Deliver Me

Deliver Me By J.D. Walker “Hey, Manny!” I yelled to get my boss’ attention. “What? Why ain’t you gone yet?” he barked. “What’s the address for the delivery, man? I ain’t got all night.” “Are you stupid or something? It’s taped to the damn box. What’s up, genius? Can’t read?” Lovely. “No, sir, it’s not on the box. You forgot to do it again, for, like the third time tonight.” Without an apology, Manny ‘the man’ Collins wrote the address on a piece of paper, balled it up and threw it at me before going back to the kitchen. “Get your ass in gear, Danny. You got ten minutes to get this to the customer or it’s free. That’s happened to you twice already, dude. One more time, and you’re fired.” “What the f**k, Manny? It’s not my fault for being late, goddammit. You always wait until the last minute to give me the frickin’ order!” “Nine minutes, Danny!” he yelled. God, it was so unfair. I was tired and ready to go off shift, but lucky me, I caught a delivery. Numb nuts really had it in for me, too. Didn’t know why, unless it was because I refused the not-so-subtle come on he’d tried on me when I first started working for him. As if I could sleep with someone who likely only showered once a week. Maybe he was just a miserable, delusional human being. Looking at the delivery address, I sighed with relief when I saw it was near my apartment in Edgewood. I looked at my watch. Eight minutes to go. I quickly paid the cashier for the order and then clocked out. This way, I wouldn’t have to return to the pizza parlor after the delivery. Time to use the shortcuts. My 1998 Toyota Corolla had a lot of miles on her, but Bessie was a good girl. I hopped in and used every trick in the book, including some close calls on traffic lights and stop signs to get to the address with one minute to spare. I knocked on the door, heart pounding and a little sweaty since the air didn’t work in my car. When the door opened, I gave a tired smile to the teenage girl on the doorstep. “Delivery. One large pizza, with everything.” I quoted the price. She asked me to wait a moment and shut the door. I didn’t like my boss or most of my co-workers, but this was my job, and I was determined to do it well and be polite, every time, even when they were mean to me. It wasn’t like I planned on doing this for the rest of my life, but the least I could do was give it my best shot. “Here you go.” She handed me the total, with a five-dollar tip. I thanked her, handed over the food and wished her a nice evening. Now that the night was over, I could go home and shower away the job and get some sleep. I had a class in the morning. Five minutes later, I entered my one-bedroom apartment. It was sweltering out there as only Atlanta could be in July. I had the air on at sixty-three degrees and it felt damn good. I stripped and hit the shower, the water on cold just to keep me awake long enough to clean up, brush my teeth, and hit the sack. When I finally got into bed, the clock on the nightstand flashed midnight. I sighed, knowing I would have to be up in five hours to grade the freshman papers for College Algebra. There were no bright bulbs in my summer class. Maybe it was the heat.