Walking an Endless Path Pt. 01

Joe looked at Amy, who explained. "He means Laurence Ashworth. It's his company and his theatre troop. He's the reason we're all here. He's also the one who approached me after my last performance as Juliet in the school play and asked me to join his troop for the summer. I don't know why he fired the security guys. They seemed okay. I liked Julius. They did seem a little bored most of the time."

"Indeed, why would I have fired a very expensive team of security experts doing so much of nothing that they were always bored? And while we are on the subject of intriguing bits of trivia, isn't it curious that on the very first business day after the termination of said services of these security experts, our finance clerk is ambushed precisely at the moment he returned with the funds for our float?"

Joe and Amy turned to the speaker. Joe saw a tall, almost skeletally thin man with sharp eyes, a rather large nose, long grey hair tied back in a ponytail, and a bent, unlit cigarette dangling from his thin lips.

"Joe, this is Laurence Ashworth. Mr. Ashworth, this is my brother, Joe," Amy said, her face pinking up with embarrassment for having been caught talking about the boss by the boss.

"Joseph! So good to finally make your acquaintance after all the stories Amy has regaled us with!" he boomed.

Joe was completely taken aback by this man's frenetic energy. He took the offered hand and returned the shake.

"My word! You do seem to be as big and strong as she boasts!" Laurence continued. Amy's face was turning a deeper and deeper shade of red. "If those... let's call them hooligans, shall we? If those hooligans had met up with you instead of our poor gentle Frank, I'm sure the result would have been decidedly in your favor. If I might be so bold in saying this, I doubt they would have been brave enough to try their mettle against such an opponent." He paused and became thoughtful. "Joseph, are you currently gainfully employed?"

"Uh, I have shifts at St. Germain's Feed and Supply. I'm actually going to be late if I don't head there now," Joe said.

"Shifts, you say? That's typically a fairly flexible arrangement, yes? Would you consider supplementing that with occasional shifts for us? I can hardly allow Frank to continue to do these bank runs unescorted. That's only twice a week. Once the plays are on, there would be an additional deposit run each night, and we could use some backstage security, keeping the paparazzi at bay and the like." He smiled at this last part. Finding paparazzi in this small town would be an event in itself.

"Yeah, uh, I could probably swing that," Joe replied after a moment's consideration. There probably wouldn't be too much overlap, and Joe kept the store's inventory moving faster and faster these days. Rene and Joe were an awesome team. Besides, he'd love to be able to work with his sister again.

"Splendid! Well, I'll let you escape to your Feed and Supply without further delay. If you could drop by later tonight when you pick up Amy, we can fill out all that bothersome paperwork to make it official. Bye!" And he was gone.

Joe looked down at Amy, who was also standing with her mouth open. "Is he always like that?" Joe asked. Amy just nodded, then waved at Joe and rushed after the man.

Joe got to work twenty minutes late and had to face the intensity of Rene's over-the-glasses stare as Joe explained his eventful morning. She pulled the log book out and reviewed the shift schedule. There was definitely room to allow Joe to venture out from the store and still meet his obligations here. She let him know that if he could let her know when the other shifts would be, she could accommodate him.

Joe's efficiency with moving their stock had dramatically reduced their costs and improved their customer delivery service. Just the improvements he'd made in organizing the inventory in the warehouse behind the shop meant all the staff could find and pull the required stock and have it in the customer's hands in record time. The higher in demand the item was, the closer to the warehouse entrance it was. Placement and quantities were also tracked on a large whiteboard by the door. No wonder Donald kept pressuring her to give him a promotion. But she knew he didn't want to change what he was doing here. He was happy with his role. You don't mess with happy. Not if you want to keep happy.

-=-

Shakespeare in the Park was a booming success. Laurence Ashworth's reputation as a tyrant and perfectionist may have been not-so-secret grumblings from the crew, but none could deny he was a masterful artistic director. His ability to draw the best performance from both cast and crew was second to none. His latest find, Amy, exemplified his ability to spot raw talent, incorporate it seamlessly into his finely tuned troop, and hone it to its keenest edge. While his group had meshed with perfect synchronization before her arrival, with Amy, there was a much higher level of energy. Amy was no prima donna. She worked with the other actors, learned from them, absorbed Laurence's lessons, and surprised everyone with how natural she was. She shared her love of acting with them, energized their spirits, and challenged them to join the fun.

