A Guardian of Innocents Read Online Free PDF Page A

Heeheehee—HEEEEEE!!!  Heeheehee—HEEEEEE!!!”
    She squealed with laughter, but covered her mouth with her hand as if ashamed of it. Another customer came up behind me, forcing the girl to add up the prices on each of the tags of the items I had picked out.
    Remember why you are here, the voice from the gutters demanded again.
    “That’s $8.50”
    I gave her cash in exact change, said, “Thanks,” and was on my way towards the door when she called out to me.
    “Oh, wait! Let me give you your receipt!”
    She tore the paper from the register and scribbled something on the back with a pen. She stuffed it into a plastic bag along with the clothes I had stupidly left sitting on the counter in my rush to get out.
    “Here ya go!” she said as she handed me the bag, the blushing of her face clearly visible from her lack of make-up.
    On my way out of the shop and into the old Nova I’d inherited from Jack, I fished out the receipt from the bag to check out what the girl had written.
    The cursive handwriting was large and loopy, typical of a teenage girl. It read, “Melanie,” and had her phone number scrawled beneath it along with a little message, “Call me if you need someone to help you with your lines or something!”
    I smiled. “Or something. . .”
    When I was safely out of Melanie’s view from the front store window, I crumpled up the receipt and dropped it onto the sidewalk, adding to the already excessive trash littering this particular neighborhood.
    Now don’t get me wrong. The girl was sweet and definitely pretty enough, but I knew she would be talking to her friend soon and would then find out her wonderful boy-buddy, Alan, has no idea who the hell I am and that there is probably no play going on at Lake Highlands, at least none that involve homeless characters.
    *          *          *
    And so here I am sitting in the vehicle Jack used to own, parked in front of a double-wide trailer that serves as an office for a small construction company. I chose to park there due to the absence of streetlamps, no one would be able to see me sitting in my car for the hours it took to wait for Jack to leave the titty-bar across the street.
    I had a lot of time to think during those hours. I thought about all the shit Jack had done to me over the span of my short life, as far back as I could remember. I thought about the little boy at church he fantasized about. But mostly, I thought about the conversation I’d had with Jack earlier that day.  
    It was 6 am, the time when he was getting ready for work and I was just waking up for school. He was already thinking about how much he was looking forward to going to Stiletto’s tonight.
    Doris had already fixed our breakfast and was now putting together our brown bag lunches. Jack’s wallet and car keys were sitting on the table where they always were. Part of the morning ritual. Doris always put them there so her husband wouldn’t forget them on his way out.
    “Hey, Dad, need to borrow ten bucks for gas.”
    He looked disgusted, “You got a job at the dollar theater, didn’t you? Don’t they pay you over there, or do you just work for free?”
    I hated him, absolutely and undeniably hated him at that moment. It wasn’t just because he was cheap when it came to borrowing money either, it was because I knew why he was so reluctant to hand over ten dollars.
    Tuesday nights, between five and eight, all lap dances were half-price at Stiletto’s. That meant ten bucks could buy him a four-minute cheap thrill. I saw it all in his mind.
    But I also knew he was running late this morning due to the extra-long shower he had indulged in. He had been taking his morning shit while looking over one of his favorite porno mags, and had decided to spend some quality time with himself immediately after.
    I hid my anger as best I could, “Yeah, they pay me, but not until Friday, and my gas gauge is currently sitting on E. . .  If you want, you can take me to