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part 2 of the story

The Eye

Eric Burbridge

    I slowed as I approached Ju Chen’s, something was different, what was it? Street caution set in and I scanned the area. Chinatown although spotless and relatively crime free there was occasional mugging or purse snatching. The restaurants had the traditional Chinese style architecture, pagoda style with the green ornate roofs. The canopy over the front windows had not been retracted and a couple of dragon sculptures were on each side of the entrance. A sign next to one of them said to visit their new location at “The New Bridgeport Mall” opening in the fall. The placed looked closed. I peeked in the heavy tinted glass, no one moved around, but those mouth-watering aromas drifted form the exhaust fans. It was only 11 am, she opens at noon. I rang the buzzer, at first, I was a little nervous and said a silent prayer. Lord don’t let that ass hole PO call me. I won’t be long. I rang again. Nothing and nobody. One more time and I’m gone. Somebody approached and yanked the door open. The frown on her round face disappeared when she saw me.
    “Milo Bipp, good to see you, lookin’ good Bipp, lookin’ good.” She hugged me with her soiled apron with God knows what was on it and pulled me inside. “I almost didn’t come to the door.”
    “Ju Chen, good to see you too. I hoped you were here.” I said and giggled as she pulled me to the bar. I noticed the elimination of most of the Chinese décor that had been replaced with contemporary furniture. “No liquor, Ju, too early in the day.”
    “Okay, lemonade won’t hurt, right?” I nodded.
    “Right.”
    Ju Chen was tall for an Asian woman, but at sixty plus, so she said, she was a knock out. She had it all; hips, tits and a nice butt. She opened a small frig under the bar. “I don’t see any, Sherry drunk it, but I make more.” She placed a blender on the counter and dug fruit out of several baskets. “This will be better.” Sherry, her only daughter was one helluva flirt. Ju Chen knew it and was very protective. Rumor had it a guy took advantage of her and they found him on the river bank barely alive. They said Ju had Traid connections. The sound of that blender would wake the dead. She poured the concoction in a tall glass. “This is good for digestion, Bipp, enjoy.”
    She was right. I wiped my mouth and belched. “Excuse me...that was delicious.”
    “Have to take care of my only son.” She smiled and grabbed my hand. “Doesn’t seem like a year and some change you gone. What’s up?” Before I could answer a high-pitched voice came from the kitchen.
    “Ma, where are you...what you doing?” It was Sherry. “Is that you, Bipp?” She extended her arms to hug me so she wouldn’t dirty my clothes from her stained apron. “Looking good old man. Jail been good to you, right?” She laughed, but she made sure she gave me a too long peck on the lips. I saw her mother’s eyes start to narrow. Time to leave, Sherry. I do not need family drama. I understood...she was young, hormones raging, but don’t get me in trouble. Ju Chen was not a racist, but stressed the importance of maintaining traditional Chinese values and customs. God knows what her mother would have done to me. I was a son to her and betraying that trust, while would not unnatural or illegal, would piss her off. Hell, hath no fury like Ju Chen scorned. She was a retired Asian History teacher who taught Mandurian as a second language, who took me under her wing in high school before inheriting the family business. I learned a lot and after graduating I would visit her and got to know the family. “You staying for a while or what?” Sherry asked, and back peddled toward the kitchen.
    “No, not today, but I’ll be back soon.”
    “Cool, see ya.”
    Ju shook her head. “Young people what can you do with them? But I should be happy she not pregnant, right?”
    “Of course.” I needed to get to the point. If that damn PO called, I would have to answer and I didn’t want to make her suspicious. After all you never know what a person will do after they have been locked up.
    “You anxious, Bipp, talk to me.”
    Those wise eyes had a laser focus on me. “Remember that metal box I left with you?” She nodded. “I need it.” She looked confused. That look someone has as they think about what was asked without knowing the answer. That worried me. Please remember where you put it. “Ju please tell me you have it.”
    “I got it...where did I put it?” She stooped behind the bar fumbling with boxes or whatever. Oh no here we go. I took another sip of my smoothie while she searched. “Got it, I know where it is.” She popped up, laughing. “I got you, didn’t I? Be right back.” When she returned, she had taken off the soiled apron and hair bonnet. The red metal box looked the same and the combination lock was still on it. “See I still got it,” and sat it on the table. “Should I be concerned or what?”
    “No, you know I wouldn’t put you or yours in a bad situation.” I spun it around and did a quick inspection. “My manuscripts are in here.” I turned the dial fast as possible. The lock popped. Good so far.
    “You looked relieved, Bipp, you know you can trust me.”
    “I know that, that’s why I left it here so after the word was out about us being indicted, I knew, or at least I was pretty sure, the feds or cops wouldn’t be bothering you. Nobody knows we’re that close.”
    “What about that sneaky guy, Nate Potts? I don’t trust him, he’s jealous type. He sniffin’ up to my daughter. That I don’t like.” Ju said with a frown on her face and her tight eyes got tighter. Potts was a dog, but Ju Chen was smart and ruthless. I hoped for his sake he knew what he was doing if he was seeing Sherry. I finally got the box in my backpack.
    “You good with your stuff?”
    “Yeah, thanks Ju for keeping it safe. This stuff is probably worthless, but it means the world to me.” I hugged her. “I hate to run, but I got a date...”
    “You pretty boys always have date.”
    I laughed slightly embarrassed. “This lady is special; I got a good feeling about her.”
    “Okay, Bipp, but be careful. I always say somebody in your group ratted on you and everybody else.” She walked me to the door and gave me a bear hug. The sound of that deadbolt lock she flipped reminded me of those in prison.
    What was I going to fix for dinner? Frying chicken was out of the question now and I had the feeling Lindsay would agree, it had gotten too late. The solution to that problem; my frozen TV dinners, leftovers in plastic containers in the freezer and after the seasoning had soaked in, they are delicious. The best thing to do now get my stories back home where they belong. I forgot whether I asked her about her zone passes she had, if any.
    “Hello handsome, what can I do for you?”
    “You have zone passes passed the Southland?” I crossed my fingers.
    “Yeah, sure do, you that far out?” She asked with a hint of disappointment.
    “I’m in New Matteson...”
    “Cool, then we’re good for dinner? But there’s a thing.”
    “What thing?”
    “I’m closing early we got inventory in the morning. They want me here. I’m disappointed I was hoping we’d sleep late.”
    Man, this was moving faster than I thought. “That’s okay, we turn in early. I asked about the zone thing because I’m going straight home. I got a few things to do first. You mind taking an Uber to my place. I got it when you get here.”
    “That’s fine, I got to make a stop myself.”
    “I’m texting you the address now.”