And they had fun!

At the end of every show, the crowd would be on their feet, thunderously applauding and calling out to their favorite actors, drawing curtain call after curtain call. The energy the cast fed into the audience with their performances was always returned tenfold by the appreciative crowds.

Word of these outstanding performances was spreading, and they were surprised and pleased to receive visitors from the New York and Los Angeles theatre arts scene in their humble town. Celebrities started to pop by for performances, and Laurence would set them up in a new stage-level box seat his crew had scrambled to set up. Sections of the stage had to be moved to arrange the new seating, but his cast and crew absorbed the changes without a hiccup.

During the performances, when this box seat was occupied, it was Joe's job to stand by the audience side of the box, ensuring no one tried to sneak in for an autograph, steal a souvenir, or take a compromising photo. He was a silent tower dressed in tight black jeans, black boots, and a tight black t-shirt with SECURITY stretched across his broad chest and back. He'd stand with his big arms crossed and his dark eyes scanning the crowd casually, missing nothing. Unsurprisingly no one tried to get past him. More than a few guests in the box attempted to engage him for security... and pleasure. He always turned them down politely with a smile as they were guests of Mr. Ashworth. The man had been wonderful for Amy, and Joe wouldn't do anything to hurt that.

When the guest box was empty, Joe's regular duty during the show was to do rounds backstage to ensure no unauthorized access. A week before, he caught a man with a camera taking pictures of the female actors in the dressing tent. The man's camera had a little accident, the memory card was destroyed, and the police took a very shaken peeping tom away in the back of a cruiser. While they'd admired him before, now the ladies of the stage adored Joe as he was the defender of their virtue. With good grace, Laurence Ashburn paid the bet he'd made with some of the crew since the man had actually been a known paparazzo.

Joe walked between the tents backstage and watched the buzz of activity flow around him. The current show was between acts, and the cast and crew were busy preparing for the next. The audience was making lots of appreciative noises. You could almost feel their excitement! He caught the eye of Amy as she rushed by. She was so happy! He felt his heart swell with pride as they smiled at each other, then she was up on the stage behind the curtain, ready for the next act.

Once he reached the end of the lane, he was at the office trailer. He knocked on the door and announced himself. Frank opened the door and told him he was still working on the theatre box office receipts for tonight's show. He had a big grin as the show had been doing very well so far. While it was a lot of work, Frank was in his element. If the show continued to pull in the receipts it had been doing, and there was no sign of it slowing down, everyone would be getting their bonus pay for the season.

Joe smiled back and told him he'd be back in an hour to take Frank to the bank. They closed and locked the door, and Joe double-checked the lock. Once he was comfortable that all was good, Joe headed back toward the stage. He could hear the audience was hushed, riveted to the actors dazzling them on the scene.

The first blows took him completely by surprise. The aluminum baseball bat struck him across his shoulders, and a second hit his left thigh from the front. This combination made him lurch and stumble to drop to his knees. Joe spun on his knees and raised his arms, expecting the next swings. Sure enough, they came in fast, and he just managed to deflect the swing at his head and block the strike to his chest.

Joe saw it was Ray and Randy Wexler holding the bats and readying their next swings. The looks of rage on their faces were startling, but Joe was through getting beat on. As the bats descended again, he reached forward and grabbed them with his big hands. He surged to his feet, yanked the bats from the grip of the two men, and tossed them aside. As Ray and Randy stumbled towards Joe, following his tug, Joe reached out and hooked his arms around the necks of both men and squeezed them back against his chest in a chokehold. Then he went down on one knee, forcing the men to collapse back against him. Their faces were getting red, and they clawed ineffectually at his arms, trying to free themselves. Once Joe felt he had their attention, he spoke with them.

"Ray. Randy. Why are you doing this?" he said quietly. He eased off just enough so both men would be able to get breath to talk but not enough that they could get free.

"Let go of me, you faggot!" Ray growled.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Randy croaked.

"No, you are going to tell me why you attacked me," Joe said with a reasonable voice.

