Half Cocked: George Sisco, #2

By Gregory Payette

George Sisco's still not convinced a life without crime is all it's cracked up to be...

 

As part of the Massachusetts inmate re-entry program, Dr. Amy Marlow is tasked with getting him back on the right track after another stint behind bars. But George has something else on his mind…

 

When his ex-brother-in-law Louie tries to persuade him to get in on some action, George is hesitant to put his trust in another one of Louie's screwball schemes. But if they can pull it off, this time the payout could be big. And the money could be all George needs to finally break free.

 

But everything starts to unravel before they even get started. The misfit gang George and Louie pull together threaten to derail their plans. And when they're forced to deal with an acquaintance who has a score to settle with George, they have to shift gears to cover their tracks.

 

But it's his blind pursuit of Dr. Marlow that'll turn out to be George's biggest mistake yet. When he finds himself in another mess he's not sure how to fix, he'll have to choose between the beautiful doctor's life and the so-called friends depending on him…

• Language: English
• Publisher: 8 Flags Publishing, Inc
• Release date: May 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734974966

Book preview

Chapter 1

GEORGE LEANED FORWARD on the couch, his eyes down toward the floor. He lifted his head and looked at Dr. Marlow. I’m sorry. But I just don’t see how this works. He waited, but she didn’t respond. Maybe it doesn’t work for someone like me.

Amy Marlow crossed her legs in the brown leather chair across from him. She placed her notebook on the side table next to her and stared back at George, her hands folded together on her lap.

He never understood why she spent much time being quiet. It made him uncomfortable. He said, What’s it been...six weeks since we started this? He looked down at his topsiders then leaned over and scraped something from the worn leather with his fingernail. All we do is sit and stare at each other. He leaned back on the couch and crossed one leg over the other, his arm extended out from his shoulder on the cushion. Am I really supposed to feel different after we meet?

She finally spoke. Six weeks? Doctor Marlow cracked a slight smile. It was a smile George liked. You’ve made progress. She grabbed her pad from the table and flipped through the pages. You did seven months in Rhode Island. And then... she paused a moment as she looked through her notes. Then three months went by, you end up doing three years in Norfolk, right?

I shouldn’t have done three. I wasn’t armed.

Doctor Marlow stared back at him. My point is, adjusting to life outside after being incarcerated, no matter how long it’s been, isn’t easy. She put the pad on the table and looked down at her hands and picked at one of her red-polished nails. You have to understand, this all takes time.

He looked past her and out the window overlooking Tremont Street.

I just wish it could be like it used to be, when I was younger.

Doctor Marlow kept her eyes on him, but paused a moment before she spoke. You’re looking back at your life of crime as a time of joy? We need to move you away from that thought process. The past is the past. You need to look forward, toward the future...so you can be a positive member of society.

George thought for a moment. You say it’s not easy but then you make it sound like it’s easy. But, you know, I look back, I mean...back when I was just a kid in my twenties. He held out his hand with his palm up, his fingers curled. Had the world by the balls. He shifted in his seat. I’m sorry. I just mean...Every day was an adventure back then. I had a lot of people around me...people who wanted to be my friend or in some cases wanted to work beside me, like I was something special.

You paid a price for that life. She looked down into her lap and paused a moment. "You’ve been to prison three times, lost nearly eight years of your life when you add all that time together. Think about that for a moment. Amy turned and again picked up her notebook. She flipped through the pages. Did you ever meet with Janet Smith?"

"Who?"

Janet Smith. She’s the career counselor you were referred to. She’s helped a lot of people in your position, who’ve been in prison and want to get re-acclimated back into society by moving forward with a career you’d—

A career? She’s the one who suggested I go back to school, get my degree. George rolled his eyes.

You don’t like that idea?

A forty-one-year-old going back to school? He shook his head. No, I don’t like the idea. I need to make money. Today. He leaned forward on the black leather couch, his elbows rested on his knees. I get ten bucks an hour right now. You know what that gets me at the end of the week?

She nodded in agreement. I understand, but... She put the pad back on the table next to her. But do you like the job?

George brushed his hand in the air toward her. I worked in a grocery store as a kid. He huffed a slight laugh through his nose. I used to walk out of the place with a filet stuffed in my pants. We’d grill up some steaks at my friends, get stoned and watch hockey.

