Nympho
- 2 years ago
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RedemptionChapter 6 free porn video
cabin tents rented for $25 a day summer.$30 a night winter rate
trailer rentals: larger $75 mid size $60 small $50
John Boyd 28yrs old
Gabby Boyd 25 yrs old.
Alice Boyd current owner of the Gatehouse
Edwardo world famous catfish chef (according to mom)
Joy and Jen wait staff for Alice Boyd’s catering
Jasper Amos hunter, guide, knife make
Sylvia Amos sheriff’s detective lieutenant
Deputy Angie Davenport
Marion Davenport Angie’s mom
Clyde Summers suicide victim
Edward Gaines suicide victim while serving time with John
Max Bork Gabby’s fancy man
Willow computer geek
Martin cameraman
Vanessa producer
”Mr Boyd, you have been a model parolee. You report on time and you have kept a job. You have not been in any trouble in the last eighteen months. At the half way point I have to make a recommendation. I’m going to recommend that your parole be terminated, and you be free to live your life. I’m also going to recommend that your civil rights be restored completely,” my caseworker suggested.
”It will be nice not to have to drive all the way to Jackson once a month,” I said. “Not that our visit isn’t nice and all that.”
”I appreciate the kind words, even if I recognize that they are self serving,” she said.
”Aw I mean it,” I said. It was kind of true. She was a lot easier to look at than the six foot two inch two hundred and fifty pound black man who had previously been my parole officer.
I left her office wondering how it would be to move from parolee to true ex-con status. Even with my civil rights restored, they wouldn’t expunge my record. The shit I did was going to follow me forever as it should. I played a part in the murder of a friend. I hadn’t known it was going to happen and I was out cold when it did happen, but I still shared in the responsibility for the act itself.
Menendez had said that I wasn’t ruthless enough for the heavy drug trade and he was right. That is part of why I did my time without objection. I deserved to be inside. I even needed the time to find myself. My life had always been too easy. Everything I needed handed to me on a plastic platter. In the joint, if you caught a cold and didn’t feel like eating, you went hungry. There was no mom to make you chicken soup.
All those thoughts ran through my mind as I drove home from Jackson. I had made my run of the line before I visited the parole officer, so I just had to skin and fillet the morning’s catch. I had also cleaned the cabins so I only needed to clean the catfish before I needed to run the line again. I had an hour or so to kill.
I had showered before my drive to Jackson, but I was pretty sure that I still smelled of catfish. That was probably the reason the parole officer chose to terminate me. It really wasn’t the real reason, but it might have had some influence on her decision.
I spent the hour in reflection. I had finished a hell of a busy boar season. The Country Channel ran a three part documentary on the explosion of the wild boar population. It covered a different aspect every week. One of the weeks was on the control via an open hunting seasons. During the season that they filmed the year before, Jasper Amos our local boar guide was followed around. Jasper mentioned the cabin/tent camp where his clients stayed. The Country Channel even showed some footage of people at the campground.
Mom had given her permission to film, but I really paid no attention to it. They were in and out in a couple of hours. It was during my first year running the campground, so it made no real impression on me.
Reservations picked up after the show ran. Several people mentioned it when they booked their stay. Those people booked through Jasper’s website. Jasper’s site was linked to mine just as mine carried a link to his site. Keith’s campground had always benefited from the relationship he had forged with Jasper. Not only monetarily, but I got more boar sausage than I could possibly eat.
The small freezer Keith started out using was the place of choice for storing wild boar sausage. When it was full, all the friends of the catering business, and the camp ground got a couple of pounds. It always came with the admonition to cook the pure hell out of it.
I fell into my old routine with only one exception, I had more units to clean. With that reality came more time spent in the campground, which meant less time on the catfish line. I honestly didn’t mind emptying the trash and sweeping the cabins, but the I really wasn’t very good at deep cleaning. I decided that I at least needed someone to scrub the cabin’s sinks, and clean both sides of the communal bathhouse.
I put the word out that I needed someone half a day two days a week. I didn’t expect anyone to apply to be honest. The word went out to our family and friends first. After a week I hadn’t heard from anyone. I was ready to give up when on a Wednesday, I was on the river running the line, I got a call.
”Mr. John, this is Joy, Edwardo’s daughter,” she said.
”Of course is everything alright?” I asked because you just never knew with the immigrant families.
”Yes, I am calling about your job. Popi mentioned it to me at dinner last night. I told him I was interested in an after school job. He had to talk it over with mother. They finally said it was alright to call you,” she said.
”I know you Joy, and that you are a good worker. I just don’t have a lot of work for you. It is also not very pleasant working conditions,” I explained.
I went on to explain it would only be a couple of hours three times a week. I also promised her ten dollars an hour.
”I know it isn’t much but it’s the most I can afford,” I said. “So talk it over with your dad to see if it is satisfactory first.”
”He is right here,” she said and put him on the phone before I could object.
”You promise she will not get into trouble with your guests?” he asked.
”I certainly hope not, and if I find out someone gave her a hard time, I will personally put a stop to it,” I promised. That was the beginning of Joy’s becoming a necessary part of the campground. During the summer months I ran the line twice a day and concentrated on filling the freezers. Joy came any three days she wanted as long as they were at least two days apart. She usually worked at least one day a week in mom’s catering business.
She and her sister Jen were valued employees to mom. Mom also sent as much work the girl’s way as possible. She recommended them anytime anyone needed casual labor. If a friend of mom’s went into the hospital, one of the girls was apt to do companion duty when mom’s friend returned home. The girl stayed with the old lady while she got her strength back. To say mom send the girls was the best recommendation of all. Soon the girls were busy as hell.
