We were turning north again. Around 8.30 a. m. it began raining heavily, and we stopped at a shopping centre. I followed mr Jackson around in there like a dog, watching him leafing through shirts on racks, trying out tools in a hardware store, discussing cellphones and hifi equipment and whatever with different salesmen. He didnīt talk to me at all and I was grateful he didnīt. Last night had really hit me hard. There was this beautiful dark girl flirting with me in a record shop, really making herself clear over and over again, and I barely dared looking at her. Finally she came up close, pissed off from the lack of response, and called me a _f_u_c_k_ing wimp under her breath, laughing and giggling with her friend as they left.
For the first time, I really could sense a change growing in me and I didnīt like it at all. Fear was ruling me now and the feel of my tender rear against the pants reminded me with every step. I also imagined that everybody was staring at me, knowing what Iīd been put through and what I had coming. Mr Jackson bought a cup of coffee and gestured to me to sit down with him, but I didnīt want to because the chairs were too hard, so I leaned against the wall, ashamed from knowing why I did. He fetched some water for me and two plain bagels. Eating them standing up made me feel even more strange.
Around 11 oīclock we reached our next stop. After I wrecked mr Pescoeīs car I walked until I got to a town maybe three miles and passed through an industrial area, where a guy in a pickup truck offered me a lift to the city centre. I was short of cash and very jumpy, and when he stopped to let me off I just reached out and grabbed his wallet, he had it on the dashboard, the stupid _f_u_c_k_er. He yelled and ran after me but I easily shook him off. I didnīt recognize him when he opened the door and let us in. He was younger than I remembered, maybe five years my senior, and he wore a black tee that said NO _s_h_i_t_ and black dungarees and a white pearl in his right earlobe. He had on a jumpsuit and a cap when he picked me up. His flat was a small room and a kitchenette, the better part of the room occupied by music equipment, hifi, amplifiers, four giant loudspeakers, you name it, it probably was right there, and he even had three guitars one of them a Gibson doubleneck like the one Jaymz is using in the Nothing Else Matters video, only this was white, must have cost a fortune and a keyboard. On the walls were posters of Motoerhead and Metallica and a couple of really nice pinup girls. He had CD racks practically covering the rest of the walls and a pc next to his bed, which apart from three odd chairs and a rickety table covered with stuff like coffee mugs, beer cans and smoking accessories, was all the furniture. His name was Johnny Miller and I guess Iīd have figured him a fairly cool guy if weīd met under different circumstances.
He didnīt like having mr Jackson around, either. I could tell from the way his eyes were shifting when they talked, and he barely said anything but yeah and right. He looked me straight in the face, though, curious like, and didnīt seem too hostile. I figured this visit for a quick one and I figured Johnny Miller would want it snappy, too.
I dug out his wallet from the saddle bag. Iīd used most of the money in it and one of his two credit cards twice, buying clothes and boots and a leather jacket. That was one of the highlights of my 34 h vacation, walking into those shops, trying out real clothes, choosing freely. I was back to the real me in one hour flat. One deep breath, then I handed Johnny Miller back his wallet.
"Sorry, mate", I said. "I was broke and on the run. You just happened to pick up the wrong guy."
Mr Jackson spun around and grabbed me by the arm, then he slapped me hard across my face three times, his signet ring leaving a sharply aching imprint on my right cheek bone. I felt the thick taste of blood in my mouth.
"That was one really lousy apology, Jennings", he said. "Besides, I havenīt told you to do or say anything. Now, shut the _f_u_c_k_ up and sit on that chair over there with your hands where I can see them."
Johnny Miller put his hands in his pockets and fidgeted, staring down on the floor as if heīd lost something, his belief in humanity, perhaps, and I sat down, head still spinning, ass ill at ease against the hard seat.
"Itīs allright", Johnny Miller said to the floor. "I just want my money back, thatīs all. Iīm not mad with the guy."
"Well, you should be, mr Miller. You did Jennings a favour and he returned it by robbing you. He also thinks a sorry is enough for any stunt he pulls." Mr Jackson walked past me and stopped by the keyboard, studying it for a while. Then he said: "You a musician, mr Miller?"
