Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I crossed the street at Frank’s Barber Shop and hoped Luisa was working this morning. She let me use Ma’s senior discount without my even asking for it. She knew what it was like. Our situations were similar; only, she and her son could live with her old man.
Technically, I could stay with my mother too, but… No. I knew what would happen. I knew Ma. I knew what kept her up at night.
The parking lot at Caputo’s was pretty empty this early in the day, and that boded well for me. The mornings were the best if you wanted to grab produce and bread on clearance.
That’d be an irresistible dating profile for Trace to swipe past. Check me out, digging for quarters and buying stale bread.
A familiar tightness spread across my chest, and I let out a breath.
My phone didn’t even support swiping. I wasn’t on social media or whatever the kids used to avoid people out in the wild.
Once inside, I grabbed a basket and started with the hunt for cheap bread. Thanks to Trace sharing his win with me yesterday, I wouldn’t have to touch my emergency fund of a whopping twenty bucks in my bank account.
I frowned to myself as I checked the shelves with plastic bags filled with about-to-expire rolls and loaves, and I decided against it. Ma had oil, salt, and baking powder. I’d buy flour instead. Either Ma could bake something, or I could whip up some pan bread. Alvin liked that anyway.
In the produce section, I had better luck. I found carrots, onions, and celery on clearance, and they were running a promotion on potatoes and the kind of apples Alvin preferred. I scratched my forehead, running the numbers. Six potatoes, two onions, one pound of carrots… I knew we had stock cubes left. If I’d had enough battery, I would’ve called and checked if Ma had cornstarch. On the other hand, you could thicken a stew with flour too, and I was already buying that.
That settled it.
I walked past the meat, ’cause that wasn’t fucking happening, and I went down the aisle with canned goods.
I wondered if I could buy pretzel sticks and maybe some store-brand Nutella…
No. Fuck no, I’d be pissed at myself for a whole week if I did.
For the same amount of money, I could get several of those cheap frozen pizzas Alvin loved. It wasn’t fucking pizza, but they were a buck fifty a pop, so I wasn’t going to deny him.
Half an hour later, I was back on the other side of the tracks, and I walked up the path to the two-flat where Ma and Alvin lived. I spotted Alvin in the window, and he waved at me.
I smiled and waved back.
My little neighborhood watch. He demanded to keep his computer close to the window so he could look outside whenever he wanted to.
He bolted from his chair, and I headed inside and up the stairs.
I fucking hated only seeing him once or twice a week. It was like this every time I was out of a job.
Winter couldn’t be over fast enough. I was so done. I had built up a decent network over the years, and they always called me when they needed extra help. But this time of year…? I was lucky if I racked up a week’s pay in a month.
I remembered when contractors and construction workers were drowning in work. But tax hikes, larger companies leaving the city, expensive improvements in safety protocols, the fucking economy, and higher cost of living were all factors killing our industry. Productivity had never been lower, and I couldn’t recall a worksite in the last decade where work hadn’t stopped at some point because of a shortage or budget issue.
I’d tried to branch out, but my résumé was hardly impressive these days. Suits wanted to see degrees and shit like that. Now, I could point out a house and say I’d led the entire project, from blueprints to the passing of the inspection, but did they care?
Jagoffs.
I’d been the family plumber and electrician since my early twenties. I’d learned along the way because that was what you fucking did. Or used to. I was all right under the hood of a car too, and I’d installed more AC units than some fresh-out-of-school punk with a slip that said he’d passed a class.
I blew out a breath and shook all that off for now. I was going to spend the day with my boy. The work hunt continued tomorrow.
I knocked twice, and Alvin ripped the door open immediately and lit up. Hell, so did my heart. I missed him every day I didn’t get to see him.
“Hi, Dad! Oh—you have a new coat.”
And you’re still in pajama bottoms.
I smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “Hey, small fry.” I squeezed him tight and kissed his temple, ignoring a twinge near my wound. “You’re usually dressed by now.”