Chapter 3 #2
“Hey, Chase,” Miller said as he stepped inside, a cooler bag swinging from his hand. “Has Danny got that grill clean yet?”
“Yeah,” I said. “He went out to get beer.”
“Great.” Miller took a little too long searching my expression with his gaze. “Are you okay?”
“Yup,” I said and turned away from him before his concern could turn my answer into a lie. “You want a soda, or do you want to wait for Danny to get back with the beer?”
“I’ll take a soda,” Miller said.
And pretty soon after that, everyone else turned up and the cookout began.
Because of my fucked-up shift work, I couldn’t sleep that night after the cookout.
I lay in bed anyway, listening to Cash breathing, and stared at the ceiling.
The blanket on the window had fallen down and the trees outside moved in the breeze, and shadows and moonlight made shifting patterns for me to watch.
And then, just because I couldn’t sleep, my dick decided it was the right time to get horny.
I wasn’t even thinking about anyone or anything in particular, just watching the patterns on the ceiling.
I tried to ignore it for a while, but it wasn’t the sort of hard-on that was gonna go away on its own, so I pushed the covers off me and crept through the dark house into the bathroom.
I flicked the lock on the door and reached into the back of the bathroom cabinet for the bottle of lube that lived there.
I wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but it was like the milk in the fridge—someone always replaced it when it ran out.
I’d never bothered to ask who kept it stocked.
Danny probably. I squirted some into my palm and shoved my sleep shorts down under my balls and wrapped a slick palm around my dick.
I braced myself against the wall with one hand, closed my eyes, and started to jerk myself off.
The sound of skin on skin filled the small bathroom as I replayed one of my favorite jack-off videos in my mind, the one that normally got me off.
Except tonight it wasn’t doing it for me.
The guy was too perfect, all smooth waxed skin and gym body.
Instead I found myself picturing a familiar face with dark hair, broad shoulders and thick thighs, and a hint of a soft belly—and holy shit, I was getting off to Brown Jacket Guy.
I didn’t even have time to be weirded out because as soon as I pictured those big hands of his on me, all my nerves lit up like a Christmas tree and then I was shooting my load all over my hand, almost folding in half with the intensity of it.
I stayed bent over like that while I recovered, my breath rasping out of me. Once my dick had gone soft, I cleaned myself up and tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened. I didn’t even like Brown Jacket Guy, and suddenly he was my new fuckboy fantasy?
I splashed some cold water on my face and sucked in a lungful of air, then exhaled slowly.
It was fine. He was kinda hot in a scruffy way and he ticked all my boxes.
I could admit that. He was bigger than me, and for whatever reason that got my motor running just right.
Plus I liked how he didn’t take my bullshit, even if I bitched at him about it.
And hey, if he was gonna be a pain in my ass while I was working nights, it was only fair that I got to use him as jerk-off fodder, right?
It wasn’t like he’d ever find out.
I dried my face and crept back to my room and got into bed. I was relaxed and sleepy now I’d taken the edge off, and my eyes were already closing when the blankets lifted and Cash crawled in beside me, resting his head on my chest like he always did. We fell asleep like that.
On Thursday night I was back at work, so bored out of my mind that I spent an hour dicking around with the big box of fuck-ugly souvenir goose statues that Bobby had ordered but that nobody ever bought.
I sorted them into opposing armies—flapping geese versus running geese—and staged a fake war, just to kill time.
Then I made myself a hot dog, because there was one lone hot dog sitting on the roller grill and nobody ever wanted that one.
Probably for good reason. Even I didn’t know how long it had been sitting there—since before my shift had started at ten, at least—but it tasted good and it stayed down, so it was probably fine. I’d eaten worse.
I checked the clock. It was almost 5:00 a.m. Well past when Brown Jacket Guy would usually turn up bitching about the pastries and my coffee.
Brown Jacket Guy hadn’t been in all week, and I was pissed about it.
It wasn’t like I wanted to see him or anything—I hated that guy—and I definitely wasn’t thinking about him just because I’d jacked off thinking about him over the weekend.