*

    I had time to kill before Lindsay’s arrival. Normally I would be skeptical if she would keep our date, but that was the least of my worries. Ju Chen’s revelation she thought there was a rat in the group stuck in my mind again. I tried to shake it, but I could not do it. It was not the first time; parents, my lawyer and a few friends who I rarely listen too, said the same thing. What was the reasoning behind it? George and Brian sold the idea for the heist to the idiots that tried it. I’m the writer and didn’t get a dime, but the shit hit the fan and there we were. Now Brian was dead, George still in jail and Nate Potts never got indicted. Logic says he’s the rat, but I didn’t buy that entirely. Eavesdropping and political ambition got us.
    “It’s a fictious story.” I told the cops, but the proof was gone. Who took my computer and notes? Without them...good-bye, Milo Bipp, my lawyer said and that fat SOB was right. I spent every waking day in jail trying to solve the who set us up puzzle. I did not figure it out then and I won’t now. Take a nap, Bipp, you will feel better. The double deck Illinois Central railroad car rocked back and forth and I got the nap I needed all the way to New Matteson.
    I set up everything to perfection; it didn’t take long since I was always an excellent house keeper. Congrats to my parents, they would be proud. Experience taught me nothing will get a woman out of her clothes faster than a beautiful clean apartment. Lindsay was no different. That initial hug and kiss at the door told me I was in for an intense night of romance.
    The compliment, “Those were the best leftovers I’ve ever had,” added to the suspense of what she will do to me, but to my disappointment she could not do anything and she cut the heavy petting short. “That would be teasing you, don’t be angry.” I wasn’t, I had another alternative, one I liked a lot in the downstairs apartment. But Lindsay’s charm and wit was more than enough, for the time being, especially with shots of fifty-year old scotch and hundred-year-old film noir detective movie mysteries. We woke at about five, groggy until we smelled each other’s breath. That was a real eye opener. I ignored the hard-on and thanked God for what seemed to be, for the time being, a woman who was familiar with my criminal past and didn’t care. She said, “It’s obvious it was a railroad, but why? We all know how the Conservatives feel about men of color, but you look well and seemed to have survived the bullshit. And by the way, I got popped for drugs at an early age, but I only got probation, so the past ain’t a thing with me, okay?” What could I say? And that settled that. I pinched myself, was I dreaming or what? I wasn’t.
    I hoped PO would not call while she was in the shower. It was close to six and if anything, the guy was punctual. She opened the door just as I put on my earpiece. “It’s all yours, sorry for all the steam I couldn’t find the exhaust fan switch.”
    “Right here,” I hit the switch. “Works every time.” She was embarrassed, but continued to dry her hair with the oversized white towel. I grabbed my cell and went in closed and locked the door. The signal came in at exactly six.
    “Bipp, you there?”
    “Yeah, PO, I’m here.” I lifted the toilet seat and took a leak looking down at the yellow stream hit the water. That should piss him off, but I couldn’t shake the feeling it did not. “What’s happening today, PO? Hello.”
    “You due here for a drop.” I heard papers being shuffled. “Tomorrow, nine am. sharp at the Metro Correctional Center.”
    I grinned in the mirror with a mouth full of toothpaste, spit it out and rinsed my mouth. “Got it, PO. And when I pass what happens?”
    “Nothing Bipp, you just will not be violated.”
    I started to shower and I heard strange sounds. Was he moaning? I bent over to wash my ankles and heard a faint whisper.
    “That’s it, don’t move.”
    Lindsay knocked on the door, “Milo honey, you want me to cook some bacon and eggs?”
    “You got company, Bipp?”
    “Yeah. I can have company, right PO?”
    “Of course, you can.”
