Family Bonds

Chapter 2, Episode 2, and Chapter 3, Episode 1

The next day, he left the post office whistling tunelessly. The test he'd taken was easy. The pay was minimum wage, but at least it would make a dent in the money he owed. That and what the lawyer had said he would pay. He called home from the attorney's office. "I've got a job—working nights. Don't wait dinner for me, Mom."

"When will you be home?"

"Around ten. Maybe later. Depends on how fast I get it done."

"What are you doing, Chet?"

"Cleaning offices. Tell Dad I've got a lead on a day job, too."

He hung up the phone and looked at the numbers he'd written down. The attorney had said he'd bonus him, in cash, for any extra chores Chet did. It was a start.

The job at the post office began in a week. Less than what Oliver was paying, but if his hours went over eight a day, he'd get overtime. On Saturdays, too. At this rate, he hoped to have the bill for the frat house damage paid off by next summer. He sighed. Minimum wage was not how he intended to live his life. He'd never have enough left over to go out at this rate, maybe with that girl with the green eyes and long brown hair. He didn't know where she lived. And when he'd Googled her name, nothing came up. She didn't even have a Facebook page.

A half hour later, his sweeping was interrupted when Oliver Smythe walked into the office kitchen. "You're hard at it."

"You said I could start tonight. The sooner I work, the sooner I get paid."

"It's not a lot of money, Chet." The man wore a suit Chet knew had cost more than he'd earn in a month, maybe three.

He continued sweeping. "I know, but I start at the post office next Monday, sorting mail. I figure if I work both jobs, it'll make a dent in the debt. Got it? Dent? Debt?" He grinned.

"What's your plan after that?" The lawyer stepped aside when Chet moved the broom under the table.

"Back to school." He sneezed from the dust raised by his sweeping. "Minimum wage work isn't for me. I've been thinking I'd like to go to law school. Eventually."

"Because the pay's better?" Oliver smiled at him.

"That, and it's interesting. Makes me think. About all I'm thinking about right now while I'm—" He sneezed again. "Sorry—the dust—is how to avoid sneezing." He leaned on the broom before setting it aside and moving the container holding soapy water for wiping down the counters in the kitchen.

Oliver edged out of his way. "If you like, I'll give you some books to take home. Case law. It will give you a taste of what I do. After you finish reading them, if you're not bored to death, we'll talk about some of the cases, what made them precedent-setters. That kind of thing. Interested?"

"Thanks. Could you move that way?," He glanced at the attorney whose firm represented his father's business. The lawyer stepped aside again.

"That's all you're thinking about these days, no more girls or drinking and the rest of college life, the things that got you in trouble?"

Chet stopped running the cleaning rag over the counters. "No drinking, no fighting. Haven't sworn off girls. Saw one the other day I'd like to get to know, except she wouldn't give me a chance."

"Guess she wasn't impressed with your technique. Or maybe she heard what happened at Whitman."

Chet brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "She said she had to get back to work. Drives this old beater Bug—sounded like it was on its last legs."