HAZE

Chapter 1

Three years ago, Justin would already be out on his feet, with another by his side, they’d step out of a car with fake plates and real tools. A bloody plan set, dangerous hands and deadly minds ready to go. He wouldn’t be watching, patiently waiting for one of the customers to exit their already broken UPVC door, he’d boot it in again. They must’ve a habit of owing money he thinks as he peers over the steering wheel, the only people kicking nitty doors in is for owed, because surely isn’t to rob the empty TV stand. Sometimes, messages needed to be sent instead. He hasn’t decided what he’ll send today, calmer as he’s aged and thinks these events through now. Consequences you see don’t appreciate the sob story of looking after his sister. No one gives a fuck and no one gives a fuck if his sister eats. Calm, stay calm. He says to himself as he rings for the fourth time and cancelled, again. He grips the black leather with his bitten nails.

It’s messy, a temper is always messy. It’s taken a few years locked up but he got there. So, he waits and dismisses lesser instincts. It’s boys that react, it’s the men that calculate. Wisdom from prison, nuggets from men that never read a book until they got ten years.

This is England, black tarmac and grey slabs on the pavement, mirroring the sky and the eyes of boys in disguise of men, washes away all violence better. Wait for the sun to go down and it’s a coagulated stain of mud in the morning. Better that, do them in their house and make them wash blood off the floor and look at the void where rotten teeth used to be. Make them relive the message every single time they make a cuppa.

No, not today. A few years sleeping next to his shit stains and that of his cellmates have calmed him down. He’ll wait, be patient. A naughty reputation has already been established in his teens, he’s a man now, surrogate father and some.

It’s about getting paid off the back of all those problems already dealt with. Remember Justin, it’s about the money, not pride. It’s easy to say, not so when that’s all you start life with. He can’t remember the guy who used to say this on remand, it’s been a few years, maybe Robert he thinks. He didn’t listen to these guys at first, too much brag mixed in, so ended up back in for another stretch of wasted potential-lost customers. Those words only jumped out when his cellmates midnight dump brought him senses.

Then again he can feel the rage building as he watches his customer put his hand up as he exits his broken front door. An unearned smile across his withdrawn cheeks and not enough fear in sunken eyes he thinks. Justin flashes his lights, calling him over.

‘Alright Justin, I’ve got some bad news and really good news.’ He said shuffling in the seat nervously.

‘Another fucking time man, I think I’m too nice. It’s been weeks, too nice I am. Am I too nice?’ Said Justin smiling. He wasn’t smiling with his eyes, just a rigid mouth, eyes penetrating right into his customers.

‘I’ve got good news.’

‘I’ve got empty hands, I don’t like empty hands Dale. Am I too fucking nice?’ Said Justin raising his voice at nice.

‘Today.’

‘Where’s the notes?’

‘Today, good news I swear.’

‘Notes, where’s my notes? Am I too nice, I must be.’ Said Justin like he was being shaken with every word. He only heard bad news, empty hands after a month is always bad news. Dale is lucky the memory of shit stains are still fresh in the nostrils, as he looks down to Justin twitching his hands violently. He wonders, his eyes react but his body doesn’t as he sits there, just wondering what those unsmiling eyes and violent twitching hands are going to do.

‘I’m just waiting for my pay to come through, month in hand, it won’t be long.’ Said Dale swallowing. He knows he’s made him wait long enough, four paylips later he should’ve known this day would come.

‘I’ve been waiting for three, four weeks now, I don’t know, long enough for me to forget. I’m trying to stay calm here Dale, stay calm Justin, give this little prick a chance.’ Said Justin and he was all of sudden very still. Dale swallows.

‘Today, it’s just payroll taking the biscuit.’

‘I am not joking, you’re taking the jaffa. I’ll cut you, I’m not nice, I know I’m not. You know me, what I’m about, I’ve calmed down a lot but, but, but I’m not a mug, and I won’t be taken for one by a little rat like you.’

‘Today man.’

‘Where’s my money at?’ Said Justin as he flicks a knife out, plunged to Dale’s throat and grips his ear before shouting, ‘notes, many notes, I want my fucking notes.’

