It was nearly midnight when eighteen year old Gavin Amon left his friends house to walk the fifteen minute route to his own home to where he and his mother lived. He now took a different route home as they'd recently moved house, but it was still only walking distance. The walk provided young Gavin an opportunity to leave his tag in new residential streets for the world to see, mainly on fences and walls and any flat service that was suitable. Armed with a can of red spray paint, he would dawdle along the streets and leave his mark, a wild abstract version of his own initials. Most of his friends used black paint but Gavin preferred red which stood out better, more of his own personal trademark he often told himself. He was in a generous mood that night, firstly he tagged the side of a white truck parked by the kerb, and secondly a large garage door which he tagged twice in large letters. He had in fact tagged this particular garage door twice before, but each time his tag had been sadly removed by the time he next ventured past. After Gavin finished the door, he thought nothing of it as he continued his walk home leaving his mark on various other fences and walls. He stopped tagging three streets away from where he lived, completely oblivious to the events and consequences that were to follow his actions.
Eleven hours later, Carl Read stood on his driveway glaring at the graffiti on his garage door, he was seething in anger and ready for violence. He had managed to remove the paint on the two previous occasions, but this time he'd had to rub the door so hard, he'd removed the top coat of paint and the result looked terrible. The powder coated folding metal door had cost over three thousand dollars to install only a few months ago as part of a major renovation to his house. Even though Carl was a big powerful man, he was not usually prone to violence. However if he could just lay his hands on the graffiti artist for a few seconds he'd make sure he'd never do it again. He knew it was the same person. Each time the door had been tagged, Carl had taken photos with his digital Camera with a hope of catching the culprit. Later that day, he provided the local police department with copies of the damage, but he knew in his own mind that they would give it a low priority.
A day or so later Carl was at his favourite bar moaning to his friends about his door, a stranger from another table overheard the conversation and suggested he should try the local high schools. He made the comment that often taggers will deface their school books, bags and other things with their tag. If the tagger was still at school, one of the teachers may recognise it. A still angry Carl pondered over the suggestion, the next day he visited each of the local high schools and gave them a computer generated photo copy of his tagged door.
It was probably just bad luck on Gavin's part, his science teacher who personally didn't like him, recognised the tag instantly as he approached the teacher's common room notice board. That afternoon, Gavin was removed from his class to participate in an interview with the school principal and a local cop. At first, Gavin was a little perturbed about being identified so easily, but as a juvenile he had little to worry about. He puffed out his chest when he considered his new found status, now a famous tagger and known to the law. If the cop was annoyed at Gavin's lack of remorse, it was nothing compared to Carl's. He just couldn't believe that nothing of any consequence was about to befall the tagger. It however only took a night of careful deliberation before he settled on a different course of action.
Over the next few days, Carl arranged for two quotes to have his garage door removed, striped down to bare metal, repainted and then reinstalled. He took the most expensive quote and then sat down at his desk. He wrote a letter to the parent or guardian of Gavin Amon requesting a full payment of nineteen hundred dollars to have his garage door restored to its original condition. Being a lawyer, Carl clearly pointed out that a lack of response within thirty days would result in a civil action via the court with a view to recover all costs which would include legal costs. He then settled back to wait.
It was a Sunday afternoon when Carl heard the unmistakable noise of his gate opening. Turning to the window, he watched as a woman walked up the path and knock on the door. He walked to the door and opened it.
"Hi, I'm Lorna Amon. It was my son Gavin who graffiti'd your garage door."
"You'd better come in then."
Carl directed her into the lounge and invited her to sit down; she sat nervously on the edge of the couch as if readying herself for a quick exit.
"Look, I'm really sorry for what my son has done. The trouble is that I can't afford to pay for the repairs to the door."
Carl fidgeted angrily in his chair, "I've just spent sixty thousand dollars on renovations on this place. The front of my house now looks like a pigs arse just because you can't keep your son under control."
Her face dropped under his onslaught.
"The truth is that I just can't pay it. My husband and I've recently split up and I'm working two jobs just to make ends meet. I've downgraded down to a smaller house to try and keep our heads above water. I'm just bloody worn out, and yes, I probably haven't spending the time with my son that I should."
"Well, I don't see why I should have to pay for it. I've worked damn hard to pay for all of this. Why should your son get away with it?"
"He hasn't just got away with it, the courts given him periodic detention. He's got to wander the neighbourhood every weekend and paint out all of his tags and others to boot. Unfortunately, he can't do anything with your door. I've grounded him for six months. I've confiscated his Playstation and removed his TV from his room. I've also cancelled his internet account. I can assure you he's not a happy camper. I reckon he's gonna make my life a misery too." she added.
Carl was taken aback by her retort, and then laughed. He could just imagine her son moping around the house bored and dejected while his friends were out terrorising the town. Lorna's relief was evident and smiled. For the first time, Carl took in her looks. Her short brown styled hair was cut short with streaks of blonde frosting, her oval face attractive with large green or blue eyes. She wore little makeup, just a little pink pastel lipstick matching her blouse. Her black jeans curved over her thighs and met slinky boots.
Lorna took no offence as he gazed at her; it was just a thing men did to women as a matter of course. Of course, it made it easier if the man was attractive, but unfortunately not all men were. On the wrong side of forty, Lorna was grateful that she still had the ability to turn men's heads. She was well aware that her trim figure was more the result of a stressful marriage break up than anything else. She met his stare and for the next few seconds their eyes held. Carl looked just as good close up as he did from a distant. Lorna had driven past his house several times over last week trying to pluck up the courage to knock on his door. She had driven past day before and caught a glimpse of him toiling in the front garden. Dressed only in shorts and boots, she had taken in his tall tanned frame and wide shoulders, he was just how she liked her men. She was tempted to pull over and talk to him there and then, but just couldn't find the courage to do so.
For more than a few seconds, they gazed across the lounge at each other, and for the first time in a long time she felt a twinge of sexual desire. It had been a long time since she'd felt that and it felt real good.
"So where to we go from here?" Carl asked.
Lorna shrugged her shoulders, "I'm not sure. I'm not trying to shirk my responsibilities as a parent. I'm prepared to work it off if you want. I'll clean your house; do your washing and ironing. I can garden and push a lawn mower."
Carl appreciated her suggestion and laughed, "How do you know I haven't already got someone to do the house work?"
"A woman's instinct, there seems to be a lack of a woman's touch around the place." she replied looking around her.
"That obvious eh?"
Lorna smiled, "Yeah."
"Same situation as you, divorced a few years back. Working too hard and drifted apart, by the time we both realised, it was too late to turn the clock back."
"I know what that's like. Look, I'd rather work the money off than try and pay back the money. I'll do anything."
Carl sat back to ponder her suggestion. She seemed a nice person and he didn't see why she should be punished, maybe he should just forget the whole thing and try and touch up the garage door himself. His hesitation however unsettled Lorna who misread his direction of thought.
"As I said I'll do anything, I'll even go to bed with you if you want." she suggested.
