The Tattooed Devil Wears Chucks

Chapter 25: Thank You

Jax.

The small plastic cup in my hand fills with urine and I hand it off to Scott.

"No lip today Parker?" he smiles as he writes my name on it.

"What can I say Scotty?  It's not my day..."

"Of all the UA drops, you're my favorite Jackson." He laughs and takes the cup out with him.

I'm still not used to living in such a small community.  I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that when I walk into the county sheriffs office that everyone knows my name.  They are friendly, I try and crack jokes.  Some like it, some don't. 

I make my way down the narrow hallway of offices as people greet me until I find that of Officer Brooks.

I tap on the door a few times.  "Dan?"

"Come on in Jackson." I hear from behind the door.

He sits behind his desk with his glasses on the tip of his nose.  He's not in uniform today, which is unusual for our meetings.  Typically I see him in his dark gray uniform but today he's casually dressed in jeans and a plaid navy button up shirt.  The top buttons are undone, leaving his collar to hang open loosely.  He doesn't look like a cop today, he just looks like a tired dad.

I sit in one of the two uncomfortable pleather chairs he has in front of his desk and look around.  I've never really looked at his office before.  There's loads of Vikings Football memorabilia but also some personal items.  Pictures of family vacations, golf balls, items his kids have made him over the years.  Behind his desk is another long row of cabinets containing family pictures.  One in particular catches my eye of a little blonde girl in a yellow chair in what looks to be a garage, reading a book that looks much larger and advanced for any girl that age.  I can't make out the book title, but I know it has to be Gabby.

"She likes cars." Dan sees me eyeing the photo.  He points to it.  "Her mom didn't like that I would let her under the car with me because she'd come in dirty, so I got her a chair to read in.  She'd watch me and read for hours."

I chuckle and remember how she always referred to Tyler's car as a piece of shit.

"My kids are going to be the death of me.  And when I go they will fight for my '87 Buick Grand National.  Gabby just wants the chair."

"That's because she doesn't want a car... she wants a '67 Chevy Pickup."  I look to him.  I shouldn't have said it, he hates when I'm around her. I've given up hiding it since the night he picked up Gabby from my home.

He looks to me as if I shouldn't know that.  "Yes she does" he gives a nod.  "In a very specific shade of teal and a tailgate that has Chevrolet in white."

"Sure" I shrug.  "She didn't go into detail about it."

He sighs and picks up his pen.  No look today. He really does look exhausted.  Maybe it's the lack of uniform, but even his gray hair is showing through more than usual.

"I hear you got a job" he begins.

"Mickey's.  I'm a busboy, it's everything I've always dreamed it would be."

"And that is...?" he looks over his reading glasses.

"Dirty." I reply without hesitation.  "Not quite what I went to school for but doesn't require as many brain cells.  At least I get paid."