Amy looked down into her lap and paused a moment before she spoke. And that’s the life you miss?

He shrugged. Which part?

She sighed. Let’s try to look past the juvenile delinquency, okay?

I didn’t like working in a grocery store for spare change back then. And I don’t like it now. It’s humiliating.

Amy nodded. It’s just a start. Look at it as a step toward a better future, that’s all. You need work experience so you can move into something else...show you succeeded at one thing and you’re ready to move forward. You just need to show you’re ambitious...prepared to do what it takes.

George leaned back on the couch and crossed one leg over the other, bouncing his foot as he looked off, around her small office. I thought I had a good career.

They both sat quiet again.

Amy grabbed the notebook again, flipped through the pages. What about, uh... she turned a page, Samantha? When we first met, you said you wished you could find her and apologize. But, you said she’s in Florida?

George took a breath and again leaned forward on the couch. Yeah, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. A few years have gone by, and her dad’s a retired cop. I’m not sure it ever would’ve worked out anyway.

Well, Amy said, You mentioned her, I just thought—

"I knew her right before I was arrested. I guess you could say we almost had something going. She was nice. Smart. A lot smarter than me."

You wouldn’t want to reach out to her?

George shook his head. Who knows...she’s probably married with kids at this point. He gave Amy a nod with his chin. She was going to be a counselor or, I don’t know, a psychologist or something.

Oh?

They both sat quiet again for another couple of moments until the doctor said, I think it’s too soon we end your sessions. Besides, it’s not really allowed. Not unless you see someone else. Just keep in mind...it all takes time. And I’ve helped plenty of people like you, who—

Bad guys? Like me?

Amy swallowed hard and shook her head. You’re not a bad guy, George. She kept her composure as she nodded. I mostly work in the prison system. But I also see others...people in mid-life who’re looking for direction after a setback.

Ex-cons?

You just have to remember, it’s not the prison that put you in your situation.

George looked down at his shoes. Like I said, my life of crime wasn’t so bad.

Doctor Marlow gave a slight roll of her eyes. I’m sure that’s not what you said to the parole board? She stared back at him as if she was holding back a smile.

George raised his eyebrows. I thought you told me I should be honest with you? I’m just telling you the truth...it beat stocking shelves at a grocery store.

Of course. This doesn’t work if you’re not honest. She looked down toward the floor then raised her eyes to his. You seem to be a very honest person. I mean...minus your criminal past. I can tell. You have what I’d consider an honest personality, at least in the way you tend not to hold back the truth. Or at least what’s on your mind. That’s helpful. At least while you’re here.

George narrowed his eyes. I thought you said you don’t judge?

It’s an observation. I think, deep down, you’re a good person. Misguided, more than anything. You only know what you know, because of the way you’ve lived your life and what you’ve learned along the way...from your father and even your mother, from what you’ve shared with me. She paused a moment. It’s up to me to help you change the way you think about life.

George laughed. You’re not the first woman to say that to me.

Amy pushed a strand of hair from her face. It’s not easy out there for anyone. But as people, we learn to push through. For you, you just need to get past the idea you can’t have a good life without resorting to crime.

Chapter 2

IT’D BEEN THREE YEARS since George had seen his sister Joyce. She never even stepped outside when the cops had arrested him right there on the front steps of her house.

Never visited him at Norfolk, either.

But that’s just how she was. Burnt from all those years as a kid going to visit their father, who had spent a decent part of his own life behind bars. Just like dad, Joyce would always say to George.

When he was finally free, George didn’t want to go back to Rhode Island. He instead headed to Norwood, just outside of Boston. A friend of the family, a guy named Frank who owned the pizza place, helped find George a place to stay for a while. It just so happened his roommate was an ex-con.

But rent was cheap. Although, George would say cheap was relative. Maybe it was cheap to some people, but what they were paying him at the grocery store made even six hundred a month out of reach. He didn’t even get a bed...slept on a couch.

Still had to pay half the rent.

He had the day off and hung around the apartment, looked at his phone every few minutes and thought maybe he should call Joyce. But he didn’t.

He leaned back against the sink in the kitchen as his phone rang. He recognized the number right away. Four-oh-one area code.  He answered, Roy?

