. Since it was seven o'clock and the office doesn't open until eight thirty, it's hard to believe that others have the same idea I did. If I can get in and get out quickly, I'll go over to the landscape place to see if they have anything. If they don't, I'll go by all of the Wal-Marts again to check on their hiring status. My application and resume were at all of the grocery chains, and at as many retail companies as I could find. No one wants to hire a computer geek with a master's in electrical engineering and an MBA to stock shelves or wait on customers. They think that they will get me trained and I'll take off for a better job. They're right, I would; but it would be for a job in my career field. I'm an IT guy and I want to work in my field. I need to work in my field. I need to use my brain to come up with solutions to problems, not to fit a size six shoe on a size seven foot.

A girl just came up to the line behind me. Without being obvious, I began checking her out. That's what I do with women, I check them out. I don't date anymore because it's just too expensive to take someone out. Maybe I can use my "Let's have a library date" line on her. I laughed inside at that, as that is the only type of date I could afford.

Not bad, late twenties like me, almost as tall as I am, but she has heels on. Nice. Decent legs right up to the knees, but the skirt hid the rest. She has a suit on, so the upper half is a guess.

As she looked away, I checked her face and hair. Short brown hair combed back for efficiency. She has a pleasant face and almost a smile on her lips. Hmm, the profile she's giving me shows her chest to have some definition. Pretty nice package.

Thinking that since there was an hour before the doors open, some conversation would be nice, I turned to her just as she turned to me. We both started speaking at the same moment. "Hi, I'm" came from both of us at the same time.

We both laughed and we were both being courteous and waited for the other to speak first. Again, we both spoke at the same time, "I'm."

This time we both had our hands out to shake a greeting. I grinned real big and said, "I'm Santana Flowers; most just call me Santa or Sandy."

Her eyes got real big, making me think she had seen my name or face on America's Most Wanted. She put her hand up to her mouth like she was gasping in surprise.

Her eyes narrowed and she asked, "Is that really your name? Do people really call you Sandy?"

I rolled my eyes, thinking this is one weird conversation with a stranger.

I smiled, "Yes Ma'am. I suppose they could call me Santy, but it's just become Sandy over the years."

"Really? You're really Sandy Flowers?" This person was still acting shocked.

"I am and you are?" I thought this could get us on a better level of communication.

She had a funny look on her face. She almost assumed a seductive look. The look of a soft smile and half closed brown eyes had me charging up. She offered her hand to me again, "I'm Sandra Flowers, or as most call me, Sandy Flowers."

Now I get it. We both began laughing at the coincidence. I said, "Well Sandy Flowers, it must be the day for the Flowers clan to go begging. Are you here early so you can make an interview later?"

Sandy Flowers, the girl, laughed a tingly laugh and said, "I wish." She shuffled her feet and said, "When I leave here, I'm going to change clothes in my car and hope to pick up a couple of bucks from a day labor place. They contract hospitals and do landscaping. These manicured hands are going to be planting flowers in a couple of hours."

I asked, "Do you mean Harper's Landscaping?"

"That's the one. Do you know them?" she answered.

"I usually get a couple of days work a week from them. I worked there yesterday and they said they might have work for me today."

Sandy, the girl, said, "Same here. They couldn't use me for a tree job yesterday, but they did have me on the ground prep for the flowers today."

Sandy, the guy, me, said, "I did the tree yesterday and got ten hours in on it."

"Wow, you're lucky. I hardly ever get over six hours. At least they pay cash so we don't have to wait for a check."

I said, "Ah, you know why they pay cash, right?"

"Why's that?" She asked.

"It's under the table. No social security or taxes are taken out. No record, no unemployment, no workman's comp, just some wetback money."

She said, "You're right about wetback money. Almost everyone that works for Harper's is from somewhere other than America. Only a couple of them speak a little English. I guess I can't complain though. What I make has at least fed me and helped with the rent. My car is parked over on North Boulevard or I would have been first in line. I ran out of gas. I should have put some gas in last night, but I didn't want to use up the money I needed for rent. I really thought I had enough gas for today."

I offered, "When we're through, I'll help you get some gas and we'll go to Harper's. You know you shouldn't let your car get so low on gas. That could cost you a fuel pump. It will wear out fast if you let your tank go dry like that."

Sandy, the girl, said, "That would be nice of you. I hope it doesn't make us too late to get some work."

