The Karma Set - Summer Spirit Novellas 4 - 6 Read online

  Choosing an open-air café, he selected a table along the edge so that the bright light shown on his arm and leg. Removing the stiff jacket, he hung it over the back of his chair and casually plopped down while wishing he were old enough to order a stiff drink.

  “Watch it,” his mother snapped angrily, “You’re gonna wrinkle that thing, an’ it was expensive.”

  “Peanuts,” he shot back, cutting his eyes up from his menu to give her a small grin.

  “Oh,” she inhaled sharply, remembering their code word for when she was behaving negatively, “Sorry, baby. Mama’s just anxious about all this,” she waved her hand at nothing in particular.

  “I know,” he agreed, laying his brightly colored card on the table and pointing at his choice, “This looks really good. I think we should try it.”

  Stretching to see over the condiments in the center of table, she nodded, “Ok, I’ll take one, but I don’ know that I can eat.”

  “I know,” he agreed, looking around for the waiter who had gone to get their drinks. “Relax, ok? The hard part’s behind us; the judge has heard everything, and all we do now is find out what th’ sentence is gonna be. Then I’m off for a bit, but I don’ want you t’ worry -”

  “Not yet,” she held up her hand to cut him off. “Don’ say anything until we’ve heard the sentence.”

  Nodding a reluctant agreement, he scanned the street next to them, his mind drifting to the dream he had recently had; one from his time on the other side. He and Clarisse had been popping around the world, and had sat at a table much like that one, only it had been in New York and the day had not been nearly as cheerful.

  “It’s all gonna work out, mom,” he reassured her absently. He wished that his best friend could be there to make sure of that, but he knew she was still in time out, where Keeper had placed her. At least he figured as much, since she had not contacted him to let him know any different. Of course, that meant the Dark Angel wasn’t around either, so it could be considered a fair trade.

  Enjoying the meal, the pair discussed his classes, which had ended before the holiday. “It sure felt weird, having Christmas here where it’s not even cold,” he chuckled. “I’m glad they’re going to let me come back whenever I get out, so I won’t lose my place.”

  “Yeah,” she quickly agreed, “But I’m still hopin’ you’ll be able t’ have those long distance classes like your advisor suggested.”

  Charlie nodded, glad she seemed calmer, “If I’m housed in the right prison, it’ll happen, but if it don’t, we’ll manage.” He knew dark times lay in his future, and the prospect of earning his degree while behind bars both gave him hope and tore him apart at the same time. However, her wellbeing had become his greatest fear, even if it wasn’t the time to discuss it. “I’m glad I took this semester off, either way; I’ll get back on track when I can,” he consoled. Leaning back in his chair, he pushed his plate away to stretch. “Man, that was good stuff.”

  “Yeah,” Beth agreed, swirling her unfinished portion around with her fork. She knew there were things they needed to talk about; important things, and time was running out. However, she couldn’t bring herself to face them; soon their apartment would be empty. She still had her new job, and could support herself without dipping into the money they had saved after all their expenses from the move, so that wasn’t the problem.

  The problem would be having to let him go so soon after they had finally found peace between them. Putting her fork down, she wiped her lips and lay the linen napkin across the plate. She didn’t dare speak the words, but she knew her life was about to change in less than an hour, and she would again lose someone very dear to her.

  Paying their bill, the pair walked hand in hand towards the courthouse. Their pace almost leisurely, Charlie wondered how his life might have been different if they had set aside their differences long ago. She is my mother, after all. Her attitude qualified as poor while he was growing up, but still, he could not blame her entirely for the rift that had formed between them.

  Through the years, the boy had done things to irritate her, almost taking pleasure in seeing her face grow red when she went into one of her tirades; and she wasn’t the only one. I guess I really wasn’t that great of a person; even if Brent picked on me, I didn’t make friends because I didn’t really want to. He had reached the point of realizing he couldn’t blame others for all the bad in his life.

