“There is no one I trust more to take our firm to the next level. You’ll be making twice what you do now for base salary, plus a higher rate on commissions. Window office of course, but you won’t be spending much time in it. The boys in the big offices have turned into gluttons, leaving the real work up to the teams. Let’s put a little fire under their asses, with you leading the charge to creating a more hands-on management style here. It’s going to be a hell of an adventure. Think bigger. Faster. Flashier. Ryder, my boy, you’re going to have your work cut out for you, and I can’t wait to see what you can do with more responsibility.” Laughing heartily, Gene extended his hand. “Whip this company into shape, and in another ten years when I’m ready to retire, this office just might become yours. Congratulations.”
Ryder finished the hearty handshake and grinned his winningest smile without flinching. Carried it the whole way out of the office.
And the whole walk out of the building.
And the drive until he was out of the parking lot.
Out of sight, down the road, fast food and gas station lights flickered neon lights along the road.
He eased the car to the side of the road and clicked into park. Cheeks numb, he slammed his forehead against the steering wheel.
His head throbbed from the impact, but he didn’t care. Gravel filled his belly and threatened to heave out his lunch. He hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, and he lived in the goddamn desert.
With the promotion? He may not see the sun for another decade.
Pulling back into traffic, he glanced up to see that the night sky was black on the clear night, but not a single star shone above thanks to the metropolis’ haze. He zipped the car through traffic, his few minutes between work and home cut down by the fast machine. He probably should have gotten something smaller to zip through rush hour more efficiently, but he’d planned to spend his hard-earned dough up at Flagstaff on the weekends in winter, maybe even jet home now and again.
5
Kidney Bean
AragginglaughdraggedZoeout of the fog of her afternoon nap.
Before she even opened her eyes, she chucked the couch pillow at her brother. “Fuck off.”
“Since when do you sleep in the middle of the day? This is the third nap you’ve taken this week. And why does it have to be on the living room sofa instead of your bedroom?” Evan lifted her feet up, plopped down on the sofa, and set her feet back down on his legs.
“We’ve been so busy with the summer crowds already moving in. Sucks the life out of me.” She sat up and winced as her bra pinched into her boob, sore as if her period was trying to start. About damn time. When the monthlies called in late, they promised to rush in with a gushing vengeance. Sleep heavy in her eyes, she rubbed at the haze and squinted at the fading sunlight. “Shit, I’m late for work.”
Evan shook his head and said, “I called in sick for you.”
“It’s my kitchen. You can’t call in sick for me.”
“Too bad. Mick was happy to cover. Said something about your stubbornness. Sick or not, you clearly need some time off.”
“I don’t need time off. I just needed a quick pick-me-up snooze.”
“You can go back to work when I stop coming home to find you napping on our sofa. What if you have walking pneumonia or something?” He stared her down with the chocolatey intensity they’d inherited from their mom, the honey in his extra gooey with worry.
“I don’t have pneumonia,” she grumbled and rubbed her eyes.
“I brought home lunner.” Evan tipped a nod toward the paper Halseth’s to-go bag on the kitchen table.
She took a long sniff and caught the scent of smoked salmon. Holding her stomach, she shook her head. “Did you mess up a batch or something? Maybe you’re the one who needs a vacation. Too much time running the smokers has killed all your brain cells.”
“I don’t criticize your recipes, don’t knock mine.”
Rising to her feet, her joints arguing with the plan as each creaked their disapproval, she wandered into the kitchen. Maybe she was coming down with something. Her back hadn’t been this stiff since she’d shown off a bit too much last football season, teaching the high school whipper snappers to tackle properly.
The scent of smoked salmon increased, melty with gouda, tomatoes, and grilled sourdough. Normally her favorite, but… ugh, it wasn’t hitting her right. She opened the bag to see what he’d done to it, and the overpowering smoky scent struck her like a Mack truck of nausea.
Uh-oh. On impact, she covered her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.
Her lack of lunch retched into the toilet, hollowing her out in a second. Damn, her stomach had been fine a few minutes ago. As the nausea eased, she closed the toilet seat, pushed to her feet, and flushed.
She smeared toothpaste over her toothbrush and started scrubbing. One at a time, she polished the minty goo over each tooth, roughly over her tongue, and spit out a mouthful, the foamy sensation making her want to puke again.
Feet wobbly beneath her, she wandered back into the living room. A few more steps, and magically, the nausea was gone.