When I return to deal with the spill there is a customer at the counter. Her light brown hair is cut in an unkempt bob and she looks familiar. She’s probably around forty years old and while her buttery yellow leather coat looks expensive, her faded jeans and dirty white sneakers do not. Ben listens to whatever she is saying with a strange expression on his face. He glances outside and scowls at the sight of a man standing by the door and spitting on the ground. The woman says something in a low voice and Ben nods. She reaches out a hand with long pink fingernails and moves a piece of hair from his forehead but there’s nothing inappropriate about it. It’s more like the way a parent would touch her child.
I swish the wet mop across the floor and wait until the woman leaves before stating the obvious.
“So that’s your mom.”
Ben shoots me a look and then frowns. “Yeah.”
I wait for him to add to the comment but he doesn’t. He cleans the counter with a spray bottle.
“But that wasn’t your dad standing outside, was it?”
The scowl returns. “No, that’s her latest dipshit boyfriend.”
I squeeze the wine-soaked mop into the bucket. “So it’s just you and your mom? No brothers or sisters?”
He sets the bottle down with a thud and uses a blue cloth on the counter. “None.”
“I know you moved here the year I transferred to Black Mountain but I can’t remember where you’re from.”
“That’s because you never asked and I never told you.”
Ben sure does have this cranky hot guy act down pat. I make an effort not to roll my eyes.
“Where are you from, Ben?”
He turns around to straighten out the rows of cigarettes and chewing tobacco.
“Chicago area.”
“No kidding?” In spite of his grumpiness I’d really like to hear more. “I’ve always had a thing about Chicago. The University of Chicago used to be my dream school.”
He looks at me over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “And now it’s not?”
“No. I – well, I can’t move so far away. But is that where you were born? In Chicago?”
His expression shutters. Almost like a switch has been flipped inside his head. His head swivels once more to regard the wall of tobacco and he answers without looking at me.
“Yeah. I was born there.”
He’s lying.
The thought pops into my head and it’s an odd one. Ben would have no reason to lie to me about where he was born. We’re not even friends. He doesn’t care what I think. Yet something about his tone seems off. My dad always teases me about having intuition, which makes it sound like I possess a supernatural talent. I don’t. But ever since I was little I have planned to be a serious journalist someday and so I make an effort to detect clues in the world around me. I think of my future career as something similar to detective work. The objective is the truth. And based on Ben’s quick answer and the way he broke eye contact, I don’t believe he’s telling the truth.
I take the bucket in the back to dump the dirty water into the sink. The floor is as clean as it’s going to get so I rinse off the mop and put everything back where I found it.
By the time I emerge from the stockroom Ben is no longer behind the counter. He’s got his shirt rolled up above his elbows and he’s messing with one of the self-serve coffee machines. I don’t want to notice his forearm muscles or the broadness of his shoulders but I do. In fact I come to a full stop and spend a few seconds looking him over. No matter his attitude, Ben Beltran looks damn good in jeans and common work boots.
I’m staring.
I’m know I’m staring and I can’t stop.
And when Ben turns around he sees that I am staring.
I clear my throat and shake the moment away. “So what did you really tell the McGills to get rid of them? I doubt they were really influenced by a few bags of potato chips.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”
“But they did come in here looking for me?”
“Yeah, your name came up.”
My heart sinks a little bit. No one who knows the McGills would enjoy the idea of being on their radar.
Ben notices my distress. “Look, they won’t be bothering you.”
I’m curious. Ben’s a big, strong guy. But the McGill brothers are criminally evil. I doubt they’d back off just because he tells them to.
There’s no time for additional questions because the bell above the door jingles and Dee Cushing appears with a clipboard in his meaty hands. I’ve seen pictures of him in my father’s old yearbook, back when they were on the football team together at Devil Valley High. He’s gained over a hundred pounds since those long ago days but his face remains perpetually cheerful. He brightens even more when he notices me.
“Camden! Good to see you. Tell your old man we miss him at our Friday night poker games.”
I smile because Dee is a nice man. “I know he misses the games too. He’s just been working too much and doesn’t have time.”
Dee’s cheerful look fades slightly. “And how is Adela?”
“She’s happy to be finished with her latest round of treatments.”
Dee nods but now his eyes are troubled and the smile he flashes is unconvincing. “That’s good news.”
“I hope so.” I’ve lowered my head and I’m extremely aware that Ben is listening to every word being said.
Dee tries to lift the mood by referencing old times. “When you were little you used to come by almost every Saturday. You’d plunk down your quarters and demand two cinnamon candy sticks. And whenever me or Diane tried to slip in some extra candy you’d shake your head and refuse. You never wanted something for nothing. Diane would always carry on about how you were the smartest little girl she ever saw.”
Diane Cushing is another lifelong citizen of Devil Valley. She and Dee have no children of their own and she often used to babysit for me in those long ago sad days after my mother died and before my dad met Adela.
“Hey!” A light bulb goes off in Dee’s head as he looks to me and then to Ben. “I forgot you and Ben go to school together at Black Mountain. You must be friends.”
Ben speaks up before I have a chance. “Not at all.”
“Oh.” Dee is surprised but quickly recovers and smiles at me once more. “So what are you doing out and about today, Camden?”
I don’t want to say this in front of Ben but I swallow my pride. Quite literally. I feel it slide down my throat in a jagged lump.
“I’ve actually been out job hunting but I haven’t had any luck. Do you know anyone who’s hiring?”
Dee doesn’t respond right away. In fact he scratches his nearly bald head and gazes down at his clipboard as if he’s deep in thought. Finally he nods and looks up.
“You know what? I’m going in for knee replacement surgery next week. Diane’s nephew will be helping her manage the place while I’m on the mend and Ben over here picks up the rest of the shifts but we could use some additional help for a while. Paperwork, inventory, that kind of thing. If you’re interested I can promise twenty hours a week for the next couple of months.”
Dee’s offer is extremely generous. While it might be true that the store could use a little extra help if he’s having surgery next week, I know that he’s doing me a favor in honor of his lifelong friendship with my father. And I’m in no position to turn down a favor.