Irving's Money.

When you're raised in a small town in Alabama, you spend most of your time thinking about how to get out of there, or at least I did anyway. I never played the victim, but I damn sure I could have. Life was rough growing up and I was old enough and smart enough to leave it all behind now. I would daydream constantly about it. Living a life somewhere else seemed so much more exciting than just staying put like I had for so long. I entertained every fantasy that entered my mind, always plotting and scheming. I was willing to do whatever it took.

My Granny brought me up and she did her best with what she had. She worked as many jobs as she could to support us. She was as sweet as they come but don't dare cross her, or she'd "cut ya" as she always said. I never saw her with a knife but I'm sure she had one. Probably had a pistol too. I saw her slap a lady one time at the store for running over my foot with a buggy. It was most likely an accident that the lady did it but it was pretty funny when my Granny lit her up. She made me tough as she could, and I miss her badly. She was all I had for a long time. She made sure to remind me often that there was more to life, didn't matter what you had. She knew my desire to chase dreams and she encouraged it. "It might get nasty" she'd tell me. "Don't ever let up."

And I never did.

I grinded every way I could to make things better for myself and my girl. It just never seemed to be enough. I ain't proud of a lot, but I believe that if you're willing to work for something worth having, no questions need to be asked. People talk a lot in a dump like this, believe me, there ain't shit else to do. They can say what they want to about it but it ain't none of my business. My father left this place, God rest his soul, with a lot of bad things said about him. I just try to focus on the good, because I'm sure a lot is said the same of me. I just didn't care anymore.

I'd lie, cheat and steal to leave. There's nothing for me here. My parents been gone and my Granny died years ago. I got a girl and I love her but we ain't for this place. We both been bustin' our asses to make ends meet and we ain't got shit to show for it, except for a place to sleep and my father's old truck. She's had my back for a long time, Etta Lee, and I'm very grateful for it. She's as good as they come and she deserves better too. She had a similar upbringing, maybe a little rougher, but I'll leave that part out. She's tough as nails but an angel at the same time. It's really hard to describe and I don't think I'll ever have the right words, but she's definetly something. She has her bad days as we all do, but she's there when I've had a rough day in the yards. It's hard out there but like them old timers say, "If you don't work, the man don't pay you."

So it seems appropriate that I've worked the same gig for the past twenty years, making lots of money for somone else, and little of my own. Thousands of yards I've cut and weed-eated for a man named Arlie Irving. To be honest, I did a number of other things that ain't worth mentioning, but money is money. Ole Arlie was probably one of the wealthiest men in Alabama, and he pay to have stuff done that needed to be done when no one was looking. The only reason he stayed in this shit hole is probably because he controlled most of it. He worked hard from the boot straps up, and I won't say he didn't, but he got lucky too. Seems men like Arlie always have a little luck because I'll tell you, he's really one of the stupidest sum-bitches I know.

But he had the money and he had control.

And I wanted it.

He had several businesses.

Irving's Grocery.

Irving's Bar and Grill.

Irving's Finance

And the one and only Irving's Landscaping.

The landscaping gig was mainly what I did for him and it was personal. My father started that business with ole Arlie, but as the stories are told here in this small rat's nest, it was a business That ole Arlie took from my father in a card game years ago. A few years after that, my father was gunned down in a bar. I never really knew him but I remember small things that mattered. My Granny told me a few good ones about him. I don't blame Arlie for the death of my father, but I've heard stories about that too, and I've always wondered. Between that, my mother splitting town after my dad's shooting, and the stupid card game I've always heard of, its pretty easy to say there's a grudge between ole Arlie Irving and I. My mother is another story and she should be ashamed for herself. I can't imagine what that was like, but damn, I was a kid. She just left me here.

But I did good.

A lot of pride has been swallowed working for Arlie for the past twenty years but I've studied him like a hawk, and he's been a good teacher. A man as busy as Mr. Irving needs a place to hide information. A place for secrets and reminders and what not. I saw everyday exactly where he kept it.

That little black book of his.

But ole Arlie ain't what he once was. These past few years, I've caught him slipping. Hell, I've read combinations in that black book after he left it on a table and I picked it up for him. It's like he don't care, feeling untouchable or something. He started to trust me more and more over the years. I know Ole Arlie had done some unfavorable things in his day, and I gotta tell you, it's paid off for him.

I've skilled myself in the same areas of expertise. I built myself from nothing in this small, poor hillbilly town. I've just been waiting for my chance and the luck I had created. So the next time ole Arlie left that book on a desk, un-attended to, I snatched it up and memorized the combinations I read. I wrote them down shortly after. When I handed it back to ole Arlie he told me "You know I got Hank Aaron's autograph in here." I thought to myself, "You dumb sum-bitch, there's way more intresting shit in there besides autographs, now I know where your safes are."

Finally.

I had my chance to get mine and my father's work done. I was gonna finish it for both of us, I guess you could say. My girl Etta Lee ain't much for brains, but she's hot as fire and drives a stick like Dale Earnhardt Sr. Late that night, we hit all the safes and scored Twenty Thousand even. I felt my father with me the whole time saying, "Don't worry son, I won't tell nobody."

Twenty Thousand don't seem like a lot, but when you come from where I did, Twenty Thousand can't get you places. Etta Lee and I been on the run for a few months now and it's been a hell of a time. I hadn't touched one mower or weed-eater and it feels like freedom. We've drank a lot of the money up with good times and experiences but I've got some ideas to see after. I might invest what's left but who knows, I can do anything I want.

All the dreams I've had of leaving that small shit hole finally worked out. Like I said, Twenty Thousand ain't much, but it's enough for what I needed. I won't try to lie and say that it all was honest, or that it was all the right thing to do but hell, work is work. It took me twenty years to learn that but I finally did it, thanks to ole Arlie Irving. He's always been a risk taker, so maybe he's proud, but I'll never find out.