  And now Karma’s come to get me, he chuckled, recalling that everyone gets what’s coming to them in the end. The thought of Karma sent his mind leaping to Phillip Parson, the stranger who had hitched a ride with the pair when they were outside Phoenix. The Forgotten Angel.

  Phil had warned Charlie to stay on Karma’s good side; “she’s a real bitch,” he had declared in parting. He had also warned him about telling his mother too much and poisoning her life. That’s one piece of advice Charlie had taken to heart, and he had never said anything further to her about Clarisse, Gous, angels, or anything of the like.

  Also, he had taken great care to ensure he never used his power in the presence of another person; period. People weren’t supposed to see magic, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  When everything turned out so badly, with Clarisse and Gous locked up by Keeper, he had hoped he would earn a few points on the positive side by living well and taking care of his mother. I guess Karma’s got a long memory, he sighed to himself, reflecting on his current situation.

  Making their way through security, they rode the elevator to the third floor, arriving with ten minutes to spare. “There you are!” Ken called as soon as they stepped out of the shiny metal doors. “Breaks over; the judge is ready to give his decision,” he urged them towards the courtroom, where the bailiff closed the doors behind them.

  “What? He’s early,” Beth tried to argue, but found herself brushed aside when they reached the short wall and gate that divided the room.

  Feeling flustered, Charlie’s face took on a bright pink hue as he was ushered to his seat at the table in front. While shuffling down the aisle, he had seen that the number of observers had nearly doubled. His gaze briefly meeting that of Ms. Kapoor, his heart raced at her cool stare. This is no time for pretty girls, he grimaced, sliding into his chair only to stand again as instructed by the bailiff.

  Glancing over his shoulder at the crowd behind him, Charlie longed to reach for his mother; to hold her hand and comfort her as judgment was passed. Resuming their seated positions, the room remained quiet as they waited for Judge Arnold to read his decision.

  Looking over the top of his reading glasses, the court official shuffled the pages before him for a moment, then said in a stern voice, “Charles Phillips, please stand.”

  Obediently on his feet, with his attorney at his side, Charlie waited. His breath lightly passing over his lips, he silently begged, dear God, just read the damn thing already.

  “Charles Andrew Phillips, you have entered a plea of guilty to involuntary manslaughter in the death of Fredrick Albert Shoemaker, in what can only be categorized as a form of vigilante justice. I am appalled at what I saw in the video that was taken of you committing an act that could easily have been deemed as murder,” he growled, causing a whisper of amen to flutter through the crowd.

  “However, you are not on trial here today,” the judge bellowed. “Instead, you have accepted responsibility for this boy’s death. Some, namely your attorney, Mr. Carter, contend that you aren’t much more than a boy yourself, and although your actions were stupid to say the least, that you should be allowed to pay penance for your mistakes, and then to go on and live your life in peace.”

  A more disgruntled mummer rippled through the rows of observers, and the judge paused, giving them a stern stare before he continued to speak. “I realize that my decision will not be popular with everyone; rulings seldom are, as there are always two sides to every story. However, it is my decision that rather than have you sit on your rear in a prison, you will instead be remanded to the c
ustody of a rehabilitation project for two years of community service.”

  The room erupted into a frenzy, and Charlie could see that the victim’s mother was on her feet, screaming, “That’s not fair!” from the corner of his eye. Swallowing hard and not daring to look away, he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the man behind the bench.

  Applying his mallet to a small wooden block, the judge called for everyone to sit and be quiet. “I will clear this room,” he shouted and waited for the racket to subside. When the viewers had taken their seats, he concluded, “This is no slap on the wrist that you have received. You will remain on the facility grounds for the duration of your sentence. You will only leave to conduct work to be determined by the facility management. You will be granted one two-hour visit by family members per month. You will be granted two hours of phone time per week; a privilege that can be revoked for non-cooperation with community directives. You will perform two hundred and fifty clock hours of community service, and attend another two hundred and fifty clock hours of therapy sessions as determined by your counselor.”