"Yeah, sort of", Johnny Miller said. "I play in a band. Look, mr Jackson, itīs allright with me, you coming here and getting it all sorted out. I havenīt even filed a complaint. I mean, I did wrong, too, having my wallet lying around like that. I figured the blame was partly on me. I still do."
"You play both guitar and keyboard?" Poor Johnny Miller didnīt know mr Jackson as well as I did. Mr Jackson was getting at something, one of his brilliant lectures, no doubt, and Johnny Millerīs instruments were just the means.
"Yeah, right. And the bass, too. Needed some money, though. Iīll get it back next month." Johnny Miller grinned and shrugged. "Not a cheap hobby, yīknow."
Mr Jackson touched the doubleneck, letting his fingers slide down the smooth surface. "Beautiful", he mumbled. "Bet this cost you quite a lot."
"Yeah. I still have 27 instalments to go. Never once regretted buying it. As long as Iīm paying for that and the other stuff, Iīll stay here. Itīs small, but itīs cheap."
"You work full time, then?"
"Yeah, I do. In a glazierīs shop."
"And then you play with the band or practise in your spare time, right? How many hours a week?"
Johnny Miller shrugged again. Apparently heīd never thought about it that way.
"Maybe 30 or 40 hours, I donīt know, really. When Iīm not at work, Iīm always playing."
"Takes a lot of discipline, living your way."
"Yeah, you bet." Johnny Miller grinned again. "Still, Iīm doing what I want to do. I get along allright. Wouldnīt want anything to be different right now."
"So, mr Miller, who taught you discipline?"
Johnny Miller did some thinking before he answered.
"Mum and Dad, for starters. Then my grandpa. He was a musician, too, a trumpet player. He even played with Glenn Miller a couple of times, no relation." He laughed a little. "I have all the records heīs playing on right here."
"How did they teach you discipline?" Mr Jackson didnīt give a _s_h_i_t_ about Johnny Millerīs grandpa, he was tugging along like a bullterrier.
"By letting me fight to get what I wanted. They always helped me out, but not all the way, and they were as proud as I when I finally got there. And if I wanted to quit before I did, they made me go on."
"Were you ever punished? Did your parents spank you?"
"Yeah, a couple of times. And I really deserved it then. But I guess Iīm a fast learner. Iīve never made the same mistake twice."
Mr Jackson walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Jennings does", he said. "Jennings has made the same mistakes so many times that he doesnīt even know theyīre mistakes anymore. Heīs a very slow learner. On your feet, TJ." I got up. Johnny Miller sat down on the bed, looking puzzled. He was beginning to realize that mr Jackson had no greater interest in him or his music. Mr Jackson was interested in making his point clear.
"Now, drop your pants and turn around."
I didnīt dare to object. I unbuttoned and unzipped my leather pants and pulled them down, then my jeans and thermos. With only the boxers left, I hesitated, and mr Jackson grabbed them and yanked them down for me. The shirt was covering my privates and most of my ass until mr Jackson ordered me to put my hands on my head. I saw Johnny Miller staring at us, absolutely dumbfounded, and I quickly turned my back on him.
"Holy _s_h_i_t_!" he yelled.
"Yes, nasty, isnīt it", mr Jackson said. "Still this guyīs not able to follow rules or cooperate in any ordinary way. He was never spanked as a child and he knows nothing of discipline. Itīs very trying to be around Jennings, mr Miller. Get dressed, punk." The latter he added to me, but Iīm sure Johnny Miller for a brief moment was about to put on whatever he could find lying around.
I got my clothes back on as quickly as I could, but kept my back towards Johnny Miller. I didnīt think mr Jackson was doing right, scaring the guy like that. He hadnīt done anything wrong. I didnīt see the point in this, either. To make me feel bad, OK, but what about Johnny Miller the Victim? This was kind of victimizing him, too.
"Youīre crazy _f_u_c_k_ing bastards, both of you", Johnny Miller said, and his voice did have an edge to it, but fear shone right through. "I donīt give a _s_h_i_t_ about your freaky business. I didnīt ask you to come here and talk crap and moon me. I donīt care about the money anymore, either. I just want you out of here."
"Yeah, I bet", mr Jackson said. "Thatīs the easiest way. Weīll leave very soon, but not until Jennings has apologized properly, and not until youīve accepted a check on the amount he robbed you of. Jennings is not one of your mates. You see, mr Miller, your generosity taking half the blame and trying to hush the whole thing down is as bad for you as it is for Jennings."
