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Matt pulled his phone out of his back pocket and lit up the home screen photo of Jimmy. “He turned one in November.”
“Looks like my grandson.” Tom beamed at Jimmy’s photo and thumbed Matt’s attention to a picture posted on one of the beams.
Tom didn’t look black, but the child in the picture was. And sure enough, he did remind Matt of his own little boy. “Yes, sir.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Shows me you’re responsible, which is what I am looking for. I only ask for you to be on time, to treat my customers well, and not to make trouble.” He pulled out a clipboard from under the bar, and it made Robby’s face flash behind Matt’s eyes. “Just fill out this application, and if it all checks out, you can start tomorrow. It’s just weekend days for now. Okay with you?”
It was perfect. He found himself mouthing along to the Beyoncé song playing from the overhead speakers as he worked on the form. He even chuckled as he handed in the paper and caught sight of three guys reenacting the dance moves from the video.
He left with a promise to return the next morning at eleven for his first shift.
The next two hours disappeared with a hastily prepared turkey sandwich and a crash course on a website Tom recommended, learning some basic drink recipes. He was studying so intently, he nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone alarm went off.
Four-fifteen. Robby had told him four o’clock. Fifteen minutes was not rude, but not desperate—or so he told himself as he fired up his PlayStation. He’d barely put on his headset before a message popped up on his screen from Robby inviting him to play.
When he accepted, Robby’s familiar voice welcomed him back. “I’m so glad you’re here. My team is getting its butt kicked.”
“Let me get into position.” He quickly got his character into place to provide cover fire. And just like the night before, he fell into an easy rhythm with his co-worker, and their team came out on top when the time ran out.
“Eat dirt!” Robby crowed as the scores popped up on the screen. “You rock at this, Matt. How long have you been gaming?”
“Always. Long as I can remember. But we all grew up on PlayStation, right?”
Robby didn’t answer.
He tried again. “What about you? Were you playingFinal Fantasywhen you were a kid or were you always into shooters?”
“I didn’t play until I was older. My family—the town where I grew up was kind of cut off. Nobody had a PlayStation. Most people didn’t even have internet. It was too rural.”
Matt wanted to ask what he did to entertain himself without gaming or the internet, but something in Robby’s voice made him suspect the questions would be unwelcome. Like he’d done so easily all of his life, he was tempted to let the silence prevail.
No. Not this time. “You’ll never believe it, but I took your advice.”
“Huh?”
That’s right. Reengage. “About bartending. I picked up a side-job. I start tomorrow.”
“Awesome!” The pride in the way Robby said it was almost palpable. The stumble in their conversation was forgotten.
“I’ve been studying some of the basic drink recipes, but if anyone asks for something I can’t find on the website, I’m screwed.”
Robby made a noise of disagreement. “You can Google anything. It’s going to be great. Don’t worry.”
“I hope so.” He exhaled. “I really need the money. People are depending on me.”
“Like your son.”
“Yeah. Jimmy. And my mom. I’ve got to do right by them.”
“If anyone can, it’s you.”
An ember of pride burned in his chest at Robby’s encouraging words. For the first time, he thought maybe he could.
***
Robby
Robby cursed himself silently for gushing, but the way Matt talked about being there for his son, well, the kid was lucky. He braced to get shut down, but instead, Matt chuckled.
