Thanks, son.”
Keeping one hand on the wheel, the driver bent over, grabbed the gun, pulled the plastic off with his teeth and stuffed the gun into his jacket pocket.
A second later he looked to his left and said, “Thank you, Jesus and all the little baby Jesuses in Jesustown.” He turned the wheel hard, swinging the big truck around and backing it against the loading dock of an old brick warehouse. It was too dark and wet for Gabriel to read the name of the place.
The driver climbed down from the cab the moment the truck stopped moving and disappeared around the side. Gabriel listened to the sound of the trailer door opening and boxes sliding out. The driver appeared by his window a moment later, pushing a dolly loaded with boxes and gesturing for Gabriel to follow him in.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
He didn’t want to get out of the truck and back into the rain, but Gabriel climbed out and followed the driver. After a few steps the old man stopped.
“Grab this for me, will you?” he said nodding to the dolly piled with boxes. “I got to find the damn paperwork.”
Gabriel tipped the dolly back, letting the load settle onto his body. It was surprisingly heavy. The old man was stronger than he looked. He’d have to remember that.
As they reached the door, the driver gave a loud “Aha!” and pulled a pink packing slip from his right rear pocket. He held the warehouse door open for Gabriel and followed him in.
A balding man with a beer gut and ballpoint pen behind his ear was counting boxes on a loading pallet and ticking off boxes on a piece of paper on a clipboard.
The driver called out, “What’s the good word, Sonny?”
The balding man looked up and his face broke into an easy smile.
“How are you doing, ramblin’ man? Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”
Gabriel watched them shake hands and talk bullshit. Annoyed, he stood the dolly upright, tired of holding the weight.
“Who’s the sprog?” asked Sonny, glancing at the boy.
The driver held out his hand in Gabriel’s direction.
“This is Gabriel. He’s helping me out tonight.”
Sonny held out his hand and Gabriel shook it.
“Any friend of this road hog is welcome around here.” He turned back to the driver. “What’ve you got for me tonight, good sir?”
The driver handed Sonny the paper he’d fished from his back pocket. Sonny attached it to his clipboard, glanced at the dolly and nodded. He pointed to an open area near the pallet he’d been counting earlier.
“You can drop those right over there, son.”
I’m not a goddamn pack mule, thought Gabriel, but he kept quiet, not wanting to end up back in the rain. He leaned the dolly back, rolled it to where Sonny had indicated and began unloading boxes. It was late in the week, Gabriel knew. Friday night or maybe even Saturday. There was only a skeleton crew working. Just five other men spread out through the warehouse. As he unloaded the boxes, he listened to Sonny and the driver talking in low voices, laughing occasionally. He wondered if they were laughing at him. They wouldn’t be laughing if he pulled the knife. He could have it out in less than a second if he wanted. He’d had plenty of practice and knew all the places you could pigstick a man without hitting bone.
He walked back to where Sonny was examining the paperwork. The bald man nodded to him.
“This feller’s been telling me you might go out on the road with him. Looking for somewhere sunnier. I don’t blame you. Me, I like the cold, but everyone’s got to find their place in the world.”
“Amen to that,” said the driver.
Sonny ticked off a couple of boxes on the delivery slip, signed at the bottom and tore off a carbon. The driver folded it up and slid it into the same pocket from which he’d pulled the original.
He started to turn away, but stopped.
“I forgot the other thing, Sonny.”
“What was that?”
The driver pulled the gun from his pocket so fast that Gabriel didn’t
Keeping one hand on the wheel, the driver bent over, grabbed the gun, pulled the plastic off with his teeth and stuffed the gun into his jacket pocket.
A second later he looked to his left and said, “Thank you, Jesus and all the little baby Jesuses in Jesustown.” He turned the wheel hard, swinging the big truck around and backing it against the loading dock of an old brick warehouse. It was too dark and wet for Gabriel to read the name of the place.
The driver climbed down from the cab the moment the truck stopped moving and disappeared around the side. Gabriel listened to the sound of the trailer door opening and boxes sliding out. The driver appeared by his window a moment later, pushing a dolly loaded with boxes and gesturing for Gabriel to follow him in.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
He didn’t want to get out of the truck and back into the rain, but Gabriel climbed out and followed the driver. After a few steps the old man stopped.
“Grab this for me, will you?” he said nodding to the dolly piled with boxes. “I got to find the damn paperwork.”
Gabriel tipped the dolly back, letting the load settle onto his body. It was surprisingly heavy. The old man was stronger than he looked. He’d have to remember that.
As they reached the door, the driver gave a loud “Aha!” and pulled a pink packing slip from his right rear pocket. He held the warehouse door open for Gabriel and followed him in.
A balding man with a beer gut and ballpoint pen behind his ear was counting boxes on a loading pallet and ticking off boxes on a piece of paper on a clipboard.
The driver called out, “What’s the good word, Sonny?”
The balding man looked up and his face broke into an easy smile.
“How are you doing, ramblin’ man? Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”
Gabriel watched them shake hands and talk bullshit. Annoyed, he stood the dolly upright, tired of holding the weight.
“Who’s the sprog?” asked Sonny, glancing at the boy.
The driver held out his hand in Gabriel’s direction.
“This is Gabriel. He’s helping me out tonight.”
Sonny held out his hand and Gabriel shook it.
“Any friend of this road hog is welcome around here.” He turned back to the driver. “What’ve you got for me tonight, good sir?”
The driver handed Sonny the paper he’d fished from his back pocket. Sonny attached it to his clipboard, glanced at the dolly and nodded. He pointed to an open area near the pallet he’d been counting earlier.
“You can drop those right over there, son.”
I’m not a goddamn pack mule, thought Gabriel, but he kept quiet, not wanting to end up back in the rain. He leaned the dolly back, rolled it to where Sonny had indicated and began unloading boxes. It was late in the week, Gabriel knew. Friday night or maybe even Saturday. There was only a skeleton crew working. Just five other men spread out through the warehouse. As he unloaded the boxes, he listened to Sonny and the driver talking in low voices, laughing occasionally. He wondered if they were laughing at him. They wouldn’t be laughing if he pulled the knife. He could have it out in less than a second if he wanted. He’d had plenty of practice and knew all the places you could pigstick a man without hitting bone.
He walked back to where Sonny was examining the paperwork. The bald man nodded to him.
“This feller’s been telling me you might go out on the road with him. Looking for somewhere sunnier. I don’t blame you. Me, I like the cold, but everyone’s got to find their place in the world.”
“Amen to that,” said the driver.
Sonny ticked off a couple of boxes on the delivery slip, signed at the bottom and tore off a carbon. The driver folded it up and slid it into the same pocket from which he’d pulled the original.
He started to turn away, but stopped.
“I forgot the other thing, Sonny.”
“What was that?”
The driver pulled the gun from his pocket so fast that Gabriel didn’t
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