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look at cars after.
Later…
Bubba: Back.
Jake: Where the hell have you been?
Bubba: Went to Dallas with Dad.
Jake: Did your phone break?
Bubba: No. Just needed some time.
Jake: You talk to Frankie yet?
Bubba: I’ll talk to her tomorrow.
Jake: You need to call her.
Bubba: She got a dress.
Jake: We know. Call her.
Bubba: No.
Jake: Bubba.
Bubba: I said no. You guys
all went too far, too fast.
She’s hurting. She needs room to
breathe.
Jake: Yes, she is. She thinks you broke up with her.
…
…
…
Jake:Now you’re ghosting me again.
Jake:Look, I don’t know what all is going on,
but talk to us.
Chapter Two
Nobody Taught Us To Quit
“Wrap up your last order,” Marsha said, nodding to the shake I had mixing. “Then you can close out.” It was literally fifteen minutes early. Not that I was complaining, but I shot my manager a quizzical look. Marsha was awesome. Had been awesome last weekend when I was coming apart at the seams. Had covered for me to get out away from the guys and promised me time off when I needed it, because she didn’t want me to miss anything in my senior year.
She definitely rated as one of my favorite people ever. Hard not to when she took the time to check on me—all thisaftergiving me this job almost two years earlier when I really had zero experience.
“After you wrap up, come in the back, okay?” She patted my shoulder and then hustled on. Most Sundays, we were busy as all get out with the post-church crowd, and today had been no exception. But the hustle diminished in the last hour, and the dinner rush hadn’t begun. It was a good time to call it done. I’d managed to get most of my sidework done, so I didn’t even have to finish that.