"Let go! Let go! Let go! Raaaah!" Ray howled in rage, so Joe gripped him a little tighter to cut off his air a little, which immediately settled him down.

"You know fucking why you deserve it!" Randy growled.

Joe saw that Randy might be willing to talk, so he addressed him. "No, I don't. The last time I had direct contact with you two was when I was ten years old, and you were beating me up. You can't still be angry about that!"

Ray was trying desperately to punch Joe, but he had no leverage, and Joe simply squeezed for a little bit to cut off his air to quiet him down. Ray could tell that Joe could easily break his neck with the strength in his arm, but his frustration and rage wouldn't allow him to sit still. "You made Robbie piss himself! Called him PissyPants! Do you think he could live with that?"

Joe was shocked at the accusation, but in the back of his mind, he knew this had to be about Robbie. "Back in grade six, Robbie was a bully. He picked on kids smaller than him. I was one of those smaller kids and stood up to Robbie that day. But I never, ever, called him anything but Robbie, and I never heard any of my friends ever call him names. I don't know anyone who called him tha—" he stopped when he felt Ray and Randy stiffen. "You did," he whispered, realizing he was just the target of their transferred guilt.

"Fuck you! Let go of me, you faggot!" Ray renewed his efforts to break free. He tried to elbow Joe in the ribs, but Joe just ignored his blows.

"I swear I will kill you!" Randy twisted and kicked, trying to free himself.

Joe squeezed them both hard, and they gasped. They needed to know they were completely in his control. He felt them tremble in his arms.

"Tell Robbie you're sorry," Joe growled, shaking them both, enforcing their helplessness.

"What?!" Ray and Randy both said, stunned.

"You heard me. Tell Robbie you're sorry. Apologize to him. You were his brothers! You were supposed to protect him, especially from himself. That's what brothers do! SAY. YOU'RE. SORRY!" Joe growled at them and shook them roughly again.

Ray and Randy were silent, but Joe could feel their fingers on his arms. They'd stopped clawing, but their grip was still strong. He needed to push harder.

"I wish I could have talked with Robbie before he did what he did, but I hadn't spoken with him since I was ten and didn't know what he was going through. Then I wasn't allowed to go to his funeral, so I never got to say goodbye when my friends did. I wish I had been there. But you two still owe Robbie an apology."

"Robbie's DEAD! You can't apologize to the dead!" Ray's voice cracked with grief.

"Robbie is dead, but we keep him alive in our hearts. You and Randy both have Robbie's memory in you, but you haven't been honest with that memory. You're still lying, and you need to stop and apologize!"

The men continued to squirm weakly in his grip, so he increased the pressure gradually until he heard them gasp and give up.

"Tell Robbie you're sorry," he said quietly but firmly.

"I'm sorry," Ray whispered, barely audible.

Joe turned his head to Ray. "Tell him why you're sorry."

"Robbie, I-I'm sorry for calling you names."

Once Randy heard his brother opening up, he blurted his own apology. "Robbie, I'm sorry—sorry for not stopping the old man from beating on you." The last part came out as a wail, and he started crying.

This triggered Ray. "Robbie, I'm so sorry for treating you so bad." Then he was in tears as well.

Joe didn't relax his grip, but he could tell they were no longer trying to break free. They gripped his arms like a lifeline. They needed his strength. It freed them to be honest for the first time in years. His own tears ran down his cheeks, and his arms were wet from theirs. The brothers were shaking from the depths of their grief.

He looked up to see he had an audience of his own. Laurence Ashworth stood in front of several of his people, including four ladies who weren't required on stage until the end. There wasn't a dry eye in the group. Two crew members had collected the baseball bats but just held them loosely.

Laurence knelt down in front of them and addressed them. "My sincerest condolences for your loss. I pray your healing continues now that you've passed into this healthier state of mind. Joe, could you lead your two companions to the outer gate. It will be getting very busy back here in a moment."

Joe nodded, moved his arms around their chests, and stood up, lifting the two men to their feet. He put his arms over their shoulders and walked them down the aisle to the gate in the fence. One of the crew had already opened the gate, and a patrol car was waiting outside. He felt the brothers stiffen. He put them at ease.

