Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [82]
By noon he had learned that none of the places had any manager or assistant manager positions open. In fact, they didn’t even have supervisory roles. But each place offered him a job, including a cheesy vest and jaunty cap, if he was willing to dunk fries and wrap burgers and learn the cash register.
Burger Boy offered ten cents an hour more than the rest, and he could work 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Friday. At that rate, he could pay off Tatlock, pay his room rent, and start saving for a car. The trick was going to be keeping this from his housemates. If they knew he had work, they’d want more rent.
He could tell them no one was hiring, but what would he do with his yellow and white Burger Boy outfit? Maybe he could stash it at Stevie Ray’s. He’d leave it in a box under the steps and pick it up on his way to work and drop it off on his way back. Then he could go straight to the forklift truck and get in his shift at Dennis Paving.
Alejandro finding him more work couldn’t come soon enough. It was going to take every last ounce of Brady’s dignity to stand behind a counter looking like an Up with People singer.
Brady arrived at Stevie Ray’s and told his wife he’d just wait outside till Stevie got home. She brought the baby out and sat on the steps next to him.
“What’re you up to these days, Brady? Still getting hammered?”
“Nah. That was just a one-time thing. Sorry if I kept you up.”
“You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last.”
“Just got a job managing Burger Boy,” he said.
“No kidding! Good for you.”
He told her where he was living and that he didn’t want to make his coworkers jealous. Brady laid out his plan of how to hide the uniform each day.
“No problem with me,” she said. “But what do you care what they think? You should tell them to buzz off. Just ’cause you’re more industrious than they are is no reason for them to be jealous. If you can get a job like that, so can they.”
“You’re probably right. After a while I’ll tell them, but meanwhile . . . ?”
“You can leave it here every day, sure.” She looked at her watch. “Gotta get Stevie Ray’s spaghetti on. You want to join us? We’ve got plenty.”
29
Adamsville
Thomas was alarmed to arrive home from work and find Grace napping. He actually bent close to be sure she was breathing. She was normally a light sleeper and roused at any noise, especially if he was moving about. But now she did not stir.
Thomas changed and headed to the kitchen to prepare them a light supper. Surely she would hear him eventually. But this was good, right? She needed her rest. He chastised himself for agreeing to let her wait two weeks before seeing a doctor.
Thomas brought a tray in to her with tea, soup, and a grilled cheese sandwich. He set the tray on her bedside table and put a hand on her shoulder. Nothing. He carefully sat between her and the edge of the bed. Her breathing remained even and deep.
Noise, movement, the smell of food, his touch—nothing woke her?
Thomas sighed and moved into the living room, where he phoned Ravinia. As usual, she sounded rushed. But she fell silent when he informed her of his concerns.
“As long as she’s resting, let her, but, Dad, you can call a doctor yourself. Who cares if she gets upset? It’s what’s best for her.”
“What does it sound like to you, Rav?”
“I don’t know. Something in the blood? Some kind of a deficiency? She’s too young for it to be age-related. Likely something easily treated. Keep me posted, will you?”
“Of course.”
“And I suppose you’re eager to know how Dirk is . . . ?”
Thomas had to smile. Caught. No, he had not been wondering about Dirk’s welfare. He had been guilty of avoiding the elephant in the room. Thomas was hoping and praying for a miracle, that Rav would come back to her faith, that Dirk would become a believer, that they would marry. “Yes, how is Dirk?” he said, painfully aware that his awkwardness was obvious.
She laughed. “Fine, thanks. I’ll tell him you asked.”
“When will we be seeing you again, Rav?”
“You never know. I might be coming your