Chapter 8Jeremy pulled up into the driveway. The split level was simple. Second story bedrooms sat over the garage. Once inside and to the right was the family room, toward the back the kitchen and a sunporch. He parked the scooter in the garage and then dragged himself into the house.
“That was a long first day.” Jack sat on the couch, feet crossed on an ottoman, laptop on his legs, the television remote in one hand, a glass of milk in the other. “I left you dinner wrapped in the microwave. Isn't much.”
“Barry said the job's basically from eleven until close.”
“Days off?”
Jeremy dropped into the recliner, but sat forward on the edge. “He didn't say.”
“Going to want to get that cleared up. Nothing wrong with working hard, but you don't need to be there seven days a week. He stands to
