I was feeling exhausted. Remember, I had been hopped on coke for the last few weeks. I wasn’t used to relying on my own energy sources, and I was dropping. My days were typically a lot less workful, and I liked it just fine that way. For one second I considered throwing my scrub brush down and telling them all to fuck off. Two things stopped me.

The first and most important was that I had enough money to get my ass where it needed to be waiting at the end of this shitty summer work deal. The second was that once I walked out of those double doors, I didn’t have one person to call and pick me up. Lylee’s house was more than two hours away. Short of taking my chances hitchhiking, I didn’t have a way to get back home. And this isn’t exactly an area where a good-looking guy can feel comfortable sticking his thumb out on a dark road. So I picked up the scrub brush and went to work with Will until Tony himself came in.

He was as big as a damn grizzly bear. He had Cadence’s green eyes, but, other than that, he was all bushy red-blonde hair, like a gigantic Viking. He stood with his arms crossed and watched us work for a while. Then he said, “Good job, guys. Will, when this batch is done, you’re free to go. Brian, come and help Will finish. Saxon, you come with me.”

He didn’t look back to see if I followed him, but I did. ‘Cause he scared the shit out of me, though I didn’t like admitting it.

We went to a little back room, and I was hoping he didn’t plan on beating my ass in, because there was no escaping. At all.

He sat behind a neat desk in a big leather chair and nodded for me to sit across from him. “Did your father explain what you’re going to do here?”

I shrugged. “Work, I guess.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Call me old-fashioned, but I expect younger people to call me sir when they address me.” His voice was like the voices of the guys they always use as the scary military ops guys in movies.

“Work, I guess. Sir,” I ground out, keeping my mind focused on the small fortune that saying ’sir’ was going to get me.

“Yes.” He steepled his fingers like some kingpin and nodded. “We’re open six days a week, Sunday to Saturday. You’ll have Mondays off, but those will be spent running Great-Aunt Helene’s errands with her. You’ll have access to her car to drive her. You will take her wherever she needs or wants to go, and that will last all day Monday. Clear?”

“Yes.” He glared at me. “Sir.”

“Here, at Tony’s, you’ll start as a dishwasher. But there’s room for you to move up. There are better jobs here, but every single person starts as a dishwasher, at least for one shift. I think it’s important to know what the most menial laborer is doing. It helps foster respect among the workers. Your shift will be closing, so you won’t have to come in until five, and you’ll stay until around midnight. My daughter, Pamela will drive you home with some other workers every night. Do you have any questions?”

“Do I get paid? Sir.”

“You do.” Tony’s mouth finally curved into a smile. His eyes were all sparkly, like a wolf that just saw a fat deer wander into its path. “But that money goes directly into Aunt Helene’s bank account. Room and board, of course. You’ll get your lump if you last the summer, won’t you?”

I stood then. “Yes.” I grinned. “Sir.”

He stood too, stuck his hand out and we shook. He was trying as hard as he could to break my hand. I had to blink hard to keep my God damn eyes from tearing.

“Good night son. Good job today.” That was out of fucking left field.

“Thanks. Sir.”

I walked out to the kitchen, and Will showed me a bin where I could throw my apron. I washed my arms and asked for Pamela.

I was pointed in the direction of a fairly beat-up black Jetta. A tall girl with reddish hair and eyes like Cadence’s was leaned against the driver’s door, talking on a cell phone. There was a boy, maybe fifteen, playing with the dials on the stereo, which was pulsing with some kind of rap. He had Tony’s coloring and looked about as tall as his dad, but a good two hundred pounds lighter, and Tony was no fat ass. And there was Cadence herself, counting a thick stack of what looked like twenties. Holy mother load.

I walked up to the car. Cadence looked at me, her eyes narrowed and she turned to Pamela.

“Crack head’s here!” she called. Pamela snapped her phone shut and climbed in the driver’s seat.

“Get in!” Pamela called out the driver’s window.

I slid in the back seat, next to Cadence. She didn’t even look over at me.

“I thought you lived a few blocks away,” I said.

Pamela looked at me in the rearview mirror and smiled. It might have been the first real smile I’d seen all day, and I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t make my heart jump a little. This job was turning me into a fucking pussy. “We do. Live close. But it’s late, and I don’t get to drive much, so Dad humors me. How was your day?”

I was a little shocked by her friendliness. Cadence rolled her eyes and leaned forward. “Don’t engage the druggie,” she said to her sister. “He’s a lowlife.”

Pamela smiled at Cadence indulgently. “She’s mean, right? So, how was your day?”

“Okay,” I lied. “Dishwashing sucks.”

“Seriously,” the boy said. “I’m Jimmy.”

“Hey, man,” I said, and we shook hands. “Nice to meet you. You dishwash, too?”

He laughed like a donkey braying. “I’m a slave. I do whatever my mom tells me to.”

“Your mom?” I asked.

The car got quiet. Pamela looked at me. “Our dad, it seems like he runs the show. But our mother is the real muscle. Don’t mess with her. Do what she says. Always. I’m not kidding. And don’t ever backtalk her. Ever.” The car stayed ominously quiet.

“Um, okay.” Weird! “So she’s really scarier than your dad?” I asked.

“My dad is Mr. Fucking Rogers next to her,” Cadence quipped. “She had a day off today, so she’ll be in tomorrow. And she’ll be ready to meet you.”

That made every one of them laugh like a bunch of lunatic hyenas. I felt a little chill on the back of my neck. Good God, what the hell was I in for? Suddenly the car lurched to a stop. It was a narrow, dingy row-house type building, depressing and dilapidated.

“This is your place, Saxon,” Pamela said. “Do you need a ride in tomorrow?”

“Do you mind?”

“No problem. Be ready by four thirty. I’ll swing by.” She smiled again. “Have a good night.”

I paused and smiled back at her. “Thanks, Pamela. You guys, too. Good night.” My manners might be a little rusty, but I had them.

I walked up to the door quietly and let myself in. It wasn’t locked or anything. The kitchen was dirty yellow. The light fixture flickered and there was a note on the old avocado-colored fridge in chicken scratch.

Dear Saxon,

There is a plate for you in the stove.

Love, Aunt Helene

I felt a weird twinge when I read that note. I opened the stove, which was on warm, and saw a plate with meat loaf, carrots, and mashed potatoes. Jackpot.

It occurred to me then that I hadn’t eaten a thing all day, though I’d been at a restaurant. I figured I was probably entitled to things like meals and breaks, but that was all something I could figure out another day. I took the plate to a small table covered in a dingy plastic tablecloth that looked like it was for Christmas or something. I opened the fridge and found a twelve pack of Dr. Pepper, unopened. I wondered if Aunt Helene had picked it up because I was coming. It was a weird thought, and one I didn’t dwell on for too long. I grabbed a soda and sat down in the flickering light to eat. When I was done, I put the plate in the sink, but that felt kind of dick, so I washed it and my fork and left them on the counter. Aunt Helene had been cool enough to leave me dinner; I wasn’t going to make her clean up after me.

I walked down the hall and saw Aunt Helene’s room. She was snuggled in her bed like a wrinkly little doll. There was a tiny bathroom next, where I noticed she had put my toothbrush out, and then what I guessed was my room. It was dark and small, but the old twin bed was made with scratchy cotton/poly sheets in boy blue. It’s not like I have tohave silk sheets or anything. It’s just that I always have hadsilk sheets. And they’re damn comfortable.