    “Are you satisfied, PO?” He sounded out of breath like he had a sexual climax. I adjusted my thoughts. He wasn’t playing with himself while I took a shower. It was just my imagination, but I was going to research getting a new PO, if possible, serious thought would have to go into that plan. There were too many “what if’s”, but I had confidence something would swing my way. Was he white, black or whatever? Since we are having what will be a closer relationship, he will see her. What will he think when he sees a tall, attractive blond that’s mixed with whatever? Time will tell.
    “Yes...yes, I am, but what do you mean?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Until tomorrow, Bipp.” The line went dead.
    I tried to make conversation, but I was distracted and we ate mostly in silence.
    “Milo, what’s bothering you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    “I don’t mind, that was my PO. He’s an asshole. He’s trying to ruin my day, but it will not work, especially with a radiant presence like you sitting across from me.”
    She blushed and dabbed that gorgeous set of lips. “That’s sweet, but if you need help or advice don’t hesitate to ask.”
    “I won’t.” We finished eating; she left for work and promised to call later.

*

    My stomach turned as soon as I set foot on the square block that the MCC was located. I did not belong here; it further sickened me being innocent, but nobody cared. I looked at that forty-story monstrosity with the erratic pattern of vertically slotted windows. Some cells had them, others didn’t. Every type of sensor known to man was trained on you once you hit the first step to the lobby. The guard at the desk was a short, boxy built female with a toothless smile and a face like a pug. Today must be her birthday, several vases of flowers were sitting on the desk and a couple boxes of candy. The only attractive thing about her, a soothing angelic voice. Something a person needs walking into a prison. After the facial scanner read me, “Former inmate, Mr. Bipp go to the second bank of elevators,” She handed me a visitor’s pass.
    “Where’s the walk-through metal detector?” She didn’t say a word.
    Jail...you have to be mad to want to come here or any other, but I talked to people who didn’t mind, it was there only means of survival. The elevator had that smell. I hoped this visit did not take long; I hoped to surprise Lindsay with lunch. The door opened and the odor of disinfectant slapped me in the face. An inmate in a bright orange jumpsuit mopped the high gloss linoleum tiles with a rhythm only inmate’s master. We exchanged glances and down the dingy gray hallway I went. A big bright neon sign for parolee medical unit lit up the end of the corridor. I flashed the pass and a steel door slid open. Several females in scrubs gave me a hard once over and went back to handling test tubes of blood and specimen cups of whatever. The room was a typical blood lab, chairs with the extended arm rest with trays of empty tubes, tourniquet straps and needles. Before I could sit a heavy-set woman with short blonde hair slammed a sample cup on the counter by a computer monitor. “This is for you, but first, eyes in the scanner.” I obeyed. “Milo Bipp...okay Bipp, in there I’m right behind you.” The bathroom/lab smelled like the urine that filled the containers on the table. She watched closely while I gave her a full cup. She put it in a machine that looked like a coffee brewer. “You’re clean and now you see, Dr. Irving.”
    “Dr. Irving?”
    “That’s that what I said, Bipp,” she snapped. “I think you’re scheduled for surgery. Go across the hall, now.”
    When I entered her office, it smelled like fresh roses. She sat at what used to be a receptionist desk, but it being prison who needs that? She had a beautiful smile and a calming spirit about her, that enhanced her otherwise plain looks and thin frame. Regardless, all the inmates were in love with her until they got out, of course. “Hello, Mr. Bipp, good to see you so soon. I’ll get to the point.” She opened the door to a small OR and signaled me in. “Good news, there’s an order to remove your implant or ‘the eye’ as they say.” She chuckled softly.
    “Really...you’re kidding. This soon?”
    “Nope, it’s true. Have a seat, I’ll prep you, my nurse called in sick today. It won’t take long, an hour or so.”

