Circuit Geeks: Hijinks in Jenks, #1

By Rylee Shelton

CW: references to domestic abuse

In this '80s comedy, Caroline is married to a really bad dude, and she gets pushed too far. First she has to decide she's had enough. Can she escape her imprisonment?

 

A computer tech enthusiast, Caroline's skills and understanding of the field is often overlooked by her husband. But a lovely gentleman from a foreign land, who is also passionate about computer tech, could be exactly what prompts her to take control of her life. When Sebastian steps up and shows Caroline what a man with a kind heart is made of, she will learn that she can't wait around to be saved. No, the power has been in her hands all along. Will her computer skills be the very thing that helps put her twisted soon-to-be ex-husband in his place?...

 

Circuit Geeks is the first of a romantic comedy series set in the early '80s. If you enjoy raw emotion mixed with quirky humor and adventure, then you'll enjoy this first installment by Rylee Shelton.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rylee Shelton
• Release date: Mar 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215428887

Rylee Shelton

Rylee Shelton lives out his days in Oklahoma - the heart of the nation - sipping water and thinking about burritos a lot. He loves to make up humans and have them do things in order to make real humans feel things.  He lives with his son. They have two dogs: one sweet and big, with a brain the size of a peanut, and the other tiny and scruffy who thinks he's everyone's boss. Rylee Shelton likes to relax with his son and talk about how terrible algebra classes are.

Book preview

It was 1981, mid-November, and Sebastian Gomez tried to hide the wet stains forming under his armpits. If this interview went south in any way, he’d pack his bags and head south, literally. Back to his mom in Mexico City, who fully understood the inconvenience of overactive sweat glands. And, presumably, back to his inheritance.

Ronald Reagan had just been elected when Sebastian’s father died. The war on drugs had been underway since the Nixon administration, and at every turn, Sebastian buckled down and finished his studies at Oklahoma State University despite the unwanted attention from white peers whispering about whether or not he was a drug runner. And, if that wasn’t enough to make him stay to himself (aside from not finding adequate deodorant to keep him dry), he was now tasked with either finding a job or going home. He’d been shocked when his work visa was approved. Now, he was out of time.

The front office of MicroLogistics was nothing special. The small white building tucked away in the city of Jenks, Oklahoma needed a new paint job. The inside lobby was nothing more than old wood grain wall panels and shag carpeting that needed replacing.

It smelled of stale cigarettes, which didn’t seem to bother the young blonde woman who acted as receptionist and secretary. She looked to be in her late twenties, not much older than Sebastian, himself. She’d barely glanced at him when he entered. In fact, she seemed perturbed to even make eye contact with him at all. 

The black rotary phone that hovered towards the edge of her desk gave a sharp ring. She gave a curt, polite answer as if she knew it was the boss.

She replaced the receiver, then suddenly needed a tissue before she said anything else. She wiped at her nose with sudden vigor, her corn silk, hairspray-bound bangs jiggling as she did so. When she tossed it in its proper receptacle under her desk, she said, Mr. Fouster will see you now. Before he could respond, she grasped for another tissue and sneezed in succession three times, giving the most dainty and high pitched achoo he’d ever heard.

Are you okay, ma’am? He wondered if she had a cold by the way her cheeks seemed pallid and the edges of her nose glowed red.

She didn’t look at him when she said, It’s just a bit of allergies. I get them all year.

He thought back to his mom. Felt the corners of his mouth lift in the beginnings of a grin. You know, my mom used to have the best remedy for allergies. Some honey-water, warmed on the stove for just a bit. Well, I guess the microwave would work too, but-

He stopped short. She was gazing at him like he was a drunken idiot. Her glasses hung on the tip of her nose while loose strands of random hair made a haphazard escape from their previous hairspray prison.

Okay, was all she said. I’ll remember that. The magic cure.

I mean, well, he stammered, it’s just a folk remedy, but-

The wood grain door leading to a back hallway opened and a tall man interrupted. Sebastian Gomez? he said.

Ah, yes. Yes, sorry, I’m right here.

Sebastian reached out to shake the tall man’s hand. He was lanky in most aspects, complete with a pointed nose, yet his gut protruded slightly over his belt. He wore a three-piece suit that looked uncomfortable and had been purchased from a bargain bin. 

