In the middle of one particularly blue riff, the phone rings. Mid-laugh, I answer and hear my friend Renee's voice on the other end. My humor died swi...tly as her sobbing gained all my attention.After she calmed down enough to speak properly, I found out she had been fired from her job just moments before. Knowing she was good at her job, it came as a shock to the both of us. The poor girl was devastated that her position was terminated and started to panic that she suddenly had to search for. And Mark didn't feel comfortable when he sat in the living room with the other housemates while they smoked dope, snorted lines and watched moronic quiz shows. After having lived as a husband and father for so long, he hated having to share a house. The only retreat his bedroom afforded him was when he pushed his ear-plugs as deep into his ears as he could and pulled a duvet over his shoulders to keep out the draught that whistled through the poorly-fitting windows.Mark soon found that Salma's. Inside was a store with glass cases full of metal rings and chains. Inthe middle were racks of leather clothes, and along the back were shelveswith rows and rows of what looked like little metal Christmas trees ofdifferent sizes.Her sister Prissy was leaning into a man at one end of the counter. Hewas bald, and skinny, wearing heaving black combat boots, leather pants,a white t-shirt and a leather vest. His arms were covered in tattoos thatseemed to be of dozens of muscular men bound. But Abby had spent a lifetime listening to that logical side of herself. Being everyone else’s ideal of the good girl. She had been the perfect student. All ‘A’s’ of course. She had gone to the best college and yet again out-performed most of her peers. She had even dated the ‘right’ man, from the best family. And when Nana needed her, she had given up her job and apartment to come rushing home. She had lived her twenty-six years…all of her life so far…to please others. Jackson Greywolf was.
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