Jerry gulped. “No problem, sir. I’ll have it here in an hour,” he replied smartly, darting out. Stone listened as the sound of the boy’s footsteps faded. In three days, Jerry hadn’t uttered a single word that didn’t need saying. He liked that. The kid was growing on him. He could use a boy like that.
Two hours later, Stone was freshly showered and dressed. The boy had done well, considering 38x38 pants were nearly impossible to find off the store shelf. He wondered how Jerry pulled off that neat little trick. He expected to be forced to wear 38x36 pants, which would do in an emergency but would be too short ever to wear twice. He reasoned there must be a big man’s store in the area. Either way, once again, the boy had done well, so he decided to leave Jerry a nice fat tip when he left.
The image in the little motel mirror was much improved than what Stone saw the night he arrived. While the swelling around his eye was still significant, with black, blue, and yellow covering much of the left side of his face, the scrapes had stopped weeping and scabbed over. Now he simply looked like he’d fallen down a flight of stairs rather than in a train wreck. He was making progress.
Stone stared at the proceeds of Jerry’s last supply run with dismay. All he brought was a small box of Chinese food, a carton of Lucky Strikes, and a bottle of scotch. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he was going to starve to death! But he decided to eat the food, drink the scotch, and stay one more night. However, still barely able to walk, there was no question a little more undisturbed rest would do him good. Still, he determined to bail out of the Cherry Motel first thing in the morning. He had plans, unfinished business with Arlene to take care of, and was eager to get at it.
Aware that Jerry would not be at work in the morning, Stone decided to call him from the bedside phone. He dialed zero then waited for the boy to pick up. Jerry answered on the second ring. “Front desk, Jerry speaking.”
“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” Stone announced. “Come here; I want to talk to you,” he said flatly, then hung up the phone.
Moments later, there was a knock at the door. “Come on in,” Stone called from the bed where he lay with his head propped up on the pillows. Jerry stepped into the room then stood silently with his hands folded in front of him, patiently waiting to hear what the big man had to say.
Stone took his time, thinking while he stubbed out a cigarette in the ashtray. “I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he repeated. “I’ve left you the money I promised on the table there,” he said, pointing a thick finger at it. “You did well, so I also left you a tip. There’s enough there to give you a good start. Spend it wisely.”
“Yes, sir,” Jerry said, then reached for the thick stack of one-hundred-dollar bills and put them in his hip pocket without comment. Stone marveled that the boy hadn’t even thanked him, which was okay with him; he didn’t expect or desire to be thanked. What he expected was results, which Jerry had provided faultlessly. The boy had worked for the money and deserved to be rewarded, simple as that.
Jerry still hadn’t asked any questions, nor had he uttered a single word more than needed. The boy also hadn’t counted the money, which surprised and amused Stone. He looked the boy over as he stood stock-still as if waiting for further orders.
“You drive, boy?”
“Yes, sir. I have a license, but I don’t have a car.” “What do you make here?”
“Nightshift pays seventy-five cents an hour.” “How would you like to get out of here and make
five-dollars an hour?” Jerry sucked in air sharply, glanced around the room, and shifted his weight from one side to the other without answering. Stone began to think the boy was about to turn down the offer when he finally spoke.
“Yes, sir,” was his simple reply.
Stone grinned. “Where do you live?”
“Here—in number one, with my parents,” Jerry
said, then he added, “they own the place.”
“I thought so. You probably don’t need me telling
you there’s not much of a future for you here,” said
Stone, taking another long drag from his cigarette and
exhaling it into the smoke-filled room. He considered
the boy for a moment then went on.
“I need an assistant, someone who knows how to
get things done without asking a lot of questions. You
seem to get things done without bothering me with
your problems or talking too much. I don’t like questions, I don’t like problems, and I don’t like most people.
Do you have a problem with any of that?
“No, sir,” was the boy’s answer, which came imme
diately this time.
“Alright— you’re hired.”
“Thank you, sir. When do I start?”
“That’s a lot of sirs, Jerry,” Stone observed. “My father was an Army Ranger, a Sergeant. He
likes to be called sir.”
“I see…You can call me Stone.”
“Yes, sir,” Jerry agreed. Then Jerry watched silently
as Stone used the hot end of a short cigarette to light
another.
“You want out of here, right?”
“Yes, sir!” Jerry repeated, although this time, with
emphasis, saying it like he meant it. And he did. It was
an exclamation of fact, leaving no room for doubt. After
all, he definitely did want out of the Cherry Motel and as
far away as he could get from Sergeant Gerald Dunne,
Army Ranger.
“I live in San Juan Capistrano. You know where that
is?”
“No, sir.”
“Call me Stone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“A couple of hours’ drive south from here on the
coast. It’s a big place, with a room for you if you want
it.”
“That would be fine, s-s-s—Mr. Stone,” stammered
Jerry.
