The rest of the weekend went somewhere, but damned if I know where. I stayed drunk for most of it and wasn’t in very good shape on Monday morning when Chris dragged me out of bed and shoved me into a cold shower. They had an opening on his construction crew, and he was going to make damned sure I got it. Needed help with the rent real bad, I guess.
The foreman took a long look at my sick, pasty face, but gave the okay anyway. Man, that first day was pure torture. I probably didn’t give a nickel’s worth of help, but racked up eight hours nonetheless. By Wednesday, I figured I was as good a hand as they had.
When they paid after the shift on Friday, Chris refused my money, saying I needed some shoes and work clothes. I could pick up half the rent next month.
I really got to like the guy.