The barely legal tint of the Audi didn’t dull the shine of the blade, though black, the edge was sharpened to a mirroring glint. A small lock knife, under three inches and still legal. A multi-use knife with a glass breaker on the handle with a seatbelt cutter. If he was ever stopped, it’s a defence in court. Can’t swallow or plug a blade like his product. Gone are the days of rolling around with a twelve-inch serrated machete. He had no defence, lost years for a ‘might need it’.

‘Today…Justin, I swear.’ Said Dale looking to a council maintenance van parked ahead, a tradie unloading his tools, blissfully unaware of how invoices get paid around here. Dale thinks about running, looking down to the handle. He’s been smoking twenty years; knows he wouldn’t make it to his front door. Puffing since he was eleven, bottom in PE until he left school for a reason.

‘Notes!’ Screamed Justin. He flipped the knife, gripping with his left hand, before Dale had a chance to react, the glass breaker is off his forehead. Dale knew something was coming, would’ve preferred a punch.

‘Today, I swear, I swear today man.’ Said Dale putting his hands to his bloody face. It was a small cut but was thick down his cheek.

‘Shut up, I’m thinking.’ Said Justin opening the knife once again.

He was tempted, too tempted to just cut him now and forget the money. Nearly a month, justified he thinks. People need to know. Nearly a month, he keeps repeating like a silent prayer. Then he remembers, he’s a good customer, at least usually. He got credit because he’s a good customer, at least usually has the money. Think of the money he tells himself. Justin knows he’s lost him for a bit, then he’s racked up a debt with the new guys and he’ll come crawling back eventually. He made his point.

The last time he didn’t think about his actions, he spent too long sleeping next to those shit stains and not earning. Line gone, picked over by the police while his customers get picked off by rivals. It’s taken months to get this line working like last time. He’s got too much to lose and if he plans longer than six months might have his dream S3.

‘Today.’ Said Dale massaging the crown of a dented skull, wiping blood onto his t-shirt. Smooth brain throbbing and Dale could think of was thankful it’s just the once, at least for now.

He had it coming, it’s been about six weeks Justin had forgotten. Little burners don’t hold the memory and they’re used for a reason. Dale wonders if Justin will remember how long it’s been and just stab him. It wouldn’t be the first time. Holes in his nose have led to more than a few on his skin. He’s already added another to his growing nitty collection of stupidity. He thinks about snitching, if he cuts me I’ll snitch he says to himself. He’s done it before, use the law when it suited and hasn’t been found out. It’s only a few quid, few grams, not worth the risk. He’ll save that avenue for a debt he can’t pay like last time. Nine years for firearms and class A to supply on the news. Don’t be pistol whipping a man and expecting to keep the shooter in your breadbox.

‘Dale man, don’t force me to come heavy man.’

‘Today, I swear today, I swear.’ Said Dale, all the while thinking your line is gone if you cut me. He deserves a slap, even that sharp end, but not a slice.

Dale knew however, the law doesn’t matter sitting on this leather seat. There’s no guarantees the police would even react to his tip. It certainly doesn’t matter right now as he contemplates every single line that resulted in sitting here, with another trickle of blood running down his face, in another dealers car.

‘You lie to me, lie to me again Dale and it’s just going off, I’m coming into your house and it’s party time. When I mean into house, I mean I’m coming into your house, with your kids there, or not, that’s on you.’ Said Justin poking Dale in the temple.

‘I’m not.’ Said Dale, thinking through all this how he’d love a bump right now. It’ll take the edge off the stress.

‘Don’t make a bad decision lead to even more bad decisions.’

‘I swear Justin, it’s today.’

Bad decisions leading to even more. It started in the toilet of his local back in Walsall and very long time later, he’s here, another back to the wall situation with a sore head and an empty fridge for the kids.

‘Cheeky fucking bastard.’ Said Justin punching the steering wheel.

‘Chill out Justin, my pay hasn’t come through yet…..it will man, I swear. I just got the week wrong.’ Said Dale looking around, knowing he can’t be seen behind the darkened glass he swallows again hoping the ground would instead.

A young boy about nine cycles in the street and doesn’t even notice the hidden violence. Dale’s happy his kids are at his moms, time to clean up before they get back. They could’ve been out the street today too, but he sent them away knowing something was coming. At least they’ll come back fed and none the wiser. He doesn’t like scaring the kids and his youngest can’t stand the sight of blood, especially on her daddy. She’s seen enough blood, tears and burning spoons and has never gotten used to it. Some cuts are impossible to plaster over.