“Alright…” said Stone, taking time to think about
what he was about to say next. “I’ll be leaving precisely
at nine tomorrow morning. I like to be on time—see?
I’m still sore and can only see out of one eye, so if you’re
ready to go then, you’re driving.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Stone. I’ll be ready.”
“Just Stone, Jerry. Just Stone. It’s singular. You can
lay off the sirs now. You’re not in the Army anymore.
You can consider yourself discharged, alright?” Stone
half expected the boy to salute and bark out another yessir but knew the message had sunk in when Jerry answered, “Alright, Stone. I’ll see you at nine then.” Stone
caught the boy’s faint smile as he turned and left the
room.
The next morning, Stone closed the door to number
eight precisely at 9 AM. He had nothing to carry because
he’d brought nothing with him other than the ruined
clothes he was wearing when he arrived. His old clothes
were so stiff from dried blood they could’ve stood up
and walked away by themselves. Disgusted with the
smashed gold watch, he left that behind, too. Stone found Jerry standing beside his black Ford
sedan outside in the parking lot wearing a set of new
clothes. A pair of pristine new suitcases sat on the
ground next to him. The boy was standing at attention
as if he was about to be reviewed by a four-star general. Stone rolled his eyes, then said, “At ease, private.”
Jerry laughed at that, which surprised Stone, then he too
laughed, which surprised them both.
“The trunk is unlocked, and keys are still in the ignition. Go ahead and stow your things in the trunk. You’re
driving,” Stone declared, then took his time easing himself into the passenger seat with a painful groan. Once they
were underway, Stone directed Jerry to
head west on East Colorado Street.
“When you hit Highway 99, head south. Also, I am going to need a new watch, so keep your eyes peeled for
a jewelry store.”
Jerry nodded. Stone loved the fact that Jerry had
never once questioned him. Other than asking, When do
I start? He hadn’t asked a single question in four days.
Surely the boy must wonder why he had shown up in
the middle of the night beaten to a bloody pulp or why
he carried so much cash. Unlike most people, the boy
never tried to engage him in unnecessary conversation.
Moreover, he had performed every task given to him
perfectly.
What’s this kid’s story? Stone wondered. For all Jerry
knew, Stone might have been a bank robber on the run
from the cops—and yet there was no hint of suspicion
from him and no questions asked. Jerry hadn’t involved
his family either, other than to help him provide meals
when he slept during the day. Moreover, Jerry hadn’t
called the police like a lot of people would have done. Impressive, thought Stone with a nod. What a gem.
The kid was disciplined, brought up the right way, and
knew how to get things done without whining about
it. This Sergeant Gerald—whatever, Army Ranger, his father,
had done an excellent job raising the boy. What was his last
name? He couldn’t remember, then decided it didn’t
matter anyway.
Until Jerry the Gem came along, Stone never realized how useful a helper could be. Upon reflection, he
never considered bringing anyone into his life, let alone
hiring someone. However, the secrets Stone kept complicated matters. He couldn’t have just anyone hanging
around who might get in the way. While it was just a
gut feeling, he had a notion that Jerry wasn’t going to get in the way, cause problems, or question him about where the money came from. In just a few days the kid had proved himself to be trustworthy, obedient, and did whatever he was asked to do, quickly and without asking a lot of questions—all of which combined to make Jerry the Gem too good of a catch to pass on. Stone wondered why others hadn’t noticed the boy’s potential and
already snatched him away from the dumpy motel. “Sir, there’s a jewelry store ahead on the right. Do
you want me to pull over?”
“Alright,” Stone agreed. Then an idea popped
into his mind that he put in motion without a second
thought. A lot could be learned about the boy by sending him in to buy the watch for him, and if it worked
out, great. If not, and Stone didn’t like the watch, he
could always find a better one elsewhere. And if Jerry
skimmed some of the money, more would be learned. It
was a good plan.
As Jerry was busy parallel-parking the Ford in front
of the jewelry store, Stone counted out eleven one-hundred-dollar bills in his pocket without letting on what
he was doing or what he had in mind.
“I’m still too sore to shop,” he grunted. “Go in and
get the biggest, most expensive gold watch they have
in there. Here’s a thousand bucks. That ought to do it.”
Then Stone shoved the roll of cash at Jerry like he was
glad to be rid of it.
Jerry returned a few minutes later with a small
brown paper bag labeled “Parson Bros. Jewelry.” Stone
opened the bag to find a black velvet box, a receipt for
$429.41, and a sealed envelope containing $670.59 in
change. Inside the box was an elegant gold watch. Upon inspection, he noticed it was a Rolex. Stone’s eyes lit up. Although the watch was of a type and style he had nev
er seen, he was delighted with it.
As Jerry went about the business of entering traffic
on Highway 99, Stone exclaimed, “Hey Jerry, the receipt
and cash add up to eleven-hundred dollars, which is
more than I gave you. What did you do, cheat old man
Parson out of a hundred bucks?”