After a brief pause, Roy said, You’re alive?

Yeah, man. I’m alive. Not sure that’s a good thing, but... He sipped from a plastic bottle of flat ginger ale. How’d you get this number?

Louie had it.

"How’d he get it?"

Roy didn’t answer. So how is it? Back out in the real world again? Boston, huh?

I’m not in Boston. Norwood.

Yeah I know where that is, I think. The Norwood car mile or something, right?

The auto mile.

And you’re close to Pawtucket, aren’t you? About twenty-minutes away?

Something like that. Maybe a little more.

Reason I say that, thought maybe we could meet for a beer. I was going to stop by Eddie’s.

I’m not drinking.

You mean right now? Roy said.

At all. I’m on the wagon. Besides, last thing I want to do is bump into someone I know over there.

At Eddie’s? When was the last time you were there? New owner, whole different crowd. Didn’t you hear Eddie died?

George thought for a moment. How would I hear that?

Eddie took a stroke. Right behind the bar. Heard his eyes rolled back into his sockets, dropped dead a day later.

No shit?

Really.

The line went quiet for a couple of moments.

Roy said, So you got a car?

George shook his head as if Roy could see through the phone. I can barely afford rent.

So what’s that mean, no car? Train goes up that way, doesn’t it? Drop you right off in Providence.

I don’t know, I have to—

Come on, George. It’s been a long time. We don’t have to go to Eddie’s.

GEORGE WALKED INTO the bright sun outside the train station, looked around for Roy’s van but realized it’d been a few years, maybe he was driving something else. Although as far as he knew, Roy still had the power washing business.

He looked back and forth along Gaspee Street and heard a horn blow, saw headlights flash on a van parked in front of a meter. But it was different from the one Roy used to have, and he wasn’t quite sure it was him.

But as George got closer he saw it was Roy behind the wheel and walked around to the passenger side. He stuck his head inside the open window.

Roy gave him a nod. You look the same.

George cracked a slight smile as he looked across the seat at Roy’s head. Where’d your hair go?

Roy ran his hand over the skin, shining on the top of his head. I was losing it anyway, figured I might as well finish the job. I wasn’t about to start messing around with comb-overs, like my father used to do.

George pulled open the door and sat in the passenger seat, looked at all the papers and rags and a couple of clipboards that covered the entire dashboard. He turned his eyes to Roy as he came to grips with the new look. And the goatee, huh? You look like the guys I just left behind on the inside.

Roy turned the key and pulled the van out of the parking space, drove down Gaspee and cut over toward North Main.

They drove quiet for the first couple of minutes. George felt a little uncomfortable, even though Roy was a friend he’d known since they were kids.

George said, Roy, I really appreciate you coming to visit me up there.

Roy kept his eyes on the road. Yeah, sorry it’d been a while since I got out there. Just got busy with work and everything.

Joyce never came to see me. Not even once.

Roy turned and shrugged. You surprised?

George didn’t answer.

What about Dawn? She ever stop by?

You’re kidding, right? George gave Roy a look then shook his head. He turned and looked around at the van’s cargo space behind him, filled with cardboard boxes filled with magazines. How’s the pressure washing business?

Slow. I took on a job filling magazine racks at grocery stores to bring in some extra money. A lot of competition in the power washing business. The extra money helps.

George thought for a moment. Maybe that was something he could do. Is it any good?

"Is what any good?"

The job, doing the magazines.

Roy shrugged. I don’t know. It’s a job. Extra cash. I guess if I had more time I could make more money doing it. Roy turned, looked right at George. Trying to make an honest living is harder than it used to be. I’ll tell you, sometimes I wished I’d done like you, gone to college.

What difference did it make? I only went for a couple semesters.

Roy pulled onto 95. So what’re you doing for money?

Stock shelves at a grocery store. The IGA, in Norwood.

Yeah? Any good?

George shook his head. "No, not at all.

Chapter 3

ROY WAS RIGHT WHEN he told George he wouldn’t recognize a soul inside Eddie’s Place.

George looked along the bar as he sat down and ordered a Coke. Where’d everybody go?

Roy sipped his Miller Lite. "I don’t know, the new owner got into an argument with one of the old regulars. You remember