*

    I was groggy until I heard Dr. Irving’s voice. “You woke, Bipp?”
    “Yeah,” I opened my eye and there she was looking down at me with a surgical mask on that covered half her face. “Good to hear your voice. All went well I take it.”
    “Yes, routine removal, but you should’ve never gotten a transplant in either eye. I mentioned it, but I heard either that or you stay here longer. Don’t ever quote me on that, it was a rumor, but I’m a doctor; I try my best to stay out of the politics of this place.” She continued to study my other eye, then focused on the display overhead.
    “Could you loosen these straps, doc?”
    “Oh, sorry, but regulations are regulations,” She yanked it and unbuckled me. “Your vitals are good and I don’t anticipate any other problems with your vision.”
    “Was I the only one with this eye thing?” Why did I ask that? I wasn’t going to get an honest answer.
    “No, you weren’t.” That was a surprise. “But you know how it is.” The wink said it all.
    “Yeah, I know but still. I was under the impression they worked out all the kinks in the tech.” She had that expression; don’t ask too many questions, on her narrow face, but her eyes spoke volumes.
    “Even though SCOTUS approved this surveillance crap, I knew they’d abuse it...I knew it. Did the implant irritate at any time or did your eyes ever tear?” Her fingers danced over the keys of the computer.
    “No. You know what, I bet somebody hacked the system.” She didn’t look up, but smiled. I was right. “Is one of the activist groups and their lawyers filing suit?” My PO was a freak of some kind. I could feel it in my gut. What if they recorded all the parolee’s movements? Could they be in the cloud or at home on their PC’s?
    The doctor looked up at me and then over her glasses. “Don’t be too smart for your own good, Bipp, okay? Stay smart...stay healthy.” The phone rang. “Yes sir, I’ve finished the procedure.” She listened intensely to whoever was on the other end. What was being said? Her expression said she didn’t like it and she rolled her eyes upward. That had to be the parole department. Had I been violated? Time will tell. “I have always recommended a twenty-four-hour long period of recovery just to let the body rest from the anesthetic.” She slammed the phone down. “Asshole.” She went to the printer and snatched the paper. “Take this to the parole department; they’re waiting for you, and don’t remove that patch for a least eight hours.” She held my arm all the way to the door. “Be careful, Bipp.”
    “I will, doc.”
    Three doors down were the Parole Department. When I walk in every body stopped what they were doing and looked at me. I hate that shit! To my surprise two women POs wore sidearms, both were in their mid-forties with the professional stress and strain etched into their expressions. The taller one told me to have a seat while turning papers on a clipboard. “Milo Bipp, 234715?”
    “Yes, that’s me.” The shorter lady keyed whatever into the computer, spun in her chair and smiled. Her lip gloss highlighted a perfect mouth. That close cut blonde hair style was good. She was a knock-out. I had a feeling neither one of these women would ever be my PO. No such luck.
    “Officer Smith is waiting for you.” The door buzzed and I didn’t move. What horror awaited, was it a male or female? “Well go ahead, handsome, he won’t bite.”
    I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and pushed. It took its sweet time opening. The place needed air freshener, whoever sat in the seat with his back turned must have gas. The office was typical for a prison; steel cabinets that were padlocked, steel tables and a desk with the usual computer. The occupant turned quickly and grabbed a clipboard.
    “Your name?”
    “Milo Bipp, sir.” I wanted to rub my eye, but the patch would irritate the surgery. I could not believe what I saw. Officer Smith looked like me! Was this a joke?
    “Surprise, Bipp.”
    I wanted to slap that grinning smirk off his face. “Surprise, that’s an understatement.” He appeared to be my height. I could not tell from him sitting down, but I was close. His complexion was smooth, little to no facial hair like me except a small mustache that took forever to grow. His eyes brows looked waxed but weren’t like mine; his nose was thicker but still keen with elevated cheek bones and noticeable brown eyes. He even wore his hair in a pony tail. Jesus...was this asshole a relative? No, that couldn’t be.
    “A smart guy like you should know to address me as Officer Smith, a common and easy name to remember, And, no we ain’t related in any way if that’s what you thinking.”
    He reads minds too. “You sure?” I snapped. What will his reaction be? I didn’t care anyway.
    He shot out his seat. “Who you think you talking too, Bipp?”
    He didn’t startle me one bit. “You...Officer Smith.” I said calmly, but my expression was focused. Then it hit me, that voice sounded familiar. I was off my game; I should have picked it up at first. That was PO when I had the eye. We were eye to eye; he was pissed, but why? It was in my best interest to de-escalate the situation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be short, but it’s not every day you meet your doppelganger.” I smiled. “But I’m prettier than you.” He smiled an sat back down.
    “Okay have a seat, Bipp.”
    I did just that. Now what? “How was the surgery?” He stared at the patch.
    “It’s fine, but I’m still a little groggy.”
    “Okay, this won’t take long.” He slid a clipboard with a form on it across the desk. “Read and sign. As you can see it’s the basic rules and regulations for probation.” He checked the signature. “The short time you had the eye you maintained decent company and locations, so you should be okay.”
    “Uh, what do you mean?” He gave me that question mark expression. I was never anywhere but, in my apartment, and the bathroom when we spoke. How did he know that? Maybe he was speaking figuratively. Dr. Irving suggested abuse and she was probably right. How did he go around the protocols leading to the interview? There was a ring tone, but I did hear background noise. They lied from the beginning. He and other POs were tuned in, probably most of the time. Nosy bastards. And he was watching me in the shower. Smith was queer...would it make a difference in the end? Did he see Lindsay, Potts and Ju Chen? I’ll have to assume he did, but my gut told he didn’t hear much and if he did it was not illegal. No violation.
    “I mean...your address led me to that conclusion. It’s to your benefit, Bipp.”
    The hesitation in his voice confirmed my suspicions. “Okay, Officer Smith, now what?”
    “That’s it for today, see you every Monday at 9am, on time, Bipp.” He went back to work on his computer.

