Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Fret ❯ Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 

He woke up with a cold, wet start. In the midst of a morning fog, he forgot where he was and stood up jerkily. Finally realizing where he was, he made his way to the shower.

He ducked into the volley of water, stinging his neck and back with a round of icy beebees. He stepped out and towelled his messily cut hair roughly. Walking into his room again, he courageously plunged his hand into a drawer, searching for any two socks he could find, a pair of underwear, and a tie. After this quest was successful, he stared at his closet for six minutes. Finally, a pair of dark jeans worn thin, an ivory thermal, and a collared black over shirt were selected. He tied his tie expertly and then ran his fingers through his dark locks once more, as a futile attempt to create a tousled neat look.

As he was closing his front door, he spotted a dark red paper taped onto it. Thinking it must have been there from last night, he peeled the tape up and read the flyer aloud to himself.

“Dear Mrs. Weslinger, due to your failure to pay the last two bills we have sent you, we will proceed to turn off all electricity from your house unless the full payment is received in two weeks or less. Thank you for your time.” Blankly he continued to gaze at the paper, trying with every fiber of his mind to develop psychic powers and rip the note to infinitesimal shreds without having to move. Because as much as he wanted to rip he paper apart with his hands, if he moved, he might not be able to control himself after that.

 

His mother, who had disappeared for two months ago to see family in Canada had left him there with two hundred dollars and no return date. Ecstatic, he saved most of it, but used fifty dollars to buy a new set of strings and a portable amp. Two weeks later, a house payment bill came. Typed in fat, bold black print was the grand claim of $276.00. After receiving a warning letter two weeks later, he delved into his personal stash and paid the entire bill. The day after he sent the payment, he received new mail. The water bill, the garbage bill, and the electric bill all sat maliciously in his entryway. He himself only had one hundred and thirty dollars left in his stash, and all three bills added up to a grand total of one hundred and eighty dollars. He paid the electricity and the water bill, resolving to throw things away at school and recycle as much as possible.

At school, Mel bought him lunch and they discussed things he could do.

“Maybe you could get a job. A waiter, at a fast food place, or something. You're really good at swimming, maybe a lifeguard? I hear from my friend that they can get paid fourteen dollars and hour. And of course there is always the classic busker move on a sidewalk,” she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows as she pondered his options. The twins vigorously nodded their heads in unaware synchronization, leaving Josh with a few options and a leaden feeling in his stomach.

Josh applied to the local pool and got lifeguard hours from 3:30 pm until 6:00 pm Wednesdays thru Fridays. His pay on Friday was about a hundred dollars, which he greatly appreciated. That weekend, he settled down in a familiar square. The first trip out, he make forty-seven dollars playing steadily for three hours. He grabbed a teriyaki chicken bowl from Yung Lee's Bowls and a bottle of Sparkletts, then set up and started busking again. By another four hours, he had gotten fifty dollars and was cheerily walking home when he saw a nearby busker stopped by a policeman. Curiously, he crept closer and listened to their conversation.

“Sir, may I please see your license to be playing here?” the policeman asked with a threatening tone in his voice.

“It's here somewhere,” the man weakly smiled as he fumbled through his backpack halfheartedly. When his search came to no avail, he held up his hands and his face took on a scared sheepish expression.

“What's your name sir?” the policeman asked sternly.

“Finn MacGregor,” the man told him, suddenly distinctly downcast.

The policeman fiddled with a phone for a few seconds, and then grimly faced the busker. “Mr. MacGregor, this is your second offense of busking without a license. You have been fined $200. You are required to apply and receive a license to play in these subways. We expect your payment within the next week. If we catch you again, you will not be fined but be placed in jail with a month term. Good day.”

Finn looked away and counted out a wad of money from his front right pocket. “Here, take it,” he exclaimed huffily, thrusting the wad of money into the police officer's hand. The official counted out the two hundred and then nodded, walking away.

Making a mental note, Josh solidly set in his head to avoid anyone in uniform while busking. When he told Mel about it at school, she just shrugged. “I didn't know that you needed a license. That's pretty harsh.” Which didn't solve his problem of paying his bills.