"It's okay. I'll explain you were just here to speak with me, and everything is fine now. You guys won't be leaving in the cruiser tonight. All right?"

The two men nodded and looked away. He could tell they were still hurting, but the rage was gone. They actually looked a little lost now that they didn't have an external target for their pain. He spoke with the officer and convinced him the brothers were fine to leave on their own, no harm done. With a nod, the officer returned to his cruiser, and Joe walked back to Ray and Randy.

"Look, I think you guys need to talk to someone about this. Grief counseling is offered free of charge at the walk-in clinic down the street from St. Germain's store. I can take you there tomorrow if you'd like."

"No, we can get there on our own," Ray said, unable to look Joe in the eye. Randy was looking at his brother like he wanted to cry again.

Joe held out his hand, and Ray stared at it. Then he looked up at Joe and took the hand. Joe looked him in the eye and gave him a firm handshake, then repeated the action with Randy, whose grip was limp. Joe was worried about him, but Ray just put his arm around his brother's shoulders and led him away. Joe returned to the gate, and the crew locked it after him. As he walked back towards the stage, he heard the roar of applause from the excited crowd.

He smiled as it was a good night.

Joe just hoped the Wexler brothers understood that.

Chapter 25

The next morning Joe had the early shift at St. Germain's Feed and Supply. This went from eight AM to twelve PM, and Joe made those hours count. As he had reduced his hours here to help out the theatre troop, he compressed his work to fit the new reduced hours. He offloaded the shipments in the loading bay and had them sorted, inventoried, and moved into the warehouse in half the time. If this meant he had to lift twice the load on each trip and stack the goods twice as fast, so be it. Unfortunately, it also meant he was more than twice as hungry as he worked.

He'd just finished moving one hundred sacks of feed from the trailer to the warehouse and was breathing hard from the effort. He never seemed to sweat, but he definitely needed a bottle of cold water and a little rest to cool off. He called Rene from the loading bay and told her he was going on break. Then he walked out the loading bay door and crossed to the small strip of green on the other side of the pavement. He stripped off his shirt, poured some water over his head, and then took a good long drink. He stretched out across the top of a picnic table and soaked in the sunshine. He felt truly at peace, and the sun felt so good on his skin. Just when he started to feel a little drowsy, he felt the sharp sensation of being watched. He remained on his back on the table, but he opened his eyes and looked around. He couldn't see anyone, but he was definitely being watched. He lifted his head and looked back towards the building, and sure enough, two people were standing in the loading bay. Rene was there with a young female police officer he didn't recognize, and they were both wearing smiles. Joe was getting used to this, but come on! He was on his break!

"Joe, sorry to interrupt your rest, but Officer Kowalski here has a few questions for you," Rene called out.

"I'll come there," the officer called when Joe got down from the table.

She walked up as Joe made himself comfortable on the bench.

"Hi, I'm Joe Neumann," he said, offering his hand. He quickly assessed the new officer. He assumed she was new as he'd never seen her before, her uniform looked too crisp, and her boots showed no wear at all. She also had an open, friendly smile with no trace of wariness in her eyes whatsoever. Pretty face, though. Lovely warm brown eyes and a strong nose. She probably got teased for that nose, but Joe thought it was one of her best features. She was also tall and fairly slim. The body armor looked oversized on her.

"Officer Karen Kowalski," she said, shaking his hand. "I understand you were in an altercation with Ray and Randy Wexler around eight forty-five last night?"

"I spoke with the officer last night regarding that. I told him that the brothers had come to speak with me, and we had cleared up some old issues, but everything was fine," he said, hoping to deflect further trouble for the brothers.

"The report indicates they had attacked you with baseball bats, but you disarmed them?" she glanced up from her notes to survey his still shirtless torso but saw no signs of injury. Her eyes lingered a little longer than was strictly professional, but Joe ignored that.

"Their brother Robbie died a few years ago, and they were pretty messed up about it. They needed someone to blame for his death and picked me because of some stupid fight I'd had with the three of them when I was ten. Once I got their bats away from them, I talked to them and discovered they were in a lot of pain from guilt over how they treated their little brother. I talked to them about going to see a grief counselor about it, and Ray said they would go. That's when they left, and I went back to work."