Take Me On

“I meant what I said earlier. I’m looking for a bartender—a legal one.”


“What about the handyman job?” I snag another handful of peanuts. “I’m eighteen.” I’m not, but I will be soon. “And as long as I don’t serve drinks, I can work here.”

“I’m searching for someone to fix things and clean. Are you going to do that?” There’s a clear challenge in his voice.

Last week, hell no. Today? “I’m handy.” It’s true. Rachel’s the car freak, but I’m the one who fixes odd things in the house: loose doorknobs, leaky faucets, dripping toilets. I learned early because Dad was never around and the people Mom hired to do the shit never did it right. “What’s the pay?”

“Ten dollars an hour.”

Abby chokes and pounds a fist into her chest. “My bad. Go on.”

Denny scratches his jaw. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll vouch for him,” Abby says. “He’s a stupid teenager who knows nothing looking for a job. He’s obviously hungry and he’s as naive as the day he was born. I think that screams employment.”

My head snaps to Abby, but before I can tell her where to shove her vouching, she winks at me. “Denny has a soft spot for lost puppies. Trust me—no one else could give you a better recommendation.”

Denny looks me over again, then does the same to Abby. The doubt is etched on his face and I consider begging. My mind begins to section off between sanity and crazy and crazy is pulling ahead for the win.

How can I exist without food? Food means money and money means a job and a job application means a phone and an address. It’s an endless loop where if I don’t have one, then I can’t have the other.

“I could hire him.” Abby tosses a chip into her mouth. “I’ve been considering expanding the business.”

What? Haley said she was a drug dealer. No longer able to stand, I drop to a stool. Buying it is one thing. Selling it...

“You can’t feed yourself,” Denny reminds her.

The glare Abby sends him prickles the skin on the back of my neck. “My assets are continually tied up, but I know people who can pay him.”

Silence before he addresses me. “I’ve got one stall down in the men’s bathroom. If you can fix it, the job is yours.”

“Give me tools and show me the way.” My older brother Jack constantly clogged his toilet.

“Tomorrow,” he responds.

“Now that this is all Brady Bunchesque, I’m thinking finder’s fee.” That damn evil grin crosses Abby’s face.

“Haven’t you ever heard of not biting the hand that feeds you?”

“No, that would have required me to go to school regularly. The way I see it, you were looking for something and I helped you find it. I deserve some appreciation.”

They stare at each other like both of them are contemplating hitting the button that results in nuclear war. Frightening how neither one of them flinches.

“You didn’t find anything,” I say. “I came in here myself.”

Denny pulls his wallet from his back pocket and slams several bills that include zeros in front of Abby. She tucks the cash down her shirt and begins eating again like the whole exchange never happened.

“Tomorrow after school,” says Denny.

When he walks into the back, I steal the rest of the peanuts. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

“No,” she says between bites.

“Is he the reason my mom comes in here?”

She demolishes her sandwich and dusts off her hands. It’s like a curtain shade descends over an open pane and the fallen fabric produces an intricate, sad design. For a few seconds, Abby isn’t the girl I hate. She’s a girl whose outside mirrors my inside. “Has there ever been anything in your life you’ve learned that you wish you could take back knowing?”

A sickeningly sharp pain slices through my stomach, the ache worse than hunger. The serious set of Dad’s face while he told me to get the hell out and the bitter cold and loneliness of three in the morning in the car—I could do without those memories. “Yeah.”

“This is one of those things, okay? Work here, but kill your curiosity. If you can’t, then I suggest the Laundromat. I hear they need an attendant.”

It’s a numbing confession. Could the truth be that bad? “My mom’s having an affair with someone here. Maybe that guy. I can handle it.”

“If it were that easy, I would have dragged you in here last Saturday and introduced you to the issue myself. Leave it alone.”

Abby hops off the stool and steps into me. There’s nothing seductive about it unless you’re the kind of guy that likes to have your dick ripped off and handed back to you. “Tell anyone that Denny gives me food and I swear to God I’ll have you screaming like a little girl.”

I smile because I can tell she means it. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

“I’m lethal. Never forget it.”

Abby leaves with as much flair as when she’d traipsed in. Who knows if anything out of her mouth today was the truth, but her last statement... Abby probably has never uttered truer words.