I pull up in front of the house on Ridgeview and cut off my truck. The house is one of those small, modular units, and looks like all the others on the block. This is a young and upcoming section of town, close to the college, so I can already imagine the customer inside. A newly married couple, maybe, or a bunch of frat boys sharing a place, or some rich snobby kid who could afford the BMW Roadster that glistens in the driveway.
With a sigh, I gather up my clipboard with the word order on top and slam the door behind me as I climb out of the truck. Despite the car parked in the drive, the house is too quiet, and I wonder if the prick is even home.
I gotta stop that. I’m getting to be as bad as the girls at the office who deal with the phone calls every day. Out here in the field, the c