Dale winces as the blade is closer to his face than it is in length. Justin’s eyes are unmoving and blank, saying everything without his mouth needing to, not even drawing a breath. Not the first time he’s had one out and pressed to his throat, this time the well-earned reputation of the young man on the other end leaves trickles of cold sweat under his arms that begin to shake.

He’s ‘unpredictable and ‘a fucking loon’ reverberates, a warning he didn’t listen to. Those lines of coke dulled every sense of reason in his high mind. Four in the morning he’s spending the last of his money, only two hours later he’s trying to sleep picking boogies from his bloody nose and eating them hoping for a nugget of relief. The morning after he’s blowing his blocked nose into the sink with trickles of wasted cash down the plughole, after which he pries his sore jaw open to brush fucked up grinded down teeth with eyes closed as he can’t handle the sight of his weathered face.

‘You lying fuck, you said last Friday and haven’t answered a call since. A lot of lies, many fucking lies, I ain’t being taken for a mug, especially from a little prat like you.’ Said Justin pulling the knife away and for the first time smiling. Dale takes a moment.

‘Fucking hell, how long have you been sorting me out mate?’ I never get on credit, it’s just this new job is monthly, I get it all today, it’s just payroll mate….errr, I didn’t know, I swear mate.’

‘I ain’t your fucking mate.’ Said Justin snarling and without warning and fast like he was trained to as a kid boxing slaps Dale to the side of the head. Dale covers up using his elbow and waits for another, looks above the cruck of his sleeve and Justin is sitting back smiling, somewhat relaxed. ‘What time is it?’ Said Justin watching the street from the darkened glass he isn’t fazed by a return strike. He wouldn’t dare, no bottle or power he needs to worry about. He sits in this seat for a reason, and he knows it. He’s the predator, Dale’s the prey.

‘It’s only like three, they’re probably sorting it out now, I phoned, and they said any time before five. I swear man, I ain’t going to start playing games.’ Said Dale looking down to the knife still in a dangerous hand. A fucking loon his cousin said, who knows a few being an addict like himself for nearly ten years.

Stolen novel; please report.

‘I’m going to call you later and I’m going only call once. I expect you to pick up, or call me back very fucking quickly if I was you because I’ll be heading straight to that door. I won’t be playing, I’m not playing.’ Said Justin putting the knife away and smiling. He raises his hand and Dale flinches.

‘I get ye man, sorted before five.’

‘Don’t force me to come into your house, get out my car I need to call a mate.’ Said Justin and Dale takes his moment and scuttles away.

Justin speeds off down the street just as fast circling around he pulls up to a quiet street he knows doesn’t get much traffic from the police. They’ve been around a lot lately due to the Asian gangwar over the heroin market. He only drops until ten for now, too many undercovers hovering taking notes. He doesn’t fancy a chase or a bullet for a few grams of coke. He’s got enough to keep him going and his line on weed keeps everything on the up during the day. He turns his phone on silent at around nine and send outs the multi texts after his first joint in the morning, or usually, afternoon.

That’s his life and he chose it without much hesitation when he seen his cards laid out. He thinks he loves it, doesn’t know much better. It’s his ego being stroked in the only way it ever has been. He takes out his personal little bag of ninety percent pure and keys a bump. Straight off the block and up his nose. He bashes his source to pay for his habit. All in a day, paid for and powered by the line while waiting for a call from the next nitty on his. He takes out his real phone and finds a number that’s been in every single handset since his first and calls.

*

I always expect a call on a Friday, usually happy to answer after five but it’s my lunch and he knows it. If I don’t answer he’ll get lemon and won’t answer mine when I ask for a drop. Sappy little fuck I want to eat my lunch in peace. He’s probably had a bump and wants to chew my ear off over nothing like last week. This guy hasn’t changed in years. I love him though, always had my back and he might need me.

‘Easy Smithy, how’s your Friday going?’ Said Justin playing with his knife, looking to the little bit of Dale left on the glass breaker and smirking.

‘You can’t be wasting my lunch to ask me that….i’m at work eating, haven’t got long what you want?’ I said taking a bite of my sandwich. He’s had a bump and is wasting my time I can tell from the tone of his hoarse voice. I sit alone and prefer not talking to my colleagues for a reason. I like to eat in peace.