“No, sir. You gave me eleven one-hundred-dollar
bills. A couple of them must have stuck together,” he
explained. Stone noticed the faint smile on Jerry’s lips
as he casually merged into traffic. He also saw the kid
hadn’t said he counted wrong. The boy is sharp, Stone
thought, and a keeper.
Stone came away from his little experiment with
three things learned. First, and perhaps foremost, the
kid was life smart beyond his years. When asked about
the watch receipt, his self-respect was readily apparent.
No doubt, Jerry grasped that his honesty was being
tested and received a passing grade for it, too. Second,
Jerry was willing and able to do most anything asked of
him and get it right the first time. Third, the boy wasn’t
afraid or hesitant to speak up when he needed to. He
wasn’t one inclined to timidity or to cower, traits Stone
loathed—especially in men. Thus far, Jerry had aced every task assigned to him, and he felt good about bringing the boy aboard.
The three-bedroom ranch-style home outside of
Capistrano was recent but relatively modest considering
its location. At 320 acres, it was one of the last large tracts
of undeveloped farmland on the bluff within ten miles
either direction. The view from the ridge overlooking the Pacific Ocean was spectacular. In addition to Stone’s ranch house, the original homestead was also situated near the bluff, although one-quarter of a mile south of
the main house.
picturesque, with ancient Eucalyptus planted long ago
by homesteaders. The enormous trunks towered high
into the sky, creating long shadows. Slivers of intermittent sunlight strobed in the gaps as they rolled along
the gravel road. Acres of undulant farmland fenced in
barbed wire spoke of farm animals no longer present. “Stay right,” Stone commanded, “this is the old
homestead. You will be staying there. My place is up
the road a ways.” Stone directed Jerry past the big red
barn, a variety of smaller outbuildings, and an old
farmhouse.
“I like my privacy. You can have the farmhouse to
yourself. It’s furnished, but you will need to get outfitted. Drop me off at my place, and then you can use
the car to go shopping. I’m going to need to rest a few
more days, so I’ll call you when I need you or the car
back. My phone number is Olive-9-615. Can you remember that?”
“Got it, Olive-9-615,” Jerry repeated.
Stone eased himself gingerly from the car, then
abruptly slammed the door behind himself without a
word or looking back. Nevertheless, Jerry remained
parked watching his new boss hobble up the stairs, taking them slowly, one at a time, grunting and groaning
with each painful step, until the big man was safely inside. Only then did Jerry pull away and head toward the
drab-looking two-story farmhouse.
Jerry parked Stones’ car in front of the farmhouse.
Then gazing up at his new home, he concluded it wasn’t
too bad. But battleship grey does nothing for the place, he
thought to himself. Everything is grey, the siding, trim,
window frames—everything. I wonder if the boss will let me
brighten things
up someday.
Stairs led to a covered porch and the main entry.
Large picture windows faced the ocean view. A pair of
matching deck chairs with thick cushions were strategically placed to take advantage of the sunsets. Jerry
wondered if Stone had put them there or if he ever used
them. He doubted it, though. Stone didn’t seem like the
decorative type.
Fifty yards out, rolling hills sloped sharply toward
the beach, to the ocean and beyond. The expansive view
of the water seemed to stretch into a barely perceptible
haze at the horizon. Once Jerry had pulled himself away
from the view he found the door unlocked, let himself
in, and did a quick walk-through. Moving rapidly from
room-to-room, he found the house and furnishings better than the old house’s dated gray exterior suggested.
Evidence of updates was everywhere, including contemporary furniture and drapes, but nothing smelled
fresh enough to be considered brand-new. Everything
appeared to be new but unused.
Jerry saw no reason why he shouldn’t use the master
bedroom, so he unpacked his things in there then went to
the kitchen to check the cupboards, which also proved to
be new and unused. The closet, cabinets, drawers, refrigerator—everything was empty and showed no evidence
of ever being used. Stone was right; I’ll need to go shopping,
and soon, he thought. The day is still young. I’ll go now.
Once in downtown San Juan Capistrano, Jerry’s first stop was the Western Auto Store, where he picked up some cookware, a teakettle, dishes, silverware, towels, and toiletries. He also found a couple of paperback novels and a newspaper to read. After that, he stocked up on groceries at the Piggly-Wiggly Market. By the time he was done the Ford’s trunk and the back seat was so full there was no room for anything more. It was time to head for home.
Near the edge of town, Jerry saw a Studebaker dealer and pulled over to look at the new cars. Even after shopping, he still had over fifteen hundred dollars in his pocket, so while he didn’t know if he had enough to purchase a new car, he was sure there was more than enough there to buy a used one.
The moment the door closed on Stone’s Ford, and before he made it to the sidewalk, an overweight salesman with a bad case of belly overhang rushed at him from the sales shack. The redheaded man nearly ran to greet him, with his tie flapping in the wind like a flag.