Pandemic

Chapter 2

Chapter 2How the heck could Wednesday have rolled around again so fast? He’d go have dinner with the family, and he really hoped he wouldn’t have to hear again how disappointed Bill Cavey was in Laurie’s work. It was bad enough he wouldn’t hear the end of how disappointed Louise was he hadn’t asked her for another date.

They’d had a good time—Lync had taught him how to dance, and Louise reaped the benefits of that. She’d gushed on and on about how none of the other boys she’d dated could hold a candle to his footwork, and he’d been a little annoyed at being referred to as a boy. He was twenty-five, after all. He did think she’d been laying on the praise with a trowel, though.

Afterward, when he’d walked her to her door and she’d raised her mouth for a good night kiss, he’d pecked her on the cheek, babbled about what a nice evening he’d had, and bolted without saying he wanted to see her again.

He’d probably have to promise Mom he’d ask Louise out again. Geez, if he didn’t watch his step, he’d wind up married to her. And while she was nice enough—there was that damned word again—he preferred Lync to Louise. They were both fun, but Lync had a big d**k, although Laurie would never say as much to anyone.

He was done for the day now, and he’d have to hustle if he didn’t want to be late. He was about to enter the work shanty to store his tools and hardhat in the gang box when Bill Cavey came up to him. “Hold on a minute, Parkinson.”

“Boss?” Oh, geez. What was he going to yell at Laurie about this time?

He handed Laurie an envelope. “Here’s your paycheck.”

“Uh…this isn’t payday.”

“No, this is your last day. I’m sorry, but times are slow, and I’ve got orders to cut back.”

“But a lot of the guys are out sick.” Everyone seemed to be coming down with this spring cold or whatever it was. If Laurie could just hold onto his job for a few more days, just until he could get another job—

“Like I said, we just don’t have the work.”

And of course Laurie would be the first to go. Pop was going to kill him when he found out his only son had lost this job. Pop’s parents had grown up during the Depression, and they’d pounded it into him never to leave a job no matter how much you didn’t like it, but most of all not to get fired. Pop had done the same with all his kids, and Laurie felt sick at the thought of how he would react.

“I’m sorry,” Cavey said again. He actually looked as if he regretted having to let Laurie go.

“Yeah.” Laurie took the envelope, stuffed it in his pocket without bothering to check if they’d taken out for his union dues; he’d do that later. Just then all he wanted was to get out of there. He grabbed up his tool belt, shoved the company-issued hardhat at Cavey, and didn’t wait for him to say anything more—really, what else was there for him to say?

He headed out to the almost empty lot where his piece of s**t car was parked. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said a lot of the guys were out. At least half the crew had called in sick.

The crappy piece of s**t finally started after a bunch of tries, and it rattled down the road away from the jobsite. He couldn’t face his parents today.

“Screw it,” he told himself, and he deliberately turned off his phone. “What you need, my friend, is a drink or six.” Instead of heading for his apartment, he made a left and drove into town. It was early, but that meant the white-collar guys wouldn’t be at Joe’s for another couple of hours.

A quick stop at his bank, and he cashed his last paycheck. The company must have been feeling generous. They’d paid him an additional two weeks, although it was probably to make up for the vacation he wouldn’t be able to take because he needed to look for another job. Once he put the money in his wallet, he got back into his car and headed for Joe’s.

As Laurie suspected, the parking lot behind the bar only had a handful of cars in it. He brought his piece of s**t to a stop, turned off the ignition, and got out. He didn’t bother locking it. Only an i***t would want to steal this rattletrap. And if they wanted his tool belt that badly then they were welcome to it.

* * * *

“You’re not planning on driving home, are you, buddy?” the night bartender asked.

“Huh?” Laurie raised his head and blinked at the two men standing behind the bar. He shook his head and blinked again, relieved when the two morphed into just one man who stood watching him patiently.

“I said you’re not planning on driving home.”

“Oh. Uh…No. I don’t live too far from here. I’ll walk.”

“Okay. You might want to go. I’m closing.” He held up a hand as if to keep Laurie from giving him grief, although Laurie hadn’t planned to say a word. “You’ve been the only one in here for the past hour and a half. I mean I know it’s Wednesday, but that’s never stopped my regulars before. I’m losing money.”

“Yeah. Right.” Laurie looked around. The bartender was right. The place had been like a morgue earlier, and now it was empty. “I’ll just…” He put a few bills on the bar.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.” He got up from the stool, located the front door, and wobbled toward it.

“Hey, can you make it home?”

“Sure. G’night.”

“Well…‘Night.”

Just as Laurie reached the door, he heard an explosive series of sneezes from the bartender. “Bless you.”

“Th-thanks.” The bartender sneezed again.

“Welcome.” Laurie opened the door and stepped out into the balmy night air. He peered down at his watch, then held it up toward the streetlight, trying to make out where the hour hand was on the face.

Geez. It was almost one in the morning. Where had the time gone? He hadn’t even been having fun. He should have called to let Mom know he’d be missing dinner. She and Pop would probably have a fit.

He couldn’t go home, not now. Maybe not ever. He was a failure, in every sense of the word. But where could he go? In spite of what he’d told the bartender, his apartment wasn’t close—it was on the other side of town—and he was in no shape to drive. He supposed he could call for a taxi, but Laurel Hill was too small a town for that kind of service. Folks were more likely to rely on friends or neighbors for a ride. He took out his phone to call Jo. She was the one sister he could count on, the only one who looked like him, with the same strawberry blonde hair and violet eyes, while all the others were brunettes. They’d both heard the “teasing” remarks that the milkman was their father, which was stupid. Who even had their milk delivered anymore?

He pressed the screen, but his phone didn’t light up. Dammit. The battery must have died. He glared at it, then put it away. He’d have to come up with something else.

He looked up and down the street. It was empty of cars. Well, at this hour on a weeknight, most people were home in bed. Except for Lync. He’d be at work for the night. That was another reason why they hadn’t been able to make it work. Lync worked nights at the Laurel Hill Mall, while Laurie worked—used to work—days. But Lync’s apartment was nearby, it would be empty, and Laurie knew where Lync kept a spare key. And he was pretty sure his former boyfriend wouldn’t mind too much if Laurie crashed at his place.

He turned and started walking down the street, then had to stop and turn around. Lync’s apartment was the other way.

* * * *

It shouldn’t have taken Laurie as long as it did to get to Lync’s place, but that alcohol on top of an empty stomach played havoc with his balance as well as his sense of direction. Finally he arrived at the building where Lync lived. Laurie rounded the corner and stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the small apartment on the second floor. He managed to climb the stairs without putting his foot through a riser and lifted the welcome mat when he reached the top. It was such an obvious hiding place, no one would expect anyone with half a brain to use it. Sure enough, though, the key was there.

Laurie unlocked the door, put the key back under the mat, let himself into the tiny apartment, and closed and locked the door, then made a trip to the bathroom before he fell headfirst onto Lync’s bed. The pillow smelled of Drakkar Noir, the aftershave Lync always used, and for a second, Laurie felt a stab of loneliness. They’d had good times. If only Lync could understand his fear of coming out of the closet.

Well, there was no point in crying over closed closet doors now. Laurie wrapped his arms around the pillow, cuddled it as if it were a lover, and fell asleep.