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I wouldn’t usually even notice.
But Jen’s face changes the longer she’s on the phone, and pretty soon, it’s clear that her coming home with me isn’t what her mom has planned for her.
“…But I already told you, Mom,” she says in a low voice, flushing with annoyance.
“I told you and thatmanagerI was taking some time off. I haven’t had a real day off in months. This isn’t fair!” she huffs, even letting go of me and storming off to pace as her conversation escalates into an argument pretty fucking fast.
Jen’s not the kind of girl to make a scene, but I’m the only one around to see it unfold. She’s doing her best to keep quiet, but once I see how upset she’s getting, I can’t stand by and watch.
Jen’s face drops when I lift the phone from her hands, taking charge of things myself.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned running oil rigs, it’s how to handle a crisis.
And as well as being a future in-law, Jen’s mom, Sage, is the only thing threatening to bring my plans for today undone.
But I’m not gonna scream and shout about it.
No. That’s not nice. Nor is it gonna fix whatever the actual problem is.
And with a little…okay, a lot of my personal charm, I get the full picture from Sage over the phone.
Yes, Jen does have time off, but the manager at the diner has come down with something, and they need all hands on deck.
I listen attentively, rubbing Jen’s arm before pulling her close as I talk things through with her mom, who’s also managed to calm down quite a bit.
“I hear ya, Sage. I really do. Just that… Well, I think Jen’s a bit upset because Abby’s just now flown off to New York. She’s already kinda promised to help me pack up some of Abby’s things. This job in New York is bigger than we thought, and she might be moving there for a whole twelve months.”
It’s a made-up story on the fly. But it sounds believable to my ears, and Jen’s mom has no problem taking it in.
She’s not overly worried about Jen staying over to help even. Her real beef is needing someone to come to help her for the next few days at the diner she works at.
Hardly a life or death thing, but I know what it’s like to be on your feet all day. Carrying other people.
“I’ll tell ya what,” I tell Sage as if I’m doing her a personal favor, which I guess I kinda am.
“I’ll make some calls and let you know within the hour about having someone come down to help. How about that?” I ask her, after reminding her that I’ll be paying Jen for her time too
We agreed I’d pay Jen before she called up with her diner dilemma.
That’s my story anyhow, and I’m trying to stick with it.
For both Jen’s sake and my own.
If I don’t empty this seed into her soon, my junk feels like it’s gonna turn fucking blue and just drop off.
Half expecting to be told where to get off, I’m not totally surprised when Jen’s mom actually warms to the idea.
“You mean it?” she asks, sounding relieved already. “I mean…you could do that? Just call someone up and have ‘em come help out?”
“Sure,” I tell her confidently.
Because I can.
I can and will, even if it means hiring someone from a temp agency.
But I know enough guys and gals, past and present oil company employees.
They always know someone or have a kid themselves who wants to make a few extra bucks.