‘Haven’t even got time to talk to your pal at lunch? Working the dream.’ He said and I nearly threw the phone down and cancelled.

‘It’s living the dream you idiot and no, I’m not, glad it’s Friday and I’m done in a few hours. What do you actually want lad?’

‘Oh, time is precious for the working man. Do you want some work?’

‘I’m at work and you’re definitely not working.’ I said to a man that’s probably earned more money before noon then I’ll earn by the end of this full week.

‘My line of work, got something big on lad and need a lift from someone I can trust, you know really fucking trust. I haven’t got many of those around me, what you reckon?’

‘I reckon you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that question and having me on. How many times have I got to tell you mate, I’ve got a squeaky-clean job paying taxes right here. It’s shit but it’ll do.’ I said and I didn’t even believe a word.

‘Squeaky bum time when it comes to buying new trainers man…..some job.’ He said and I couldn’t argue. I’ve got the money, sort of, but I’ve worked too many hours to pay out a ton on a pair of new ones more than twice a year. I’m due an upgrade and he’s reminding me as usual.

‘I’m happy enough here.’ I said and Ben the resident machinist bursts out in laughter as he walks by. He mouths ‘run’ as he skips to the kitchen.

I hovered over the red phone to end the call as Justin laughs. Ben still chuckles as he empties leftovers in the bin. I wasn’t sure Ben heard me until he turned around and looked me dead in the eye, while laughing, wipes a figurative tear from his sleepy eyes. He’s lit, just smoked a joint behind the factory like he does every lunch. If I could afford it, I would join him. Might enjoy the boring job for once but I just about get paid enough to smoke on the evening.

‘You do make me howl lad, I needed that after the sad clown I had in the motor. Can still smell the rat, these guys linger like a granny fart. I wipe the seats down daily save catching Hep C from the gremlins.’

‘I want to finish my sandwich, hurry up.’

‘Alright, love the job you do man. You need to understand something my guy, it will get you out that bullshit dead-end factory to nowhere, you know, put some real cheese in your pocket instead of those manky cathedral shit you eat every day on you smart price bread.’ Said Justin looking down to his Prada man bag hidden in the side door, the zip undone with tens and twenties filling it about halfway.

‘I’m stacking now.’ I said looking to my cheese sandwich on the smart price bread. The guy knows me well enough.

‘Filling penny jars don’t count lad, if you’re going ASDA to exchange shrapnel for a few notes in a machine once a year, sorry to break it to you, that’s slacking, not stacking.’

‘You’re slacking showers, I don’t think it’s for me mate. Anyway, I’ve got to finish this cheese sandwich, with pickle you will approve and get to work paying your moms rent. We’ll talk later.’ I said and Justin just ends the call without a goodbye. I shouldn’t have mentioned his mom, I’ve known her long enough.

Not the first call I’ve had like that. I’ve had maybe one or two a year since about fifteen when Justin was kicked out of school. At first the sell would be face-to-face and persistent over a joint or three. He doesn’t like no but he’s grown to respect my choices. Even if his words don’t say it I can feel it.

I look to the clock high up on the wall above the kitchen, I’ve haven’t got long, less than ten minutes until I finish the last bit of this vile week. Nothing worse than rushing lunch talking to people, I need my time to relax and prepare mentally for this shit. I take a bite of my sandwich, always tastes better on a Friday, even more than my Wetherspoons lunch because how long it is until Monday. I’m dreading starting next week and I haven’t finished this one.

*

I only touch people at work when shaking hands and even then, it’s just to be polite. I wouldn’t offer my clean hands willingly, preferring an autistic nod after sitting in the stall next to half these grots doing their business and most don’t even turn on the tap. I put just a finger on the handle and pry the door open with my boots. I don’t even use the kitchen.

So, when I feel a pinch on my shoulder, followed by the sweat of a man who washes his clothes on a cold cycle engulf my personal space, I was nearly repelled out my seat. One minute I’m tasting the last of my cheese sandwich, next I’m smelling a cheesy feet cycle mixed with too much surf.

‘What you think you’re playing at? The bell went five minutes ago.’ Said Mark and he pumps with excitement and his frown breaks into an unnatural smirk. The lines on his brow can’t hide his natural state of being. I could feel his energy like I could smell his dirty laundry. He enjoyed this moment standing over me. I’ve been here ten weeks and done well to stay under the radar. Not anymore, I can almost sense his excitement, I’ve given this guy an excuse.

