The next morning, Roane met the foreman. Flannery didn’t impress him much more in the rising sun than he had the night before. He came waddling over, a scowl on his puffy, blotched face. “New hire?”
“Yep. Roane Wellman. The hiring agent told me to report to you when I got here, but it was after quittin’ time when I drove in last night.” No use letting on I saw he was drunk or stoned or whatever.
A pair of young Latino men flanked Flannery. One was almost too pretty to be real, very slender with big dark eyes, long curling hair, and clothes far too new and clean to work in. The other had a pockmarked face and a ratty, sly manner, but still didn’t look like he was prepared to put in a day at hard labor. A faint odor of pot smoke lingered around all three of them. Neither of the Latinos sai
