The Chairman's Tramp

Thirteen.

Atticus ran out of the store, blindly heading in one direction. He didn't know where he was heading -- or even where he was leaving from -- but he knew he had to get away from Alexander. He went about a quarter of a mile out of the parking lot before realizing he should at least figure out which way was home. His phone's GPS only told him the bad news: the only way to his apartment was back the way he came, and it was over seven miles away. Groaning loudly, he turned and began the long walk home. It would be necessary to pass by Antici..., but he hoped Alexander would be long gone by the time he got back.

While he walked, his mind ran over what just happened. If Alexander wanted the full payment of $760 by Wednesday, there was absolutely no way he could manage that. Even if he managed to find a job that paid enough, he wouldn't get his first paycheck in under five days! It would take a week at the very least. And, if he went back to his highest paying job and managed to convince his boss, grumpy Mr. Hartley, to give him an advance, he would then be short for the following week's payment.

He had royally screwed himself.

There was no way he would grovel for his old master to forgive him and take him back, so he swallowed any pride he had left and headed to the small, family-owned hardware store to plead with Mr. Hartley instead. While the store was close to his apartment, it would still add another mile onto the trip, but it was necessary as he would need to start working the following day in order to have any hopes of making the payment on time.

The trip took over two hours, and it began to drizzle as he arrived at the small store; he hoped the rain shower would be a short one so his walk home would be dry.

He surveyed the counter from the entrance and determined Mr. Hartley must be in the back room or his office. He approached Melissa, who was too distracted by her phone to realize anyone had walked up until Atticus cleared his throat.

"Oh, hey. I didn't think we'd ever see you again from what Hartley said."

Atticus grimaced. What had Alexander told his bosses? "I took another job that..." he swallowed a bad taste in his mouth, "didn't quite work out. What did Mr. Hartley say?"

The girl whistled lowly. "Ooh, boy. He hung up the phone so fast and started yelling about you being a sell out with no basic human dignity. Then he got a second call and chilled out."

Maybe Alexander offered him something to compensate for his one full-time employee disappearing? Or perhaps the man threatened him? "Did he say anything else?"

"Nah, he's been pretty cool since then; he even gave me a raise since I picked up some of your hours. I didn't want to ask what happened and jinx it. Ya know?"

He nodded and pointed towards the door that led to the back. "Can I go talk to him?"

"Sure. He should be in his office."

"Thanks, Lissa."

Atticus pushed through the swinging door and headed down the short, narrow to the opening of Mr. Hartley's office. He knocked on the door frame, startling the man.

He glared at Atticus. "What are you doing here?"

"I, um, came to ask for my job back."

Mr. Hartley's face turned smug as he realized he had the upper hand. "Why?"

"My o-other position didn't quite work out. Um, I could work all the hours you want; I would give you my primary availability."

"You completely vanished without so much as a week's notice, let alone two weeks -- which is basic human decency. Why should I hire you back?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hartley. I promise I won't do it again. I didn't have any other choice for the position and he said he would handle it."

"Listen, kid." He leaned forward, propping his arms on the desk. "I wouldn't hire you back if you paid me. I don't know what kind of position you had going on, but I have an arrangement going on in which I intend to hold up my end of."

"Please --"

"No," the man interjected, lowering his voice, "I truly hope you figure out whatever you got yourself into -- for your own sake. But there is nothing for you here now. Please leave."

Atticus, defeated, turned and walked out of the building into the now-pouring rain, not even pausing to answer when Melissa asked how it went.

What the hell was the deal Alexander made? He paused under the awning and made quick calls to his two other previous employers, only to discover the same hypothetical doors slam in his face. Atticus solemnly began the walk back to his apartment, lowering his head to keep the rain from his eyes.

The only thing he could think of was he was totally, and royally, screwed.