‘Didn’t hear it, I’ll put my stuff away and get back out there.’ I said standing quickly and gathering up my lunchbox. I didn’t say sorry, I made that mistake before and shows weakness to these guys. It’s only five minutes, at least I thought. Mark was already standing over me and didn’t even step back, instead shuffled forward as I pulled my chair out. He steps closer and outside of work he would’ve had my clean hands on his jaw, or most likely Justin stepping in before I had a chance to react.

In my first week I had my warnings about Mark. Mark the shark or Mark the little cunt was on the end of every lip. The shark didn’t keep his beady little eyes off me for a second. I look away meekly. I know then I dropped blood in the water and this guy was loving it. I could feel his cold heart through his moobs he was standing so close.

‘What’s your name?’ He said looking down to my feet and then straight up to me. I’m young and in good shape, this guys got ten years on me and from his reddened face most of them years haven’t been kind to him, only to the local off license and kebab takeaway.

‘Dan Smith.’ I said looking him dead in the eye. I tried not be worried but my heart was racing.

‘So, do you think it’s acceptable to steal company time? You know the policy, it’s in the handbook and is a sackable offence.’

‘Like I said I didn’t know, I’m on my way now.’ I said turning away from Mark and putting my phone in my pocket. He might have been sensing blood but I was starting to see red. I’m nearly over the line, the week is nearly done and I’ve got this shit. It’s been a long week, Friday afternoon for fuck sake is all I was thinking.

‘Not even an apology, not the attitude that gets you far around here, is it?’ Said Mark walking away. I thought that was it until he turned around and joyfully raising his voice. ‘I’ll be writing you up, management pay me to keep you losers in check and get rid of the deadwood.’ Said with a wave walking to a door signed ‘office/authorised personal’ that leads to the mezzanine level.

‘What?’ I said walking after him. The red mist was blurring my vision. The taste of my mothers red wine was in my mouth. ‘What are you chatting? Only sitting here a few minutes, can’t be fucking a man over for a few minutes.’ I continued into a run before he reached the door and leaves the canteen. The door has digital keypad lock and once it’s closed I won’t get to him. It’s nearly empty, everyone’s gone back to their shift and only the cleaner is left taking out some rubbish. The older lady with a limp and forever smile doesn’t seem to notice as she exits with a full bin bag that drips her route behind.

‘No time here for wasters. I suggest you know your place and be grateful if you’re back on Monday. Always got a few lined up for a quick replacement, don’t you worry about that.’ He said punching in the code and opening the door.

‘Enjoy it don’t you? Jobsworth cunt.’ I said and he turns to me.

I’ve had a few dramas at work, usually older and not in management. Forty something blokes who’ve just realised this it for them and they’re bring the young ones down to their level with their nasty mouths. Mark was different, he doesn’t back down and walks to me. Through all his kebab moobs thought he was something, challenging me even to hit him, goading with his hands in pockets and smirking. I really wanted to. He presses forward, forcing me back. The family men with mouths to feed must take it and this bastard knew how far to push a desperate man. I take a step back, with every inch is another drop of blood to this shark.

‘Now fuck off back to your line, you little waste of space prick.’ Said Mark pointing to the factory door.

The machines have started, their vibrations can be felt through the concrete floor. The vibrating anger I feel tingling in my hands itching to react is all I feel consume me. I should’ve took a moment, I should’ve thought about my options.

‘You’re the prick, you fuck off.’ I said picking up the nearest chair, I hold it above my head with two hands and throw towards the kitchen and off the cabinet doors.

‘Fucked it now.’ He said laughing and punching in the code, opening the door and quickly shutting behind him. He then gleefully watches from the glass window.

‘You better run.’ I said picking up another chair and throwing it at the door smashing the glass.

Well, Mark was right. I had done it now. I succumbed to the red mist. Years of close calls and biting my tongue gone in an instant. It was a switch that went off. Maybe it was the morning vision of my mom sitting there, the stench being remembered from only a few hours ago that done it. There were no fucks given, the mask of sanity slipped and every vestige of normality with it. I threw every table, all chairs displaced. It was a relief, bottled up grief out in the moment of madness mourning my former self in rage and gritted teeth.

