"You think that I liked being hit?"
"No." She's sitting across from me her legs spread on either side of the back of the chair, her chin is delicately balancing on the black plush of the backrest. "You just got used to it."
"You're fucking insane."
"I'm not quite as wacko as you are Logan." She stood up, her jeans are ripped, not like mine, pre-worn from somewhere, but ripped because the seams are frayed and she's done so much in one pair that they fray. She wears Con's only she's hacked off the lables. She does that with all her clothing, and she seems so normal otherwise.
I'm relaxing. We're both on break, for once I just sucked it up and took my cushy community service gig instead of paying people off. I work at this place downtown, really downtown. Most of the kids speak Spanish better then English, and I get treated like an idiot.
She grabs some condoms, piling them into various containers, I debate standing up and helping her, but I'm normally not very helpful.
"So what do you mean by I got used to it?"
"Oh come on, its fucking abuse, you just deal or you break down."
"I could have broken down." I smile as I grab a variety of flavored condoms dropping them mechanically into different containers, mentally taking a tally of cherry, mint banana as I drop them in. "This could be me picking up the pieces."
She turns to me. Here we don't get the privilege of lying. There just isn't time for that shit. "No one comes here when they got it all figured out rich boy."
I have nothing to say to that. We stand facing each other, piles and piles of condoms separating us. Its almost funny except we don't stand there long enough for the comedic effect.
At Neptune there was time for that, I have great comedic timing, I know when to stop, when to go. And yes, I even knew when to stop. Didn't very often I'll agree to that. But I could tell when it was getting me in trouble.
But here. There isn't time for me to look clever, by the time I know it should be funny the humor of the two of us standing opposite looking over of all things, condoms. But by then she's already picked up one of the buckets and I've done the same and we're carrying them out front.
Out front its noisey and annoying and it smells. It depends on what's just gone down. If some mother has forgotten her kid's got a diaper that needs changing then thats what it smells like. If one of these two kids who for some reason always stink to high heaven are in then it smells like their disgusting oder. If for some reason we have cookies then thats what the front smells like. The back is always the same odd mixture of the streets, coffee and stale air.
At Neptune everyone notes how politically incorrect I am, but here everyone is. If someone stinks everyone yells at them that they stink. It may be crude and a real sign of how far down these people are. The kind of things I used to poke fun at and mock in other people if only because I knew how apparent they were in me. But here I feel at ease.
I've shared this with my most of the time working partner, the nosey girl Bri. She says its because I don't hide shit the way most people do. That because of all the things I've been through I call a spade a spade.
I think its cause I know I'm white trash masquerading as something else.
I walk out into the front room, grabbing my condom basket like its important. And of course it is, just think how important and how many lives that have been if not saved, kept by this little layer of latex.
"Put it over there" Emily the short woman in charge of the front room or "drop in" directs me. Bri of course knows where to put her condom bucket without even checking in.
When I first started coming here I could hear people when I came out, normally dashing between in back and the kitchen where I would have to clean and prepare food. Now its just a roar, a quiet roar of their yelling and bitching.
I know what I sound like now, whining about the fact that something isn't perfect. They yell at me for doing anything.
I move back and look over at Bri, who somehow manages to not look like an idiot every time someone notices her. She smiles at me "We got filing to do Logan"
How in the world did this become my life?
Author's notes: SO I haven't seen any of season two, this takes place during like the spring semester, I'm assuming he gets off the murder rap (I haven't seen the show but have read spoilers) and then does something stupid, and takes community service instead of making a big deal out of it. The next few chapters will backtrack to that and then catch up with this one.
Warnings: Original character, liberal perspectives. This place Logan is working at is based off a place I volenteer at and its very liberal and deals with people who are at the end of their rope. They do take court ordered community service people, but yeah, so thats the warning.
