BREN
I stopped to pick up motorcycle gloves on the way to work.
My knuckles were sore and cracked, but this would have to do. I didn’t want to get reprimanded at my job for s**t they didn’t understand. I was just hoping no one would comment on it. If we were in the field, I didn’t think they would. All day in the office, though, was a whole different story.
As it was, I walked in and Shetland was behind the bowling register. He waved me over, sliding a piece of paper to me. “Go out and get those coffees. You’re going to spend the rest of the day manning the bowling lanes, and we’ll bring out a list for lunch. You can clock out at six.”
That’s all he said.
I stood there, staring at the list, but I wasn’t really seeing it.
They didn’t want me in the field or in the office all day. I wa
