be a crusty old man who had spent time in the military. Taylor liked him immediately despite the fact that he was more than a little abrasive.The first thing Carson did when Taylor appeared was to hand him a plastic cup. “Bathroom’s the first door on the left down the hallway outside the door.”
Taylor looked at the cup and back at Carson. “What’s this?”
Carson chuckled. “Whiz quiz,” he replied.
Taylor looked confused.
“A urine test,” Carson explained.
“I have to piss in this cup?” Taylor asked.
Carson laughed at Taylor. “You are a novice,” he said. “This is how we’re going to check you for drugs once a week. You piss in the cup, then we send it across the street to the sheriff’s department. They check it out while you and I talk.
“If it comes back clean, we got no problem. If there’s something in it, the boys come over from the department and escort you to your new home. Kapish?”
Taylor nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Taylor stood in the bathroom looking at the cup. What if it hasn’t been long enough to get the shit worked out of my system? He thought. Then he remembered a conversation at a dealer’s house once, where a recently arrested junkie was worried about his mandatory test. The dealer had told him that meth worked itself out of the system so that it wouldn’t show up in a urine test in about 24 hours.
Taylor sighed heavily, unzipped his jeans and did his business. He then returned to Carson’s office.
“So, you’re a little rock star with a big drug problem,” Carson said as he flipped through Taylor’s file.
Taylor grinned in spite of himself. “I’ve been clean for almost two weeks.”
Carson snapped Taylor’s file shut. “That’s a good start,” he said. “And you should be proud. But don’t kid yourself. You’ve got a long way to go.”
Taylor nodded. “I know that.”
“What are you doing to stay clean?” Carson asked.
“Well, I’ve got my brother living with me, and I go to N.A. at least once a day. Sometimes twice.”
Carson nodded. “Good.”
Taylor watched as Carson shuffled a stack of papers. “You need to start logging your community service time,” he said. “You’ve been assigned to Ferndale Woods.”
Taylor looked thoughtful. “The old folks’ home?”
Carson shook his head. “That’s not the politically correct term,” he admonished. “It’s an assisted living community.”
“Okay,” Taylor said slowly. “What will I do there?”
Carson chuckled. “Whatever they tell you to do,” he said. “And you’ll like it, because believe you me, whatever it is, it’s going to be better than being a prom date for some guy named Bubba in the pen.”
After his session with his probation officer, Taylor called Zac to let him know he was starting his community service that afternoon. He then hopped in his black Jeep and headed to Ferndale Woods.
Taylor found a parking spot and made his way to the office. He looked at the business card Carson had given him. The director was a guy named Rory Benham.
Taylor approached the front desk, where a woman who didn’t look much older than he was sat filling out some sort of paperwork. Taylor sized her up quickly. She had long, smooth strawberry blonde hair and pale skin. She looked to be of an average build, and she had kind, brown eyes. She was wearing a long, flowing jumper with a flower print on it.
Taylor cleared his throat, and the woman looked up at him. “Yes?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Rory Benham,” Taylor said. “Is he in?”
The woman gave Taylor a look. “He doesn’t exist,” she said. “I’m Rory Benham.”
Taylor turned red under his already rosy complexion. “I’m sorry,” he said.
The woman waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I get that all the time. What can I help you with?”
“I’m Taylor Hanson,” he said.
Rory nodded. “Ah,” she said. “The addict who’s coming here to pay his debt to society.”
Taylor was almost offended. “I’m recovering,” he informed Rory.
Another girl appeared. “I’m back from lunch, Rory.”
Rory gathered a stack of papers. “Let’s go in my office and talk,” she suggested to Taylor.
Rory and Taylor walked down a hallway. Rory motioned Taylor into her office.
“Have a seat,” she offered.
Taylor sat in a brown leather chair in front of Rory’s metal desk. Rory sat behind her desk, folded her hands and looked hard at Taylor.
“Shall I cut right to the chase?” she asked.
Taylor nodded. “Please.”
“I know who you are,” Rory said. “And I don’t want you to think you’ll be getting any special treatment. This is my career, and the people who live here are very, very important to me. The second you pull any crap that I feel would put any of them in jeopardy, I’ll report you to your P.O. so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
Taylor couldn’t believe how quickly he had decided to dislike Rory. “I would never ask for special treatment,” he spat. “And what kind of a moron do you think I am? If I screw up, I’m going to jail for two years. Believe me, I take all of this very, very seriously.”
Rory narrowed her brown eyes at Taylor. “You’d better,” she said. “These people don’t give a shit about your records or your posters. They have no idea who you are. You’re nobody here. Remember that.”
Taylor could feel the anger rising in him. Funny thing was, it had been so long since he had felt any emotion besides fear he was almost glad for it.
“Everyone is someone,” he said. “And you may be surprised. I may be the best thing to happen to this place in a long time.”
Rory flipped her long hair back over her shoulder. “Ever emptied a bedpan?” she asked.
“No,” Taylor said, locking gazes with Rory and refusing to allow her to look away. “But I love a new challenge.”
Rory gave Taylor a hard look. “Welcome to Ferndale Woods, Taylor.”
Taylor nodded slowly. “I hope it will be as much fun for you as it’s going to be for me.”
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