Sebastian had no room to judge. He hoped like hell nobody noticed the pools of moisture under his arms.

The tall man smiled back at him. It’s great to meet you! Your resumé and GPA from OSU is impressive. Care to join me in my office?

Absolutely, sir. Thank you.

He took one last glance at the secretary as she sneezed in three violent successions into a new tissue. She wiped away her snot, met his eyes in a sideways glance, then huffed annoyance. Whether it was at her own maladies or his observation of her sneezing, Sebastian wasn’t sure.

But, she didn’t just look annoyed. As Sebastian followed the man down the hallway, something about the woman unsettled him. She looked broken somehow. Like her will to live was barely hanging by a thread.

He shook the thought away. His mom once told him, You never know people’s stories. What you see on the outside may not match what’s happening on the inside. This brought on another memory of his wise mother’s advice: Stay out of strangers’ business.

Mr. Fouster, ready to dig into Sebastian’s resumé once more, studied his file while leading him to a small office at the end of the narrow hallway. Fluorescent lights buzzed above them all around. The office walls were yellowed with nicotine, mostly on Mr. Fouster’s side of the desk. Sebastian noticed the overflowing glass ashtray right in the middle, mud-brown with notches around the perimeter should someone want to have a little smoker’s party.

Care for a cigarette? Mr. Fouster offered, following Sebastian’s gaze as he lit one for himself. Sebastian politely declined.

He let out a cloud from his mouth, still rereading the resumé. I see you’ve mostly worked in Mexico City. That’s where you’re from?

Yes, sir.

I can tell from your accent you’ve only recently learned English.

Sebastian frowned. He hated to correct the man since he desperately needed this job. But, he also didn’t want to lie.

Well, sir, I’ve actually studied English since I was a kid. I’ve considered myself fluent since graduating high school.

He didn’t want to explain to Mr. Fouster how second language acquisition worked, but Mr. Fouster’s own brows furrowed with skepticism. One didn’t just lose their accent any more than one just suddenly learned a language. It was always more complex than monolingual speakers thought, but he just wanted the job. He wanted to stay in the United States and send money back to his mom. That’s it. No need for talking down to the man.

You a Catholic? Mr. Fouster asked.

Uh, yes? he said, wondering how it was relevant.

Mr. Fouster continued, "You plan to marry American? Eh? Get yourself a gringa so you can stay permanently?" He said it with a smirk, as if they shared an inside joke.

Confused, Sebastian replied, You know, I’m not really concerned with that, to be honest. I’m just a guy who loves computer technology. If you look more deeply into my college experience, I’ve actually mapped out some intricate designs for motherboards that I suspect we’ll see hit the market in the next five years.

Mr. Fouster took a drag from his cigarette, suddenly looking bored to tears. Yes, from an electrical engineering degree. I get it. You have a pet project in mind. That’s great.

Sir, if I may? I might be the only person you speak with today who knows the scoop on what the big-name developers are working on. Just wait a bit because Apple is going to blow our minds soon. I can keep you on the cutting edge of tech here with my ability to dig for information.

Yes, yes, I’m sure you have some great skills. However, we don’t manufacture computer tech here. We just move it.

Sebastian seemed to collapse against the back of the chair. He’d misjudged what this company was.

But, honestly, Mr. Fouster continued, leaning forward conspiratorially, have you seen some of the women in this town? The pickings are slim, my man. You might find better opportunities in Tulsa. Bigger lake with shinier fish, you know what I mean?

Sebastian’s jaw hung open. What was this man on?

He decided on a different tack. He’d roll with the conversation topic just to see where the path led. He wasn’t going to be hired, he knew. Why not have some fun?

Oh, I don’t know. That secretary out front seems nice, Sebastian said offhandedly.

Mr. Fouster raised his eyebrows. Oh? You think so?

Sure, she’s very pretty and looks like she might set the standard. Maybe I’ll ask her to dinner. 

Mr. Fouster’s face sank. All joking and laughter left his eyes and changed into a glare.

Caroline? That’s my wife, man.

Sebastian flinched. His heart pounded.

Well, see? There you go, sir! Only a man like you would land a woman like that in Jenks, Oklahoma.