Just, at least when he came in, it was a change from sitting behind the counter and trying not to think about the odd rustling noises that I could hear coming from the storage room.
He hadn’t really bought a coffee machine like he’d threatened, right?
I yawned and went back to my chair behind the counter.
We’d had two customers all night. One of them was Morris, who was the town drunk.
He was still bumbling around outside somewhere near the pumps.
They were switched off, though, so it wasn’t like he could end his current bender in a ball of flames or anything.
And Morris was okay. He didn’t drive when he was drunk.
Since he was always drunk, that meant he never drove.
He usually just staggered all the way out here from town to buy cigarettes, told me he remembered my father from school—he didn’t, he just said that to everyone, even the gas pump just now—then asked how he was doing before he staggered his way back to town again.
If he was still here in an hour, I’d probably think about calling someone to come and get him.
I just wasn’t sure who, because it wouldn’t be the cops.
Maybe I’d call Bobby.
I’d been hoping he’d come into the gas station so I could ask him about switching back to days but I hadn’t seen him all week either.
Normally he dropped in to check that things were running okay, but it figured that the one time I needed to talk to him he didn’t show up.
Danny had said something the other day about him being busy with the store he was renovating in town and I should just call him, but I’d put it off.
If I happened to see him and casually mention that I was getting bored of working nights, that was one thing, but if I went out of my way to ask him to switch my hours, that was as good as admitting I was desperate.
And it was never a good idea to show anyone how much you wanted something. Gave them leverage.
But if he didn’t turn up soon, I’d have to make the damn call. Cash wasn’t sleeping, and watching him get quieter and paler, I knew I needed to suck it up for his sake—even if it meant I’d owe Bobby a favor.
I didn’t like that the list of people I owed shit to was always getting longer.
I’d told Cash that once, and he’d called me an idiot.
And okay, yeah, it wasn’t like Danny or Wilder were gonna suddenly turn into demanding assholes just because they’d put a roof over our heads this whole time, and it wasn’t like Bobby was an asshole either, but you didn’t know.
You didn’t know until you’d already made the deal.
I chewed my thumbnail and stared out the grimy windows to where Morris was still having a conversation with one of the pumps. He waggled a finger and nodded, so whatever they were discussing, at least they were in agreement.
Headlights swept into the parking lot, illuminating Morris and his pump buddy before a familiar red truck pulled up in one of the parking spots near the door.
Bobby climbed out and went over to where Morris was blinking at him and swaying.
He gave Morris a hearty handshake, then gestured toward his truck.
Morris staggered over to it, and Bobby held the door of the cab open for him.
Morris climbed into the truck bed instead.
Bobby shrugged and headed for the store.
“Morning, morning, morning!” he called as the doors opened. “It’s a beautiful day!”
“It’s still night,” I said.
“Anything past midnight is a new day,” he said, rubbing his hands together and grinning like the maniac he was. “How about you make me a coffee? Nothing hits the spot like one of your coffees, Chase.”
Like, if by spot he meant a corrosive hole burned through the lining of the stomach, then sure.
I could do that. I went behind the counter and turned on the machine, and since Bobby was watching intently, I did my best to figure out what the buttons actually did.
A green light normally meant it was good to go, right?
I jabbed at the machine, and nobody was more shocked than me when a stream of rich black coffee poured into the cup.
I just hoped he didn’t expect me to do anything with the steamed milk or we were both gonna be disappointed.
I held out the cup. “You take it black, right?”
“That’s what I like about you, Chase. You pay attention to detail.” His grin widened. “Customers like that!”
I mean, I didn’t, and so no, they didn’t. But I nodded like I agreed. And hey, if my shitty coffee and shittier customer service made him happy, that was good news for me. I took a deep breath and said, “So, I was glad you dropped in. I was wondering if I could ask you something?”
Bobby took a sip of coffee and made a pleased noise. “Shoot, kid.”
