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“Roger that.” The phone call now over, my mood has changed in the few seconds since I answered it.
I want to kick the bar, but I don’t. It will only injure my foot, and the boss won’t give a crap.
“What the fuck, man! We were supposed to be off the job for a week. My mom is going to be pissed as hell when I call her to say I’m not coming home again.” Bull slams his whiskey glass down on the bar.
“You’re still on leave, it’s only this lucky idiot who has been called in,” I say, pushing my phone back into my pocket.
“Wait, what? Why has he only called you in? Who are you working with?” Bull looks like he is about to explode with questions.
“Buddy, how long have you been working this job? You know I don’t have any clue until I show up in the morning.” I roll my eyes at him.
Normally we would both be jumping all over this shit, and both be wanting to get on the job now. Bull would be annoyed that he didn’t get called in, and I would normally be feeling sorry for him being left out. But after the last job, which was a big one, we could have both done with a break. Even a few days would have been nice. We only clocked off last night. So, part of me is at least happy for Bull to get that break.
“I know, I’m just frustrated that they haven’t even given you time to take a breath from last night. I get it, they must be short if they’re calling you in, but still, we can’t work at our peak if they don’t give us a break.” I can see Bull’s shoulders are tense and fists clenched.
“Thanks for looking out for me, buddy, but I’ll be fine. You know how it goes. No rest for the wicked, and I have been called wicked more times than I can count.” We look at each other and start to laugh, my comment having the desired effect of breaking the tense moment.
“I’m not even going to ask who has called you that, because that may open the door on way too many stories that I don’t want to hear.” Bull slaps me on my back, picking up his glass and downing it in one mouthful.
“Oh, shit, that must have burned.” I watch him, waiting for his reaction.
A flick of his head tells me I’m right.
“Well, that will help me sleep if nothing else. This one’s for you,” he says to the bartender, pushing my glass back across the bar to him and slapping cash down on the bar to settle our tab. The guy probably isn’t allowed to drink on the job, but it made Bull feel like it wasn’t wasted.
Walking out the front door together, we both look for a taxi. Bull flags one down that was up the road, parked.
“You call me if you need me and I’ll be there, no questions asked.”
“One of us may as well get the break. Just let me know when you’re back from your parents’ place.”
As the taxi pulls up in front of us, Bull moves with purpose and speed until we're toe to toe and his face is close enough to mine that he is almost kissing me, and that’s not something I ever want to contemplate.
“I don’t give a flying fuck where I am. If you need me, you better call me. That’s what we do, and I know you would expect the same from me. So don’t give me that bullshit.” The emotion in his eyes is one of anger mixed with friendship and even as close as brotherhood.
“Understood,” is all I reply, nodding my head.
As much as I want him to rest, I know if I need help, his is the first number I’ll call.
“Now, can I go home? Because apparently according to the boss, I need to get my beauty sleep for tomorrow. Which in my mind means they are needing my technical skills, as well as my pure muscle,” I say, flexing my arm as I push him into the backseat of the taxi.
“Well, then they are out of luck if that’s what they're looking for in you.”
Laughing out loud, I jump into the front of the taxi. “Take this loser home first. He must be drunker than I thought, he’s become delusional.” Rattling off Bull’s address then mine, we are on our way, and all the talk about work has stopped until we pull up out front of his apartment.
None of us have anything very big or very permanent. No pets or plants, because we never know how long we will be home for—tonight being the perfect example.
His hand lands on my shoulder from the back seat as he gets ready to open the door. “Remember what I said. Call me, no matter how big or small.” With that, he is out the door, and it's slamming shut. He taps on the roof, letting the driver know he is good to pull away from the curb again.
Bull’s a good friend. I lay my head back on the headrest. It's not far to my place, but my thoughts are already drifting to what I’m going to be walking into tomorrow.
I’ve never felt frustrated and anxious about a job, but for some reason, tonight I feel on edge. Maybe I’ve been in the game too long, I’m losing my touch.
Or it’s as simple as I’m exhausted.
I guess tomorrow we’ll see, won’t we.
Cassie