I allowed Joy to send Jen when she had other things to do. I also allowed them to set their own schedules. Just as long as it was no less than two days between visits.
When one of the Country Channel producers just showed up out of the blue, the summer season was in full swing. He actually waited in his car for me to show up. When I pulled the rusty old truck, and the kayak trailer into the yard of the Circus Tent, he was there waiting.
”Mr Boyd,” he said.
”Yes can I help you?” I asked guardedly.
”God I hope so,” he said. “I’m from the Country Channel. Last year we filmed a segment in your campground. Actually in one of your cabin/tents. I think that’s what you call them.”
”It’s what they are. Is there some point to this?” I asked.
”Yes sir there is. We are hoping to follow you around and film a typical day here during the off season. We need some background for the shows. You know you on the river with the catfish. We could even do a few interviews with you about what you do,” he suggested.
”What is it worth to you?” I asked. I had absolutely no intention of letting him upset my schedule without paying for it.
”Well this isn’t really for a show so it’s kind of just filler,” he said.
”Not what I asked, what’s it worth,” I repeated.
”How about a hundred a day,” he suggested.
”No thanks,” I said. “I’ll take three hundred a day with no contract. If you want more than two days we can negotiate.”
”Done, I can have a camera crew here at 10AM tomorrow,” he informed me.
”Okay but I’ll be running my line no later than 8AM,” I said. “They can wait until I get back to begin, if you want. Otherwise they need to be here and ready to go by 7:30 AM.”
I took a long cleansing shower complete with lemon juice and bleach. It wasn’t just for the cameras but I admit that they were part of the reason for the cleaning shower. I didn’t want to stink of catfish on the first day.
When I went to bed I had a problem falling asleep. I couldn’t make my mind shut down. I couldn’t even slip it into neutral. I was completely fixated on the film crew. After what seemed like hours, I must have fallen asleep. I awoke with the sun beginning to lighten the sky. I fought my way into reality. I did my morning things including making coffee. I sat on the covered deck front in of The Gatehouse with a cup in hand while I waited the crew.
When I finished that cup, I went to the Circus Tent to attach my trailer for the trip up river. I was inside the truck with my thermos of coffee when the Land Rover pulled into the yard of The Gatehouse. I pulled up close and blew my horn.
”Hi, I’m Martin,” the single guy said. “The boss said you had a kayak for me.”
”Sure it’s laying beside the big green tent back there. Get it and I’ll make room on the trailer for it,” I said.
Marty was a truly skinny guy. He was either an addict, or he enjoy starving himself and running. It was one of those or something like them. He was foolish at best. Even in my worst drug using days, never looked that bad. Of course my drug usage was purely recreational. Just at a party now and then. I sold a lot of recreational drugs to a lot of bar type users.
He could still be an addict and a camera man. There was always a period when an addict could function, then after a while they became a helpless slave to the addiction. If Martin was an addict he was between worlds. Since I didn’t care to judge, and had no interest in helping, I decided he was an exercise and diet addict.
By the time I figured out how I felt, and my next course of action, Martin was back with a green kayak. The green color was blemished by a large black patch. The result of me dragging it up the rough concrete ramp. It never leaked but the patch was to prevent a future leak.
”How about I take the Land Rover and stop for coffee?” he asked.
”Sorry there is no place to stop. The trip up river will only take a couple of hours. If you can’t wait that long for your latte, you can go find one and meet me back here later,” I suggested.
”I’ll survive,” he said getting into the truck. He had a large black canvas backpack with him.
The drive to the access ramp took only a few minutes longer than it would have had I not been pulling the overweight trailer. Still it took only twelve minutes. When we arrived there, I couldn’t back the truck and trailer down the ramp. I usually did that to submerge the trailer and float the kayak off. I could not do that as they were tied on their sides on to the trailer. They would have just sunk.
We had to park close and hand carry them to the launch site. Then slip them into the water. We could guide them to the small pier and tie the first one up while we launched the kayak with the black patch. After another five minutes in which we loaded my bait, and his camera bag, we were ready to go.
That is when I found out Martin didn’t load a paddle. To be honest I already knew he hadn’t loaded one. It would be a good lesson for him, I thought. Ask if you don’t know everything, which most folks never do. They think they know until their stupidity bites them on the ass.
In Martin’s case he just had to suffer with my nasty look. I broke my paddle down into its two halves and gave him one. It would be awkward, but it wouldn’t really add much time to the trip. I led the way as I paddled to the first limb where I had attached a yellow ribbon of cloth. It was my marker for the beginning of my line.
From there I paddled into every bush and tree limb that held a hook. The strings holding them were made of white cotton line, so they were noticeable even if there was no movement. If there was a fish on and it were still alive there would be noticeable movement.
Running to every limb hook and removing any fish on it, or re-baiting any empty hook took about two hours. The trip to and from the public access added a half hour to the chore. It was a little after ten thirty when we arrive back at the Circus Tent storage building. I dumped the trailer and the five gallon paint bucket half full of fish. Martin stayed and filmed me until I had a couple of them filleted.
”I have got to have coffee,” he said.
”Sure, there is a McDonald’s back where you got off the highway, and Crossroads Diner on the way there,” I said. “The diner only has truck driver coffee, so you might want to go a little farther to have a McCafe moment.
”Is it just me or do you not like everyone?” he asked.
”Pretty much everyone,” I replied.
”Good,” he said.
”I also don’t trust junkies,” I added.
Oceana
- 22.02.2020
- 19
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