Steve, all muscle and hair, came huffing out of the woods carrying more dead limbs and branches than Boyd could lift. He dropped them next to the fire pit and mopped his forehead with his bandana. “Think this’ll be enough?”
“It’ll get us through breakfast,” Boyd said.
Charlie poked through the woodpile. “Need kindling. Boyd—”
Boyd pulled on his boots.
“Don’t get your hands dirty,” Steve said.
Boyd gave him the finger.
“I’ll wear gloves.” He disappeared into the woods.
Charlie broke a limb over his knee. “Quit trying to pick a fight.”
Steve dragged a branch to the pit. “He’s the smart ass.”
“He‘s got big problems right now.”
“Boyd always has big problems.”
“Lay off him.”
Steve dropped the branch by the pit. “He’s always taking advantage of you. I get pissed.”
“He’s not taking advantage.”
“Where did he disappear to when it was time to pay for the gas? Where was he when we were in the grocery store?”
“He’s between gigs. Doesn’t have any money.”
“And his credit’s shot. And another baby on the way.”
Charlie dropped the limb.
“Didn’t tell you, huh?” Steve said. “Sheila’s due in
October. The Starlight doesn’t like their cocktail waitresses to look pregnant. Let her go. You going
to bail him out again?”
Charlie stood straight. “None of your fucking business.”
Steve leaned a limb on the stone by the pit and stomped. With a loud crack, its upper half went flying. He moved the limb up and stomped again.
TOM'S TALES