Doing Bad - Going Bad

He's tired of the whining, and the strains to get up the slight inclines.
"Come on Gertie, come on baby, just make it to the store!" 
The man is accustomed to the car performing poorly.
He plans to put transmission fluid in the vehicle as soon as he reaches the store.
Shawn is tired of having to add transmission fluid, oil, gas, and air to the old Chrysler, every day. He wants a new car, truck or SUV wants to be confident that his vehicle will make it to the destination, but times are tough.
The 300C squelches as he pulls into the Service station. Remembering when the vehicle turned heads for an entirely different reason, he hops out and pops the hood.
It's not that he cares about their thoughts but he sees the girls in their, "club gear" looking at him and his car.
Moving like newly born calves on their stilettos, the trio of women helicopter whisper about his "Raggedy ass car." and speak knowingly about "broke niggas"
It's humbling.
He knows that if he hadn't been injured the vehicle would be fixed. In fact, it would be fixed if he could just devote some of his hard-earned paychecks to repairs.
Other things like having a roof over his head and food in his belly take precedence. Oh, and all the back child support from his recovery.
The car is a very long way from the sexy and sleek Silver bullet it was in 05. The brand had just been redesigned to look like the Bentley, and Shawn had draped it in chrome and made it resemble the much more expensive brand even more so.
It was a beautiful car. It had been a source of pride, now the opposite is true.
The aftermarket chrome is peeling off faster than he can super glue it back on.
He is embarrassed about driving the car to his job.
He's been told that it can't be parked in the employee lot, the fluid leaks stain the concrete.
The car is not the only broken down thing in Shawn's life, he carries his inoperative Movado in his backpack, his Invicta and Tag Heuer occupy a shelf at his home.

None of them are worth selling, and the repairs would cost money that needs to go into his transportation fund. 

He's tried working online, doing surveys, selling blood, working a second job, nothing seems to make ends meet. 

After he tops of all of the fluids in the car, Shawn completes his drive to work. 

He works at the Towers, three apartment buildings combined, as soon as he arrives he buries himself in the package room not wanting to talk to anyone.

Although he works in the heart of the city, he is never "in" the heart of the city. 

Fear of his vehicle failing combined with shame about its appearance force him straight home each day. 

His co-workers won't let him stay hidden. They want to take their breaks now that he is at work. 

That's how he got the pitch. 

He is at the front desk passing out packages. 

Since he doesn't care enough to know the residents when one tells him their unit number he simply grabs their items and gives them to them.

The first time he handed a resident a fraudulent package from the cable company it was sheer ignorance. 

Shawn didn't know or care that the person asking didn't reside in that unit.   

Of course, the wanna-be con artist decided to take advantage and ask for another package assigned to a different apartment. 

"Say bruh, didn't you just pick up for 1006? Now you want a package for 1208? I was born in the morning my Gee, but it wasn't this morning." 

Shawn delivers the rebuke calmly and without any anger.

He just wants to get the person out of his face and get the day finished. 

The well dressed young man leans in close his horrible smelling breathe directly into Shawn's face. 

"Say Unc I know, you wanna make some real money. I see you, my nigga. I see your style you are a jazzy older dude, you're smart, I hear you speaking foreign languages and shit, I see these young girls and how they look at you."
The young hustler's breath was
disgusting, but Shawn held his breath and listened to him.
"I'll give you $50 right now to bring me that package and another $50 if you tell me which apartments are empty.
Then for each box, I get I will give you another $50. What's good unk? Can I pay you cool Unc?" 

All of the reasons not to do it flashes through Shawn's mind.
Shawn thinks about the fact that his job hasn't given him a raise, that he is afraid to drive himself to work most days, that he really needs the money.  

That it is not a big deal, that no one is going to get hurt, that he can finance the car repairs and maybe even get another one altogether.

The halitosis kid senses, Shawn is on the precipice.  "Let me get that other box here is a dollar."

The man folds a $100 bill into Shawn's hand. 

"I'll be back in 20 minutes and if you have any empty apartment numbers I have another fifty cents for you." 

The younger man's breath took its time following him.

He carries both of the packages to a Maserati.

Shaw pulls up the list of empty apartments and writes down the numbers.

$150 won't change the world, but it might be the start of change for Shawn.