“I was hoping I could get back onto day shifts,” I said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. “Danny said Wade might want to swap with me.”
“Shoot,” Bobby said again, his expression falling.
“I was in here just last week and Wade asked to stay on days, on account of his wife is expecting.” But before I even had a chance to let my disappointment show—or worse, my anger—Bobby scratched his chin.
“Lemme think for just a second. Days, hmm?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to sleep with all the guys there and Gracie as well.”
“Well, I don’t think I can swing it, unfortunately,” he said with a long sigh. “I mean, not without you leaving Goose Run Gas, and I know nobody wants that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. Was he firing me? Was this what being fired felt like? I’d always expected it to feel better than this, because I legit hated customer service. But it didn’t feel good. Not at all. It felt more like having my legs kicked out from under me.
“Yeah,” Bobby said, sounding despondent. “Sorry, Chase.” He paused and took another sip of his coffee. “Seems like you’ve really got this new machine locked down.”
“Oh yeah,” I lied. Not that it mattered if I did or not.
Bobby hummed and looked between me and the coffee machine. “You know, if you really want to work days, best I can do is offer you the counter spot at Gobble de Goose.”
Great. Now I was having a stroke. Or he was. Because Bobby was making sounds that should have been words, but I had no idea what he’d just said.
He looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, and I figured out that he was waiting for an answer.
I was tempted to say yes purely because he’d mentioned days, but like hell was I signing up for anything when I didn’t know what it was—especially where Bobby was involved. “What’s a gobble whatever the fuck?”
Bobby laughed. “Gobble de Goose! Ain’t it a great name?”
“Yeah,” I said doubtfully. “But what is it?”
“The new bakery,” he said and puffed out his chest. “I finally hired a baker to run it, so if I can get the coffee counter up and running, we should be good to open in around a week. You interested?”
Hell yeah I was, but I didn’t want to sound too eager. “I mean, I guess. As long as I’m getting paid the same.”
“Of course. Maybe even a little more, truth be told. I tell ya, this place won’t be the same without you,” Bobby said.
“But you’re wasted as a barista here. It’s high time more people got to try your coffee!
So, tell you what, you can finish up here this Friday, take the week off, then be at Gobble de Goose on Main Street for opening day. How does that sound?”
It took a second to process what he was saying, but it sounded like he was offering me a job. Except—a week off? Who could afford that?
As usual, my mouth was running away with me before my brain had a chance to say, Thank the nice man and then shut the fuck up, Chase. “I can’t go a week without pay.”
Bobby’s brow creased. “What? No! A paid week! Gobble de Goose ain’t quite ready to open, but I don’t want you running off and getting a job at one of those fancy coffee shops in Brodnax.
” Like he really did believe I was some prize-winning barista and he’d have to fight to keep me.
Or that Brodnax had any coffee places approaching fancy.
Bobby was delusional. But at the same time, a week off, a job in a brand-new bakery with no rats in the stockroom, and all day shifts?
It sounded fucking amazing.
“I need to think about it,” I said, because I never let anyone know how much I wanted something.
Like, there was no way I was turning this down because it was a dream come true, but I couldn’t say that.
And then I remembered the time Bobby had showed up to our birthday with money for us both.
And the bike he’d given me to make sure I got to work on time.
And I figured that I might be an asshole, but I didn’t have to be an idiot as well.
Bobby was a good guy. Weird as fuck, but an incredibly good guy.
Like, with Bobby, what you saw was what you got.
It was kind of unsettling, honestly. I took a deep breath.
“You know what? That sounds awesome, Bobby, thanks.”
“You’ll be great, kid,” he said. “Now, if you wanna pay me back…”
My stomach clenched reflexively, the way it always did when I heard that, but Bobby was still talking.
He jerked his thumb in the direction of the pumps and grinned. “You can help me get Morris into the front of my truck, and I’ll drive him back to town.”
And just like that, I could breathe again. Because this was Bobby, and he was safe.
“Yeah, no problem,” I said with a laugh and followed him outside.