Status: Hey there, this is my favorite story
Lisbeth
Work
I woke up early the next morning, relieved for once that I had work. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with Destery. He was still sleeping when I padded into the kitchen at 6:15, but his hair was wet, telling me he’d already done his weird routine of going outside.
I gently shook his shoulder until he stirred, blinking sleepily up at me. “Hmm....wha’ ya want, Lis....?” he murmured, trying to hide from the light. “I’m going to work. There’s food in the cabinet, and you can call me if anything goes wrong. Please don’t call me.” He nodded into the pillow, yawned, and went back to sleep. I finished breakfast and drove to work.
My car is a beater, a pick-up truck that’s about fifteen years old with chipped green paint and an engine with a roar. It was a present to myself on my 20th birthday. Not the best car ever, but it works and it’s mine.
I pulled into work at 6:45, the rain still pouring down, shattering the light on my windshield into a million pieces. Fuck. Stupid rain. Grabbing a newspaper as some form of protection, I ran across the slippery pavement and skidded into the store, almost knocking over my boss.
His name is Ronnie, and he’s 6’3, about 280 lbs, and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, even if he looks like a serious biker with his long black beard and tattoos. Ronnie was the only guy willing to hire an American with no experience who was new to town. He said I look a bit like his daughter, Veronica, who lives with her mom.
“Hey there, watch out. Wouldn’t want you ruining the merchandise.” He steadied me easily, laughing as he did so. “I already clocked you in, so you can get to work. Shouldn’t be too busy today, weather’s supposed to be awful. I’ll be in the back if you need me.” “Kay.” I smiled at him, pulling on my employee shirt and standing at the counter.
To be honest, it’s an okay job. Maybe not what I dreamed of, but it pays the necessities and a little extra. Plus, Ronnie’s been everywhere, doing all sorts of different jobs-bouncer, bartender, roadie, the kind of jobs that require a huge tough guy with unique skills. He tells the most interesting stories when the hours get long and he wants some company. That day, though, it seemed he felt like solitude, which left me laying around dreaming of stories and memories. Some bad.
After I left college, I didn’t really plan to end up at a small town in the backwaters of Canada. Most of my life I’d lived on the border between the two countries, so I have dual citizenship, but I’m more American than anything.
I had an apartment and a boyfriend named Tony who gave me a steady supply of LSD. Not that I was addicted , honest, I have no withdrawal symptoms and I don’t even want it anymore. I had a pretty good job at a nearby photography company, a couple thousand dollars tucked away for the future.
But one morning I came home to nothing. My apartment was empty except for my clothes, my IDs, and a note. Tony had left me, sold off almost all of my stuff for more drugs. I should’ve seen how bad he was getting, but I was stupid. He even drained all the money from my account, leaving me with about 200$ to my name.
My beloved camera was gone, with all the pictures I needed for work, so they fired me. I left the apartment the next day, thankful he’d at least left my car. I spent three months on the road, sleeping in my car, working for a few days in whatever town I stopped at, until I had enough to afford somewhere cheap. I kept going north, searching for a place to live, but I was always turned away. Long story short, I ended up in Nova Scotia.
I was pulled from my memories when the door banged open to let in a costumer. I stood up, smiling in greeting. “Hi, welcome to-” but he cut me off. “Get me some cigs.” Oh shit. It was Destery’s father. He was as tall as Destery, but thicker around the waist, beer belly poorly concealed by his fancy suit. He had cold blue eyes, a thin angry mouth hidden behind his large gray mustache. I couldn’t find anything of Destery in that cruel face.
“Oh, of course, sir.” He stared me down as I reached for the cigarettes, hands shaking slightly. I not usually nervous, but the man made my skin crawl. “What kind do you want?” “Marlboro.” Damnit. We had run out of Marlboro the day before. I turned back to his chilly eyes, wincing. “Get me the manager. I want to place a complaint,” he growled. “Yes. Of course, sir.”
Ronnie was going over bills when I walked in. “Uh, Ronnie, the mayor wants to place a complaint. There’s no more Marlboros left.” He sighed and stood up quickly. “Son of a bitch, whining about everything, thinks he’s some big shot just cause he’s mayor of this shitty place. Don’t worry, Lis, I’ll take care of him.”
Ronnie walked out of the room with a scowl. “Alright Mr. Cross, what do you want?” “No Marlboros left. Not very well stocked, eh?” Ronnie frowned and folded his arms, holding Mr. Cross’s eyes. “Come back in a few days and our new shipment will be in. Until then, I can’t help you.” Mr. Cross galred at him and stalked from the store without even a reply.
As the door clanged behind him, Ronnie patted my shoulder. “Don’t let him bother you, okay? He’s not nearly as important as he thinks he is.” I nodded. “Can you stock the candy aisle? I’ll take care of the counter. Your shift ends in an hour anyway.” “Sure.”
Stocking the shelves is an easy business, leaving me even more time to worry. What if Destery had freaked out at my house, destroyed something or hurt himself? He could have tried to commit suicide again, or run away, or brought friends over. Although I found it hard to imagine Destery having a lot of friends, or even wanting them.