  Inhaling deeply, the judge paused, then said in a calmer tone, “If you fail to complete your time in either of those capacities, or if your counselor informs me that you are non-compliant in your sentence at any time, you will be remanded into the custody of the State of California for a term of five years in a penitentiary, without the possibility of parole.”

  Standing abruptly, the judge left his seat and headed for his chambers while the room once again echoed with angry voices.

  Not Really Goodbye

  “What the hell does that mean?” Charlie exploded, still staring at the door the judge had used as an exit.

  “It means, we worked out a deal,” Ken grinned, shaking Charlie’s hand.

  “A deal?” the younger man’s voice grew louder as he yanked his arm free. Glancing at his mother, he could see she appeared too stunned to speak. “Five years? That don’ sound like a deal to me!”

  “Relax, Charlie,” Ken leaned closer, “You only do five years if you don’t complete the community service. And the judge didn’t really explain it very well, but you actually have two years to complete the program. If you work hard, you could actually go home in less.”

  “Go home in less,” Charlie nodded his head around in an exaggerated fashion, “And what th’ hell is mom supposed t’ do while I’m gone? You said I would get a year, Ken!”

  “I know what I said,” the attorney straightened his tie, turning to watch as the last of the court observers were shown out of the room. Thankful for the silence around them, he exhaled loudly in frustration, “It’s hard to tell what a judge is going to do some times. They get it in their head that they need to really punish people; you know, like a judge,” he taunted.

  “So that’s what you guys worked out in your little meeting?” Charlie pulled off the stuffy jacket and tossed it over the table.

  “Yes, more or less. When we got in the judge’s chamber, he had already decided he was going to give you the five years. But, Ms. Kapoor wanted you for their new program; she says you’ll be perfect,” Ken smiled encouragingly.

  Beth, who had been waiting for the right moment to jump into the conversation decided the time had come, “You mean that girl in th’ red dress? She’s the one runnin’ th’ community service?”

  “Yes, Bethany,” the attorney faced her to make another appeal. “I swear to you, this is a good thing. It’s easy; it’s safe. Not like prison, where bad things could have happened to Charlie, especially having to be there for five years.”

  “Uh-huh,” she looked unconvinced, her hands on her hips.

  Pushing her to understand, he continued, “And we can get his college to do online classes for him. Ms. Kapoor said the program is all about improving their lives and turning them around; getting an education is encouraged.”

  Pursing his lips, Charlie studied the man they had trusted, wondering if they had made a mistake. Of course it’s too late now, he mentally conceded. “When do I go?” he demanded tartly.

  “Tomorrow,” Ken leaned his rear on their table and relaxed a bit. “Ms. Kapoor will pick you up at my office at eight-thirty, so you get to spend the evening with your mom. Pack everything you’re going to need in a few suitcases or boxes, or whatever, but I wouldn’t take too much.”

  “Everything I need,” Charlie nodded again as if his head might roll off his shoulders at any moment, “For two whole years.”

  “Hey, don’t think of it that way,” Ken frowned, “You get to go home when you’re done; so get in there, find out what you have to do, and don’t let up until it’s all finished.”

  Picking up his jacket, Charlie turned to Beth, looking down into her wide brown eyes. He could see the sadness, as well as how she fought the tears. She had taken the news better than he thought she would after the way she had carried on beforehand; I guess it really is worse not knowing.

  “It’ll be ok, baby,” she leaned against him, pulling him into a firm squeeze. “The judge said I get t’ visit once a month, an’ that means you’re gonna be close by. An’ we get t’ talk on th’ phone every week, so this two years is gonna fly by!”

  Her positive attitude sounded odd, and Charlie had his doubts, but the argument was moot. Guiding her towards the door, he at least hoped that the angry mob had moved on and they could exit the courthouse in peace. Finding the corridor outside empty, the pair made their way to the elevator and out of the building unscathed.