*

    Sherry Chen realized after seeing Bipp, she still had an adolescent crush on him. But her mom still considered her to be one, and there was nothing she could do about it. Jesus, he still looked good...no prison tats or scars. She loved the way he looked at her with hidden lust or was that her imagination? Either way she would have to accept the reality Bipp would remain an imaginary lover. What a waste, for him, she learned so much from his friend and nemesis, Nate Potts. She kept his number under a different name on the speed dial for security. It would not surprise her if her mother went through her phone now and then. Her mom was a strict date your own kind person. Her mom left a few minutes after Bipp. Good. She would finish up the rice and call Nate. She’d woke up in a romantic mood and was thinking about his hard body against her all morning. A quickie won’t do, she would require more of his time in her then out. What would she do to keep him around longer? Whatever she’d say would be meaningless without the copies of Bipp’s manuscript that her mother keeps hidden. She was good at treasure hunting as a kid and that carried over into her teens. How did Nate know she had it? Whatever the reason she enjoyed his writings and envied his imagination. It was rare her mom took to people outside their community, she treated Bipp like a son, but she didn’t seem to like Nate, but that was before her time. She was going to ask why he wanted copies as part of their bedside manner. She checked under the bar in that narrow box in the safe. It was gone. She was going to check her copies before she called Nate. Something told her to wait a minute...it was good she did because her mom returned and went straight for the bar’s safe with papers, she got from who knows where. “What you doing, Sherry?”
    “Nothing mom, just finishing up and I’m headed back upstairs, then I’m going out for a while.” She untied and hung up her apron and headed to the back. She could feel her mom looking at her.

*

Enjoy the Eric Burbridge story “The Eye” in the April, May, June & July 2023 issues of cc&d magazibe...

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