They stared at each other in silence for another moment. Sebastian could actually feel the moisture leaking out of his glands, searching for dry fabric to be absorbed, for which at this point, there was none.

Mr. Fouster finally burst forth in abrupt laughter, snubbing his cigarette into the ashtray. Piles of ash and brown butts shifted to make room for their newest neighbor.

Sebastian needed to leave this building. MicroLogistics was clearly not the place for him.

The tall tobacco addict reached out to shake his hand again, nearly ripping it from his socket. MicroLogistics is definitely the place for you! Mr. Fouster said. When can you start?

What an odd man that Sebastian guy was.

Caroline Fouster pushed her glasses back to her face, then abruptly sneezed three times in a row, thus forcing her to readjust them again.

The very moment Sebastian Gomez had disappeared into the hallway with her husband, she gave a light snicker at the fact he had dark pools of sweat under his arms. The snicker itself was the cause of her new explosion of sneezes.

Good God, she mumbled to herself before lifting her cup of water to her lips. She had to stay plenty hydrated with as much nose-blowing she fit into her regular day. Benson Fouster, her knight in shining armor, continuously shelled out money to keep the water dispenser replenished. She took special care to be conservative, though. She knew what happened when she drank the water too quickly.

That’s also for clients and visitors, you know, he’d said on numerous occasions.

Another favorite comment of his was, What are you? An elephant?

He’d pleaded with her for a year after their marriage to upgrade to stronger allergy medication. She’d even started getting injections, but nothing worked.

It absolutely killed their romance at every turn. She would even stop in the middle of sex because her nose would be too runny. At first, Benson complained about the abrupt halts of lovemaking, so she began to just let the nasal faucet flow. Then, he began stopping their lovemaking, being too grossed out by the tiny trails of moisture flowing from her nostrils.

That was all before The Big Disruption.

It was mild at first. The commanding voice. The smothering. The flighty moods. He was a force to be reckoned with when he didn’t get his way.

Why did you misplace that file? How could you lose that invoice? Why isn’t dinner ready?

That last one was a kicker. He gave her an hour head start from the office before everyone else left, including him, so she could rush home and make sure he was fed on time. In his mind, an hour was plenty of time to have the table set with steaming hot food.

She opted at one point to rush home during lunch and get something brewing in the slow cooker. That got old pretty fast. The Big Disruption happened when she came home so exhausted from the concoction of allergy medicine floating around in her system. Add to that the frigid weather of an Oklahoma March, and she was out cold five minutes after walking in their front door.

Caroline preferred not to think about that day. She shifted it to the back of her brain and locked it up tight. She did so even before anyone could ask questions. Claiming she’d fallen and bruised her forehead when she slipped on the early morning frost and hit the porch railing, busting her lip in the process, was convincing enough.

Sometimes the only available bandage to a Big Disruption is a Big Lie, temporary as it may be.

The resounding laughter behind the door lit Caroline into her usual rigid and composed posture. She snatched up wadded tissues, adjusted her glasses, and sniffed fluid back up into her nasal cavity just before the door opened and the two men appeared again. A renewed aroma of fresh cigarette smoke wafted out.

Caroline, came her husband's voice, be a dear and get our new friend set up with an ID badge, would you? He then looked at Sebastian. So, you’ll start Monday?

Not a problem, sir. I’m looking forward to it. She noted the light humor in Sebastian’s voice, as if he was still considering accepting the job. It could have been his Spanish accent creating such an illusion, but she wasn’t sure.

They shook hands again. Great! I’ll see you then.

When Mr. Fouster disappeared back into the hallway, closing the door behind him, Caroline got a better look at the man. He was much taller than herself, but still an inch shorter than her husband. Benson Fouster was an unnaturally tall man, but this Sebastian Gomez was much more well-proportioned. His shoulders were broad. The front of his hair wanted to twist itself into a curl, similar to classic Superman drawings, but came just short of doing so.

Despite his tone figure, she couldn’t get over the pools of sweat under his arms. Why didn’t he wear a business coat over that dark blue shirt if he sweated so much?

She said, Um, there’s a, um…

Losing her ability to speak wasn’t uncommon. She was typically wound