counter. I needed a break, more than anything else;
I needed time to check out the scene tonight. I
have pinned down at least five possible lays and
I’d like to get started testing out the territory in
order to see who I should concentrate on.
I dry the glasses that I’ve just pulled out of the
dishwasher and put them away on the shelf, while
Alan goes on with his vulgar jokes that I smile at
to be nice, while my cell phone vibrates
incessantly in my back pocket. I pull it out and see
my mother’s name on the display. I step away from
the counter to answer her.
“Hello, darling.”
“Mom, everything okay?”
“Sure it is!” she explains with a bit too much
enthusiasm.
“Why are you calling me?”
“Just wanted to say hi,” she says, but I can tell
by her voice that something is wrong.
“What’s going on?”
She lets out a big sigh on the other end of the
line.
“I didn’t want to call you. You already do so
much for us.”
“What is it that you need?”
“It’s for Ciara.”
“Is she well? Has something happened?” I look
at the counter and see a crowd starting to form,
customers waiting for me to get back.
“She’s fine, don’t worry. It’s for University.
