Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [97]
Red crossed his arms and glared down at Brady. “What do you take me for?”
“A great boss. I’ve enjoyed working for you and I want to learn more, learn to get ahead, like you.”
“You’re so full of it, you can’t even see straight.”
“I’m serious, Red. Give me a chance to prove it.”
“Listen, Brady. You’ve been nothing but a bad apple since the day you started. You don’t listen; you don’t cooperate; you don’t follow instructions. You do as little as possible to get by. All you care about is punching out and collecting your pay. Well, the last of your pay is in your pocket.”
“C’mon, Red! You’re right, I know, but I see how wrong I’ve been. I want to start over, to make things right. I’ll even work New Year’s for you!”
“Don’t you read? Don’t you listen? We’ve told the staff, and it’s all over our windows for the customers. We close at midnight New Year’s Eve, and we reopen for breakfast January second.”
“Well, I’ll work New Year’s Eve, then. That’s time and a half, isn’t it? I need all the income I can get, now that I’ve decided to make this my only job.”
Red shook his head. “You think I’m as dumb as you are, and that’s insulting. You think I don’t know all the trouble you’re in? Everybody knows, man. Dropped out of school, in hot water at the trailer park, suspected of pushing drugs, and you were never foreman of anything. I’ve even got parents of workers here calling me, telling me to watch out for you, that you’re trying to get their kids to smoke dope.”
“No way! I would never do that! I got a little brother myself, you know, and—”
Red held up both hands. “It’s over, Brady. Just cash your check before headquarters calls in a stop payment on it. And do yourself a favor. Take that line you were trying to shovel me and try it somewhere else. Only mean it this time.”
Brady hung his head. “All right, Red. But let me just ask you one more thing. I promised I’d bring my brother a shake, and I got no money, not even any change till I cash this check.”
“Tell you what I’ll do, Brady, if you’ll promise to think about what I said. Since that’s a company check, I’ll cash it for you. And on top of that, I’ll give you the shake.”
“For real?”
“My word is my bond, Brady, a policy you ought to adopt.”
Brady handed over his outfit and followed Red out to the counter.
“Excuse me, Mike,” Red said to a behemoth teen manning one of the registers. The kid, six foot six and on his way to three hundred pounds, stepped aside as Red used his key to open the register. “Give Brady a shake,” Red said as he counted out Brady’s money.
“Flavor?” Mike mumbled.
“Strawberry.”
“Ninety-nine cents,” Mike said.
“I got it,” Red said.
And Brady headed back out into the cold, unemployed and broke, save for forty-eight dollars and change.
Adamsville
Thomas Carey found himself in a good mood that evening after dinner, so convinced was he that God would answer his prayer—and those of so many others—and make a trophy of one who had to rival the apostle Paul when he was Saul, the murderer of Christians, as “the chief of sinners.”
Grace seemed more cautious, but late that night as they were getting ready for bed, she softly sang:
Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?
Was it for crimes that I have done
He suffered on the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree. . . .
As he lay in bed, hearing his beloved’s breathing fade to the deep cadence of sleep, Thomas read through the entire book of Romans, which he had committed to memory years before. After each chapter he turned the Bible over and silently recited it word for word. He prayed Henry Trenton would change his mind, even as late as when he reached the top of the gallows stairs, and would allow Thomas to quote the sacred words of redemption.
Finally he laid his Bible on the nightstand and shut off the light, turning onto his back with his hands behind his head. Romans