"It shouldn't," I said. "They take people out to jobs all the way until noon."

She nodded and looked at me. "So what do you do for a living, or would that be what did you use to do for a living?"

I answered, "Information technology. You know, computers, programming, stuff like that."

"Wow," Sandy, the girl, said, "That's amazing that you can't find a job either."

"Bad economy, that's all," I answered.

I asked, "What did you use to do, what are you looking for?"

She answered, "Paralegal. A large law firm bought out the law office I worked for and most of our staff was let go. I only worked for them six years, so I didn't have that much experience. Before that, I was a bank teller while I went to school."

"It is a bad economy when legal services are taking a hit. I can understanda company having to close, but it still takes a room full of lawyers and their assistants to finish the closing."

She commented, "You would think so, but the truth is, even attorneys' business is off. They are suffering in this economy the same as everyone else. If companies aren't doing much business, they don't need much legal help."

I was nodding, "You're right; I sure hope it gets better soon. I need to take some refresher courses, but I can't right now. I'm going to request tuition assistance for what I need, but I don't think they'll give it to me since I've already finished my degree."

We discussed where our families were from to see if there were any links to our name heritage. We didn't appear to be related in any way. It was just a name coincidence.

The noise of the door being unlocked got our attention, along with that of the couple of hundred people standing behind us. The uniformed guard at the door held up his hand and said, "The first five people only. When they get started, I'll let in the next five and so on. We don't want a riot in here like yesterday."

We went through the door, signed in, pulled the number tab from the machine, and walked to the roped off waiting line. Ladies at the counter began saying "Next" and the five of us went to a window.

I did the usual. I had the papers filled out neatly so it would be easy for the clerk to input the data. I had names, addresses, and telephone numbers of the places that I interviewed with, plus the other businesses that I had checked in with. I asked the clerk, whose nameplate said 'M. Nelson, ' "Ms. Nelson, are there any positions of any kind available now?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Flowers, we don't have anything for someone with your background."

"Ms. Nelson, I'm willing to do any kind of work in order to get steady employment."

She looked me at shaking her head. She said, "I'm really sorry, Mr. Flowers, we just don't have anything."

She was looking at my hands and reached across the counter and picked up my left hand and turned it over, checking out the cuts and calluses. "Mr. Flowers, just keep doing what you're doing to keep eating. You're about to run out of benefits, so I hope you find something soon. Meanwhile, get some hand cream. She smiled as she handed me the slip of paper that said I had re-applied for benefits."

Dejected as usual, humbled, I turned from the window and shuffled toward the door. A voice behind me said, "Cheer up, I have a lead on a job. They might take you too."

My head came up and I almost stumbled into someone coming in the door. "What, where, what is it?"

"Down boy, let's get out of here and I'll tell you." Sandy the girl, took my hand and pulled me through the door being held open by the security guard.

Outside, I began leading Sandy toward my car. I walked Sandy to the passenger side of my 2005 Malibu. It wasn't perfect, but it was in good shape and best of all, it was paid for. After seating Sandy, the girl, I shut the door and went to the driver's side. When I was inside with doors closed, I asked, "So what kind of job, where?"

Sandy said, "The where is north of the city, out off 41 in a business park. The clerk told me that a company called Quality Wear clothing was hiring seamstresses at above minimum wage. Best of all, they had classes to teach people how to use their machines. She said I could be earning immediately, with a raise up to ten dollars an hour in as soon as a week. She also said the company has benefits and so far has never laid anyone off."

I thought out loud, "I wonder if they would consider a guy for a job?"

"Why not," Sandy, the girl, asked, "Girls get guy jobs, a guy can get girl jobs too."

I was thinking about this when Sandy said, "Come on, let's get some gas for my car and we'll go out there and apply."

Looking at Sandy, I said, "Sure hope this is real. I'd hate to miss some work at Harper's for something that isn't there."

Sandy was nodding, "Me too, but I have to go see. You don't have to, but it might be a chance."

I was driving toward where her car was parked. "I have a gas can. Let me get a couple gallons of gas before we get to your car."

We stopped at a gas station and Sandy paid six dollars to the clerk for less than two gallons. We drove to Sandy's car to find it surrounded by two police cars, an ambulance, a fire truck, and a big flatbed tow truck.

Sandy gasped, "Oh no, someone hit my car. It was even off the road and they hit it."

