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Finally, he looked up and said, “I’ll take eight six-foot posts.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, grabbing the first piece of lumber. “I’ll get this ready and loaded into your truck. You can pay in the office.”
“Thank you, son,” he said, doddering off.
The manager walked up, taking stock of my work. “Need any help?”
“I got it,” I said.
“Well, let Tim know when you’re ready to load the truck.”
I brushed off the offer. “I can load it.”
It wasn’t really about helping me haul lumber, and we both knew it. At some level, they thought I was going to abscond with the customer’s wood, though what they thought I was going to do with it, I couldn’t tell. Maybe I was going to sell it on the black market for a skate park ramp. I grinned. I couldn’t help myself.
The manager caught it and frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I said, putting my goggles on.
I cut the wood while he supervised. When I was done and began carrying the lumber to Mr. Bucks’s truck, the manager finally moved on. I didn’t know what I was going to have to do to prove to them that I wasn’t a criminal. I was great with customers, and I never complained. I was the first one into the office in the morning. I never drank on the job. They would be lucky to find another guy like me, but they couldn’t see past my history.
That manager, the barkeeper at the Lucky Lady, and my mom were all convinced I was going to run off with the silverware. The customers, some of the guys I worked with, and my dad were much more chill and had an ounce of faith in me.
I clocked out for my lunch break and took my truck into town to grab a bite. Mom’s kitchen was always open, but I didn’t feel like cold cuts with a side of guilt. Instead, I opted for the diner across the street from the police station. They had the best cheeseburgers in town and the wait staff could see past my personal failings.
I parked, walked in, and asked for a booth. Even though I was alone, there were usually enough seats that I could score a booth on my own. There were five girls who traded shifts throughout the day, and I knew them all. Gina and Polly were on duty today. Gina was my mother’s age, but that didn’t stop her from flirting. Polly was my age, and her attention was hot today.
“Hi, handsome.” Gina winked.
“Just one?” Polly asked hopefully.
“Just one,” I confirmed.
“Follow me.” The younger waitress tossed her hair and sashayed through the dining room, glancing back to make sure I was paying attention.
Polly had a tight little ass, only accentuated by the miniskirt she was required to wear. Her uniform hugged sultry curves and put her long legs on display. I was sure she had her pick of lovesick young men and thought nothing of it when she put the menu down on my table. I slid into the seat, ordered an iced tea and a cheeseburger, and got to playing with my phone.
Gina swept over to my side as soon as Polly disappeared. She gave my table another wipe down, a goofy smile on her face. “How’s things at the lumberyard?”
“Fine,” I said.
“Are they givin’ you a hard time?” she wondered. I almost thought she was going to sit down opposite me.
“No more so than usual,” I replied.
“You know you always got a home with us.” Gina pinched my cheek, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop.
The cook poked his head out of the kitchen, shaking a spatula. “Gina, quit harassing the customers.”
Gina winked at me and drifted away to wipe other tables. Polly returned with my food a few minutes later, and she did sit down. “I was thinking, if you don’t have any plans this Friday night, maybe you want to go into Nashville?” She looked up at me, a mixture of embarrassment and hope in her eyes. “There’s a band playing that’s supposed to be the next Johnny Cash.”
I inhaled, wanting to let her down easy. “Polly, you’re very pretty,” I began.
“But?” She threw her elbows onto the table and settled her chin into her palm.
“I just don’t date,” I said.
She straightened, having expected me to say I was seeing someone else. “What do you mean you don’t date?”