"Yeah, right", Johnny Miller mumbled, again defensive and a bit confused. "Well, get about it, then. I have an appointment in half an hour."
Mr Jackson brusquely turned me around by my arm so that I was facing Johnny Miller. He didnīt look at me and I didnīt blame him.
"Allright, TJ. Letīs do it properly this time." Mr Jackson still held on to my arm, and again I was scared of him, having a sick ache in my stomach.
"Mr Miller, sir", I began, feeling like a jerk addressing the guy like that, "I apologize for stealing your wallet. It was a mean thing to do, you being kind and friendly to me, sir. I just hope you wonīt come around people like me again. You donīt have to forgive me, sir, I just want to say Iīm sorry for doing this to you and that Iīll try not to do it again."
"Yeah", Johnny Miller said. "Itīs allright. Take care." He shot me a glance and I discreetly did the devil sign with my leftie. For a moment our eyes met, and he smiled slightly. I did, too, extremely cautiously. Then mr Jackson pushed me aside and went about the paper business. I took the opportunity to scan the disc racks. All of them were there the Maiden, old Black Sabbath and even Judas Priest, Pantera, Ozzy and all, and he had a nice Metallica collection, too, but nothing like mine. Just seeing it all warmed my heart a bit. This still existed, and one day Iīd be out of this, having a life of my own, like him.
Johnny Miller stretched out his hand to me when we left and repeated the take care, and I nodded and returned it. He didnīt shake hands with mr Jackson.
Back at the bike mr Jackson shot his eyes into mine for a while that felt like for ever.
"Iīm _f_u_c_k_ing sick of having you around, TJ", he said. "Youīre one unpredictable bastard." (Look whoīs talking, I thought to myself.) "Maybe youīre too rotten. You canīt build anything with rotten material."
"Permission to speak, sir?"
"Oh, it talks. Yeah, TJ, whatīs on your halfassed mind this time?"
"Sir, would you please tell me what you think is so different about me. I do my best and you just discard me all the time, sir. I donīt think Iīm that bad. If I knew how to behave, I wouldnīt have wound up here in the first place. Please, sir, I really need your help on this. Iīve one victim to go and Iīd like to handle that allright, sir."
Mr Jackson slowly shook his head.
"Some nerve, TJ. Some nerve." Then he was silent for a while. "Letīs have lunch", he finally said. "Get on the bike."
We went to a small diner beside a gas station, being the only customers. Mr Jackson had steak and fries and beer and I had the last of the rye bread and the mineral water. The seats were soft and I was able to sit down and feel fairly comfortable. The waitress smiled a lot at us. She had a nice body but was too old for my taste. I noticed she sort of stuck her breasts out for mr Jackson a couple of times, bending down to talk to him. He didnīt seem to care, though.
"OK, TJ. You asked for advice. I usually donīt give any, because you seldom learn from it. The only efficient way to learn is through experience. The odd thing about you is that one moment, youīre obedient like hell, the next youīre as defiant as ever. One moment you obey, the very next you do whatever pops up in your mind. Thereīs no real firmness in you and I doubt thereīll ever be. You act on impulse and youīre just lucky to get on the right track once in a while. Youīre a tricky bastard. My advice to you is to use your head more frequently and not rely on your emotions, because theyīve done nothing but _f_u_c_k_ed up your life. When youīre being punished, try to learn from it instead of trying to get out of it or questioning it or defending whatever you did that got you up on the rack in the first place. Use your energy to figure out how to avoid getting yourself in the same fix over and over again. You need to practise self control every minute of the day. When youīre in control, you may also let go sometimes, knowing that you can get hold of yourself any minute. This is basic training for kids, you know."
He stopped to order coffee and more water for me. The waitress wriggled her ass very cutely on her way to the coffee machine.
"Now you repeat what I said."
I tried to recall all of it.
"Sir, you said that thereīs no firmness in me and that I let my emotions rule me. You want me to think before I talk or do something, sir. You said I need to practise self control all the time."