We pulled off on the side of the road behind where her car was and walked to the crowd. Sandy told a policeman that the parked car was hers. The cop said for her to wait away from the cars until they had the driver of the other car pulled out.

Watching the hurried activity of the firemen made you wonder how those guys could do what they do every day. When they finally had the driver of the other car on a gurney, a fireman pulled a cover over the driver's face and shook his head.

"Oh no," Sandy said, "The guy must have been killed. Damn, my car isn't even in the road. How did he hit it?"

Sandy's car was a mid-nineties Saturn, but the back bumper was now pushed into the rear seat. The front of the car was squashed into a concrete culvert in front so the car was less that half its original length. The car buried into the Saturn was an old Oldsmobile Cutlass, late seventies, early eighties. The entire front end was mangled and you could see the V-8 engine in the front seat of the car.

A policeman came up to us and asked, "Does the Saturn belong to one of you two?"

Sandy said, "It's mine, or was mine. What happened?"

The policeman pointed back at an intersection and said, "That guy was running from a patrolman when he lost control coming around the corner over there, and slammed into your car. You don't have to worry about any parking violation, as it's legal to park where you were. Your car is a total loss. Is there anything in it that you want to get?"

Sandy had tears running down her face, "I don't have collision insurance on my car. What am I going to do?"

I said, "Sandy, let's get what we can from your car. Did you have anything in your trunk?"

Sandy said, "There's some clothes in the back seat and a couple of CDs in the glove box. That's it. There was a good spare in the trunk but I guess I won't need that."

The policeman helped us pull the rear door open to get Sandy's clothes, while she reached through the open front door to get the items from the glove box.

Sandy turned to the policeman who had been joined by another uniform with stripes on his sleeve. She asked, "Do you think that guy has any insurance on his car?"

Both policemen laughed and one said, "That's why we were trying to stop him. He had expired registration and had let his insurance lapse. He should have turned in his license plate a couple of months ago. He won't have to worry about it now."

Sandy shook her head, "It's too bad someone had to die over a simple registration."

The cop with the stripes said, "That it is, but he would have been in jail anyway. He's wanted for a long list of crimes. Assault, burglary, bank robbery, and he's wanted as a suspect in a murder. I'm glad my guys didn't get him stopped, he had a gun on him and he might have used it. We've had enough policemen get shot lately."

Sandy sagged against me, upset over the loss of her car. "What am I going to do? Now I won't even have a way to get to that job if I get it."

I said, "Hey, we haven't been hired yet so let's get out there and apply. If we both get hired, we can ride together."

Sandy looked at me with funny look, "Okay, Sandy Flowers, take Sandy Flowers to get a job." We both giggled over that.

Sandy had to sign a receipt for her car. The tow truck driver said the car would be impounded and she could just let it go. She would probably be billed for the tow and storage, but she could let the car go as salvage if she wanted.

I asked the driver, "How about Sandy signs the title over to you and you just junk the car? It probably has a couple of salvageable parts so it's got to be worth at least the tow?"

The tow truck driver nodded and used his cell phone. When he finished the call he said, "If you can send the title to the lot, the boss said he would do that for you."

Sandy, the girl, said, "I have the title here in my purse. I was going to pawn the car for rent money if I had to. Let me sign it for you."

The policemen watched the transaction, agreeing that this would be a good deal for Sandy.

When we were back in my car, Sandy said, "It smells like gas in here. Put the gas in your car and put the can back in the trunk. Call it my gift for helping me."

When I had the gas in the car and the can back in the trunk, we pulled out into traffic to head north to find this Quality Wear place. Sandy had a piece of paper with the address and directions, so when we saw the Holiday Inn Express, we knew to pull into the business park next to it.

Sandy quipped, "Perhaps we should stay a night in the Holiday Inn Express before we apply so we could be experts."

I laughed and said, "That would be fun but we really don't know each other that well."

"We're getting there, Champ," Sandy said, off-handedly. She said it so casually that I knew it was not meant as anything intimate or promising.

We slowly drove around the business park road to where a big concrete sign announced that we were in front of "Quality Wear Clothing". Underneath was a sign that said "Home of Big Girls Clothes. com".

Sandy said, "My cousin buys clothes on the Internet from Big Girls Clothes. She says they are the only people whose clothes make her look good. She's a big girl, but nice looking. Her husband thinks she's a doll."