  Arriving home that afternoon, their tiny apartment only served as a sad reminder of what lay ahead. Opening the front door, Charlie carried a couple of boxes they had picked up from the back of the grocery down the street under his arm. “I’m really not gonna take much,” he informed his mother as he dropped them on the floor and went to search for the roll of tape in the junk drawer.

  “Take what you need t’ be comfortable,” Beth replied sadly, moving to his bedroom door and switching on the light in an effort to brighten her mood. Starting with the dresser, she pulled out a few items and lay them on the bed. “I’m really gonna miss you,” she sniffed when he joined her with the assembled boxes.

  “I know,” he set down the cartons and took her in his arms. “I’m really sad t’ be goin’, but we need t’ get this behind us. I guess two years is damn sure better than five, so I’m gonna suck it up an’ get this done. And Ken’s right; it beats actual prison.” Laying his head against the top of hers, he sighed. “This isn’t really goodbye, mom. We’re gonna keep in touch; I had an idea about that, too.”

  Pulling away, she stepped back and wiped away her tears, forcing a brave smile, “Ok, how’re we gonna do it?”

  “I’ve got my email, and you’ve got yours,” he grinned. “We’ll use that way, and if I’m allowed my Facebook, we can message each other, too. Save th’ phone calls for really important stuff, where a message just won’t do.” Cocking his head, he silently wondered for a moment how they were going to prevent him from using his cell phone, but didn’t bother to mention it; I’m sure they’ve some way of controlling it, or they wouldn’t have mentioned it.

  Nodding, Beth smiled up at him before she began opening more drawers to help him pack. “I think you should take a good variety o’ clothes, an’ all o’ your socks an’ underwear. Since we don’ really know where you’re goin’, who knows what th’ weather’ll be like,” she said more crisply to raise their spirits.

  “True,” he agreed, arranging the items into his cartons. “Are you gonna have enough money without my income while I’m gone?” he asked, realizing he needed to inform his boss at the shoe store that he would not be back, indefinitely. “I need to call the shop and tell them I quit,” he mumbled aloud.

  “I’ll be fine, baby,” she sniffed again, still smiling, “My job pays pretty decent, an’ I should be able t’ make it without dippin’ into th’ savin’s; an’ I’ll even put some back in it if I can.”

  “Well, you let me know if that changes,” he sighed, tossi
ng a shirt onto the floor to start a no pile, “I’m not takin’ all this stuff. I never wear some of it now, why would I wear it there?” he laughed.

  “I’ll donate them to goodwill if you don’ wan’em anymore,” she said as she sat another stack on the bed for him to sort through.

  Together, they chose a location for all of his clothing, and put what he would be keeping into the boxes or back into a single drawer, leaving the rest of them and the closet empty. Using a couple of trash bags, he gathered up the donation pile for her and carried them down to his car, placing them in the back compartment and the boxes into the back seat.

  The sun had begun to set, and he paused to stare across the road as it sank into the water. His view of it and the beach from their new home extraordinary, he muttered, damn; I hate to leave this place. It reminded him of Clarisse, the love of his life, and had become the first place he had ever really felt at home.

  Trudging back inside, he shook the key fob at her and grinned deviously, “Take good care o’ my baby while I’m gone.”

  “Oh, your gonna trust me with your car?” she shot back while starting dinner.

  “Yeah, I’m not gonna need it, apparently. But I would like a ride t’ Ken’s office before you go in t’ work,” he informed her as he dialed his own employer to resign.

  Not bothering to reply, Beth turned her back and fidgeted with the meal, hiding her tears as they dripping onto her blouse. Letting him go would be hard enough without making a big deal about it, after all.

  Highway to Nowhere

  “Good morning, Charlie,” Ken called, taking the box from him when he lifted it out of the back seat. “Here, let me get that, and you can get the other one. Good morning, Beth,” he nodded across the roof as she exited the vehicle.