Protection means different things to different people. So does love. In the Gutter, it often comes down to the same thing. If you call that coming down.
Yellow Jackets by Geoffrey Philp
  |
When
the policeman opened the cell door, Georgie was relieved from the burden of his
daughter’s memory. Her face had been so badly disfigured by the beating from
her boyfriend that Georgie couldn’t bear to have an open casket funeral. Besides
the rage at his powerlessness, Georgie didn’t want to remember her like that.
“Your
lives are over! My lawyer will fix this.”
Georgie
recognized Norman’s voice. Georgie had been Norman’s gardener at his home in
Mandeville until Norman fired him for being “fresh” with Melissa, his stepdaughter,
who, after her mother ran away to Miami, had changed into a sullen teenager.
Norman
hadn’t even given Georgie a chance to explain why he had been hugging Melissa.
Georgie tried to tell Norman that he had been protecting her from wasps when
she tried to pick a mango from their neighbor’s tree. Georgie’s back was still pockmarked
from their stings.
“But
sir, I would never do anything to hurt Melissa. Before her mother left, I
promise I would protect her.”
“Protect
her? Take your ass out of my yard before I call the police.”
But
now, Norman was in the lockup with Georgie, who had been arrested for weed just
before he had found his daughter’s boyfriend.
“Cool
down, boss. You’re here because you hit the sergeant. We aren’t arresting you because
your daughter claims you’ve been raping her for years and now before her wedding
ceremony,” said the policeman and walked away.
“Stepdaughter!”
Georgie
rolled over on his side and looked over at Norman.
“Mr.
Alexander?”
“Who
are you?”
“I
use to cut your grass.”
“You
know how many people used to cut my grass? Why should I remember you?”
“When
I am done with you, you going hope you can remember anything.”
