Picking Up The Pieces

I drive back into San Diego, along Interstate 8. My five year old Mustang, with its little gas saving four cylinder, purrs along. I get to hotel circle and very briefly flash back to some of the dates that I took to the fancy hotel restaurants. Ah well, that was back then, this is now.
I exit the freeway and drive along once familiar streets. I get to a small house, on a side street. I talk with the woman who owns the little house.
The woman asks me, “You are James Mack?”
I say, “That’s me, although most just call me Jim.”
The woman says, “You have sent me first and last months rent. How do you intend to pay the rent month, by month?”
I laugh and lecture the woman, “Money is a little tight here, what with the collapse of the Lozenge Corporation. I worked for a criminal that they called Frankie, at the Lozenge Corporation. Frankie took a dislike to me, fired me, made it impossible for me to get another job in San Diego, and then had a goon, called Clancy, burn my car and beat me up. The police arrested me, the victim and then took Clancy off to a facility where they furnished him with room, board medical services and the care of sexy girls, in white uniforms. Later, a court decided that what I did was self defense. I sued Clancy and got a bit of money, from the Lozenge Corporation insurance. The United States government has then jailed Frankie for fraud. I was and I’m still the best damn computer programmer in San Diego. Since the work that the Lozenge Corporation contracted to do still needs to be done, the United States government hired me, as a contract programmer, to do some of the work that Frankie and the Lozenge Corporation failed to do, sort of picking up the pieces. Thus I will earn enough to pay the rent here. Meanwhile, the United States government has decided to provide Frankie with free room, board and medical care. A tempting offer, but it turns out that I’m allergic to iron bars and prison food.”
The woman sighs and says, “Apparently you did find work, outside San Diego.”
I state, “I was and I’m still the best damn computer programmer East of San Diego. Despite the fact that Frankie gave me the worst work evaluation ever, my skill kept me employed, at least from time to time.”
The woman asks me, “Did you come back looking for revenge?”
I state, “I came back looking for a steady, professional level, pay check. A lot of the programming work that I did was on Navy computers. San Diego is, maybe, the best place to get computer programming work on Navy computers.”
The woman nods yes and then shows me the house and garage. There are a few odd pieces of furniture in the house but no bed.
I tell the woman, “I have an inflatable bed and the linens for my inflatable.”
The woman then shows me the kitchen.
I see that there’s a refrigerator, a stove and even a dishwasher.
The woman says, “There are a few pots, pans, plates, mugs, glasses and such in the cupboards.”
I tell the woman, “I have a few things of my own and a microwave.”
The woman tells me, “There’s central air, you pay the gas and electric.”
I say, “I see that there’s an Internet line, that I need for my computer.”
The woman says, “This is the bathroom, you’re on your own water heater.”