I gently shook his shoulder until he stirred, blinking sleepily up at me. “Hmm....wha’ ya want, Lis....?” he murmured, trying to hide from the light. “I’m going to work. There’s food in the cabinet, and you can call me if anything goes wrong. Please don’t call me.” He nodded into the pillow, yawned, and went back to sleep. I finished breakfast and drove to work.
My car is a beater, a pick-up truck that’s about fifteen years old with chipped green paint and an engine with a roar. It was a present to myself on my 20th birthday. Not the best car ever, but it works and it’s mine.
I pulled into work at 6:45, the rain still pouring down, shattering the light on my windshield into a million pieces. Fuck. Stupid rain. Grabbing a newspaper as some form of protection, I ran across the slippery pavement and skidded into the store, almost knocking over my boss.
His name is Ronnie, and he’s 6’3, about 280 lbs, and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, even if he looks like a serious biker with his long black beard and tattoos. Ronnie was the only guy willing to hire an American with no experience who was new to town. He said I look a bit like his daughter, Veronica, who lives with her mom.
“Hey there, watch out. Wouldn’t want you ruining the merchandise.” He steadied me easily, laughing as he did so. “I already clocked you in, so you can get to work. Shouldn’t be too busy today, weather’s supposed to be awful. I’ll be in the back if you need me.” “Kay.” I smiled at him, pulling on my employee shirt and standing at the counter.
To be honest, it’s an okay job. Maybe not what I dreamed of, but it pays the necessities and a little extra. Plus, Ronnie’s been everywhere, doing all sorts of different jobs-bouncer, bartender, roadie, the kind of jobs that require a huge tough guy with unique skills. He tells the most interesting stories when the hours get long and he wants some company. That day, though, it seemed he felt like solitude, which left me laying around dreaming of stories and memories. Some bad.
After I left college, I didn’t really plan to end up at a small town in the backwaters of Canada. Most of my life I’d lived on the border between the two countries, so I have dual citizenship, but I’m more American than anything.
I had an apartment and a boyfriend named Tony who gave me a steady supply of LSD. Not that I was addicted , honest, I have no withdrawal symptoms and I don’t even want it anymore. I had a pretty good job at a nearby photography company, a couple thousand dollars tucked away for the future.
But one morning I came home to nothing. My apartment was empty except for my clothes, my IDs, and a note. Tony had left me, sold off almost all of my stuff for more drugs. I should’ve seen how bad he was getting, but I was stupid. He even drained all the money from my account, leaving me with about 200$ to my name.
My beloved camera was gone, with all the pictures I needed for work, so they fired me. I left the apartment the next day, thankful he’d at least left my car. I spent three months on the road, sleeping in my car, working for a few days in whatever town I stopped at, until I had enough to afford somewhere cheap. I kept going north, searching for a place to live, but I was always turned away. Long story short, I ended up in Nova Scotia.
I was pulled from my memories when the door banged open to let in a costumer. I stood up, smiling in greeting. “Hi, welcome to-” but he cut me off. “Get me some cigs.” Oh shit. It was Destery’s father. He was as tall as Destery, but thicker around the waist, beer belly poorly concealed by his fancy suit. He had cold blue eyes, a thin angry mouth hidden behind his large gray mustache. I couldn’t find anything of Destery in that cruel face.
“Oh, of course, sir.” He stared me down as I reached for the cigarettes, hands shaking slightly. I not usually nervous, but the man made my skin crawl. “What kind do you want?” “Marlboro.” Damnit. We had run out of Marlboro the day before. I turned back to his chilly eyes, wincing. “Get me the manager. I want to place a complaint,” he growled. “Yes. Of course, sir.”
Ronnie was going over bills when I walked in. “Uh, Ronnie, the mayor wants to place a complaint. There’s no more Marlboros left.” He sighed and stood up quickly. “Son of a bitch, whining about everything, thinks he’s some big shot just cause he’s mayor of this shitty place. Don’t worry, Lis, I’ll take care of him.”
Ronnie walked out of the room with a scowl. “Alright Mr. Cross, what do you want?” “No Marlboros left. Not very well stocked, eh?” Ronnie frowned and folded his arms, holding Mr. Cross’s eyes. “Come back in a few days and our new shipment will be in. Until then, I can’t help you.” Mr. Cross galred at him and stalked from the store without even a reply.
As the door clanged behind him, Ronnie patted my shoulder. “Don’t let him bother you, okay? He’s not nearly as important as he thinks he is.” I nodded. “Can you stock the candy aisle? I’ll take care of the counter. Your shift ends in an hour anyway.” “Sure.”
Stocking the shelves is an easy business, leaving me even more time to worry. What if Destery had freaked out at my house, destroyed something or hurt himself? He could have tried to commit suicide again, or run away, or brought friends over. Although I found it hard to imagine Destery having a lot of friends, or even wanting them.