"Thatīll do for the time being, TJ. You also wanted advice on how to handle the next victim. Youīve met with four very different victims. With the first two, you did allright. I told you so, too, remember? With the third, you just lost your head, and with mr Miller, you were back where you started in September. You also screwed up completely last night, the Conway wallet being the least of it. Now, first tell me your theory on what happened and why things turned out like they did."
I shrugged and was about to say I really donīt know, sir, then I stopped and thought about it and gave my version.
"Sir, the Conways were too much, I didnīt know what to do and you didnīt support me, sir, excuse me for saying it, but you didnīt seem to handle them, either, and I just kind of freaked out. You were very annoyed with me from start and I focused more on you than I did on the Conways. I guess I didnīt want to stick around with all the arguing and I thought you didnīt want me to be there, sir, losing ground and all. When we went back you just threw all of it on me and I still think I did my best of it, sir, at least they didnīt start yapping again. As for the wallet.........." I had to stop and think again, and I noticed it felt allright. ".....that was stupid. Real stupid. I acted on impulse, like in the car. I wouldnīt do that again, because it wonīt change anything. It wonīt change the way the Conways think and the only thing it did for me was getting my butt thrashed." Then I quickly added another "sir."
"So thatīs what you thought, eh? Now, TJ, why was I annoyed with you?"
"Like from the start, you mean, sir? I figured you regretted letting me in on a fag and a chat back at the shopping center, sir. Maybe you wanted to make clear the leash was still on."
"You donīt ever reflect on your own behaviour, do you? Except to defend yourself. I was annoyed with you because as soon as youīre given some small favour, you immediately set about to rule the world. You did it all over again today. You were punished and seemed to shape up, then at some point you apparently convinced yourself everythingīs done and over with and right out of the blue youīre about to take command again with mr Miller. Obeying is the simplest thing in the world, TJ. Just keep your mouth shut and do as youīre told. Donīt act unless youīre ordered to. You remembered that with mr Pescoe and the Simkins, and everything went well."
Mr Jackson sipped his coffee and was silent for a while. I thought heīd been very generous, allowing me this conversation though he apparently didnīt like me at all. I wanted him to like me. I didnīt know if I liked him or not. Heīd inflicted more pain on me than anyone else, but heīd also tutored me better. I had learned a lot about myself and others from him in just these couple of days. What I still didnīt understand was why he kept chewing about obedience all the time. Iīd never been as obedient as this in my whole life. Since I came to Crowmill, Iīd done _s_h_i_t_ but obeying, even though Iīd nearly croaked from the effort sometimes. He also said I was tricky. Hell, out of the Step Two guys I probably was the least tricky one. Iīm a simple guy. I mean, compared to Loonie Jordan or Robbie the Vermin or Crash Unix I was like Teletubbies to the X-files.
"Iīve read your papers, all of them. Youīre not stupid. The problem is you wonīt be locked up for the rest of your life, being instructed, being forced to follow rules. You need to use your new experience to build strategies that will work inside as well as outside of Crowmill. Remember Johnny Miller. A metalhead like you, but a steady one. He knows the balance between sacrifice and gain, and he works hard to keep it. His life has a purpose. Whatīs the purpose of your life, TJ?"
"I donīt think there is one, sir", I said, and the insight struck me right between the eyes.
"Youīre correct on that. Right now, there is no purpose. Youīll have to find one. Now, TJ, we have one stop left, then youīve fulfilled this part of your punishment. Tell me how youīll act once we get there."
"Iīll wait for you to tell me what to do, sir. Iīll keep my mouth shut unless you want me to say something. Sir, Iīm sorry I screwed it all up. I honestly didnīt mean to. Thank you for telling me all this, sir. Youīve been very generous to me. I apologize for behaving badly, sir."
"Yeah, I bet. Youīll have plenty of time practising and thinking about what youīve learned these two days when we get back. You still have 11 days left in S. C. and 3 months hard labour before youīre back on the program. Use that time wisely."
Time was really running up. This was probably the last time Iīd be sitting down like this with Russell Jackson.
"Sir, may I ask a personal question?"
"You may ask. You may not get an answer."
"Mr Jackson, sir, do you have kids of your own?"
Mr Jackson emptied his coffee cup and pushed it aside, then he got up from the couch.
"That, TJ, is none of your _f_u_c_k_ing business. Letīs go now."