I walk away and through the mess I raise my finger to the camera watching over everything and swivelling around in my direction. Two security guards race in, nice blokes who work the gate for the whole industrial park. They look to the tables and then to each other, they recognise me and I can see I sigh. They scratch their heads at a seen only created by a man going through an episode. They step aside cautiously, they know me, at least sort of. They’re not getting paid enough to put hand on me or get a black eye, they raise theirs and offer the door behind them. They looked sorry for me, I was ashamed by their pity.

‘Don’t touch me, I’m going.’ I said as I step through them. The second I pass I hear laughing. Marks smirk is now a wide beamed grin across his face showing teeth as dirty as the personality. He stands there with a confused manager, the same one I was interviewed with assessing the scene.

‘Well done little boy, payroll isn’t until Monday, we’ll see how losing a months pay feels, or better that a night in the cells this weekend. I bet you’re used to that though, aren’t ye?’ Said Mark slapping his hands on his thighs and turning to the manager who says something quietly that shuts him up.

I check my phone and it’s the 24th and it’s just before payroll this month. The shark was right. I’m walking out the door with all my penny jar savings for this year gone. Broken chairs, shattered glass. Broken spirit and a shattered reference.

I walk to the electric gates and usually they’d be a delay but they were opening before I got near them. They wanted me out, I wanted away and to be gone. They’ve got all the evidence they need and no point trying to contain me. I look to the company Mercedes and back to the management who fidget nervously as I look to them. They have phones to their ears. It happened so quickly I didn’t remember the journey out and towards the train station. I’ve never felt adrenaline like it, guiding my feet as if the boots weren’t even touching the tarmac. It was like walking on a cloud of cuddly tunnel rage comforting me out the industrial estate and I didn’t look back. I take my phone out and find my friend.

‘I’m open to chat mate.’ I said and I meant it.

‘What? You’ve just bombed me off.’ Said Justin sniffing down the phone as if he’s got a cold. It’s mid-summer in Birmingham and there’s only one type of snow around right now.

‘Things fucking change, don’t they?’

‘Not that quick, you sound different man, you alright?’

‘Ye, things fucking change.’ I said shouting down the phone. My mouth is dry but my palms are sweaty.

‘Odd man, I’ll head over and drop the cheese I’ve got, sound like you need to chill.’

‘I need it, my heads going to explode.’

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing man, need a joint. Make it lemon haze if you’ve got any left.’

‘You’re a fucking lemon alright, one second bitter next you’re all sweet on me. I’ve got a few wrapped up, I’ll sort you out.’

‘Cheers, I’ll be back in an hour or so.’

‘I’ll be busy doing drops for a few hours so can’t chill, I’ll drop to you about seven.’

‘Fuck sake I want a joint now man, I’ve just thrown a fucking chair at one of the shift leaders Mark the fucking shark.’

‘You’re usually the calm one how you manage that? Hold on, Mark the fucking what? This coke is getting to me thought you said Mark the fucking shark. I’ll drop one through your letterbox if you’re not in when I get there, can’t chill though. I will pop over later, I wanna hear this story.’ Said Justin laughing.

‘Shit story, absolute shitshow, might end up getting nicked. Nah man, I’ll wait mate, I’ll chill and wait until later I want to talk properly when you get here not spaced out.’ I said starting to calm down. He isn’t there but just his voice, knowing he’s there calmed me.

‘Chill out man, it’s done and a mugs job. They’re not going through the drama of police unless you hit someone, no one gives a fuck about a broken chair.’

‘Broke the glass on the window too.’

‘Still not police man, they might call but they’re not doing the paperwork when they can just take your wages and forget about it.’

‘What the fuck do you know?’

‘Plenty of convictions mate, no where near as many as I should have though.’

‘Lost a months pay.’ I shouted down the phone.

‘It’s alright man, I’ve got something for you, I’ll bring over a pizza and we’ll talk it over.’

‘Ok man.’

‘Got to go, I won’t be long. Calm down it’s a shit job.’ He said ending the call.

I didn’t look back in anger at the factory. I could see the top of the roof from the station. I could still see the shark swimming through my memories living in my head. I refused to allow the bastard to stay, I took a deep lungful of air and blew it out and away. I wouldn’t be begging for a job like this anytime soon, I knew it was over. I had a fork in the road moment, I just didn’t know then how far the path would bend. If only I knew.