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He sounds really sincere and a little bit desperate. I decide I’ll find him something to do. He’s never been much of a blue-collar guy, and in fact, was about to go back to school to become an actual sports medicine doctor and not just do physical therapy and kinesiology before he got locked up. He could probably help Lisa in HR doing paperwork, that seems easy enough. Scheduling interviews and such.
“I’m sure we can find something for you. I have a janitorial service for the stuff you mentioned, but we have other jobs. I’ll fit you in, man.”
“Oh, shit, Carter. That would be so amazing! Could you email me the name, address, and phone number of your company so I can give it to my caseworker?”
“Sure, but is someone going to be coming by the job to make sure it’s legit or something?” I ask, concerned.
“Nah, the parole officer will come by the house to make sure it’s fit for me to live in, but not the job. I think the caseworker Googles employers and shit.”
I relax. Not that I have anything to hide, but it’s something I don’t need. It would out Eric as a felon and it is none of the other employees’ business to know that once he gets hired. I wouldn’t want him being treated any differently.
The phone beeps loudly.
“Fuck, that’s my one-minute warning. I’ll be looking for your email,” Eric says.
“Sure, it won’t be until Monday when I get to work, though, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, yeah, no problem at all. I better go.”
“Okay, good talkin’ to you,” I say sincerely.
There’s a pause so I’m about to end the call when I hear, “Carter?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Ride or die, bud.”
He chuckles and hangs up.
“Why are you all smiley?” Declan asks, approaching me holding a small paper bag.
“That was my friend Eric.”
“The guy in prison?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “He’s a lifelong friend who made a terrible mistake. He gets out in like ten months and needs a job.”
“Yeah? What can he do?” Declan asks.
I pocket the phone and leave the gallery, waving an apology to the old guy who’d been side-eyeing me the whole time I was on the phone.
“He’s got a sports medicine degree. Was doing therapy and shit for one of the minor league teams around here,” I answer as we head back into the street to peruse the booths once more.
“Hell, we’re always looking for therapists, especially if they specialize in sports medicine,” Declan says, stopping in front of a food truck that sells carnival-type snacks.
“Oh, my God. I’m so dumb. I should have told him I’d talk to you.” I shake my head.
He chuckles. “I’m only the assistant hospital administrator for CU Health for the entire Denver Metro area. But, hey. I’m used to being chopped liver with you.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing. “But... can you guys hire convicted felons?” I look around and lower my voice. “Eric killed a woman, Dec. Not on purpose, but she’s dead nonetheless.”
He chews his lip. “Yeah, that could be tricky. If it was some lower-level stuff like tax evasion or something it probably wouldn’t be an issue. I do know we have some felons working in our janitorial and fluid cleanup areas in the ER. We have a program that works with the state to train and hire them. But for a bigger paying job like therapists, I’m not sure.”
“Could you get back to me on it? It’s not a big rush, he doesn’t release until, like March of next year, and I told him I’d give him a job doing something at Lockwood Tech, but medicine is where his experience is.”
I lift a shoulder. “We could go visit him if you want. You could meet him yourself.”
