Chapter 100
I moved toward the trailer and secured the tarp. “You know it.”
“Pussy.”
“Not since I was sixteen, honey.”
“God, you’re an idiot.” Grant parked the forklift, then walked over to me. He took a receipt from his shirt pocket showing proof of delivery and exchanged it with the bill I handed to him.
“Someday,” Grant said, “you’re gonna wake up and realize there’s more to life than having a new hole to fuck every night. Maybe then, you’ll get a clue. You have my phone number if you ever change your mind, or wanna talk.” He slapped me on the back. “See you next time, Trev Harding.”
I watched Grant walk away, that tight-assed swagger making me want to call him back and have another go, but I pushed that thought down, quick. What is wrong with me today?
It seemed like everybody wanted me to pursue something more permanent. Maybe there was something in the water—or the cement dust. I didn’t have the time to pursue those thoughts, so I chose to fill my stomach, instead. I drove over to the fast food place that was on the way to my next delivery stop and parked in the wide lot nearby.
I got out, locked the rig, and crossed the street to enter the cool, inviting interior of McDonald’s.
“Hey, handsome,” Cherry greeted me when I got to the head of the line. It was now eight o’clock and I was starving.
“Hey, baby girl. Don’t you look gorgeous today.” Tongue in cheek, since her face was anything but. Cherry was always sweet to me, though.
“Yeah, ‘bout as gorgeous as youare, I bet.” She rolled her eyes at me and put in my regular order of two hotcakes and sausage meals, with a sausage burrito and hash browns thrown in, plus coffee. Alwayscoffee. This meal had to last me all day since I usually didn’t eat again until I got off work.
“Thanks, sweetie,” I said as I paid her and took the change she handed over.
“See you next time, sugar,” Cherry replied and moved on to the next customer.
I refilled my travel mug with coffee then waited on my order. Two minutes later, it was ready. I grabbed it and headed back out to the truck. There was enough time to eat and make the next delivery with no problems.
As I chewed, I sent texts to Adrian’s cellphone, just to irritate him. It didn’t take much. After the first few “whatcha doin’, A” messages, he sent back a terse, “stop bugging me, moron.” Mission accomplished.
Once I finished my meal and put the trash in an old plastic bag I kept under the passenger seat, I buckled myself in and headed back out on my delivery route.
* * * *
It was four o’clock in the afternoon when I finally pulled into the gravel lot at ConcreteXpress and parked. I could see the dust swirling around the tires in my rearview mirror. I felt grubby, and I needed a shower, badly. I turned off the engine, grabbed my work bag and other personal items, then got out. After locking the rig, I headed to the trailer. The blast of cold air from inside was wonderful.
Adrian was arguing with another regular driver, Derrick. Now, Derrick was an idiot, in that he couldn’t tell when a man had a full head of steam on him, and Adrian was ready to blow.
“Hey, Adrian,” I said, interrupting the men. I figured it needed to be done, if for no other reason than to save Derrick’s dumbass hide. “Brought the keys for the truck, boss.” I threw them on his desk.
Adrian glanced at the keys, then me. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Thanks, Trev.” I knew he was referring to diffusing the argument with the other driver, not the keys.
To Derrick, he said, “What I say goes. The next time you sass a customer like that, you’re fired. I don’t care what they say to you or how long it takes to get a forklift to the load. If there’s a problem, you call me first, always.Clear?”
Derrick didn’t respond. Instead, he shoved past me and left the office, muttering to himself.
“You all right, man?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the desk while I watched Adrian hang my keys up on the tack board.
“I’m fine. Derrick knows better, but he’s been acting up lately. There’s probably something else going on in his life, but if he can’t get his personal shit under control, I’ll have to let him go.”
“What’d he do?”
Adrian ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it even more than it already was. “Customer took half an hour to send somebody out to unload the pallets. When a guy finally showed up, Derrick asked why, and I quote, ‘the fuck’ did it take so long to get this done. Forklift operator got in his face and it almost turned ugly before a manager, who just happened to be walking by, broke it up. The manager took over forklift duties, got the order, then called me to complain.”
“That sucks. We gonna lose the client?”
“Nah. We go back a long way, and I sweet-talked him from the edge. But I shouldn’t have to do this.” He sounded frustrated.