The rest of the week passed uneventfully.
Mark and I picked up trash at the carnival. Mason looked at me like I’d grown an alien head when I told him about our new job, but he didn’t say anything against it.
He only nodded and kissed my forehead. “Logan will want to work with you when he gets back, even if he doesn’t get paid.”
And at the end of every shift, Mason picked me up. But today I texted that he wouldn’t have to. When Mark and I checked in after lunch, Keifer announced we’d be manning booths today—two different booths.
“What? You think I’m a complete i***t?” he said to our disappointed faces. “No way am I letting the two of you f**k up. Don’t know the ways, both of yas too green,” he grunted, grabbing our red vests and exchanging them for carnival shirts. I got a blue one, and
