“Alright, boys, let’s head up,” I said.
“Let’s take the truck,” Everett said. “I’m too damn tired to walk up that hill right now.”
“Fine by me,” I said. “I’m an old man with a bum knee, remember?”
“Old man,” Deacon said, laughing. “You know we tease you because it’s ridiculous, right? You could probably still outrun half the local high school track team if it weren’t for your knee.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sweet words now won’t stop you from owing me a lunch beer.”
“Deal,” Deacon said, hopping in the back seat.
I climbed into the passenger’s seat, which was my normal spot in both of their vehicles. They always let me sit there so I could extend the seat back and give my legs some extra room. I didn’t ever complain, but they seemed to know when I was struggling with my knee or my leg and would silently make accommodations for me. There was never an acknowledgment of it, the problem or the adjustments, and I appreciated that.
I even appreciated the teasing when that came too. I knew it came from a place of love, and they could take it as well as they could dish it out. And I dished it out often.
We pulled up to the trailer and went inside, grateful for the air-conditioning on blast. It was downright chilly in there, and I unbuttoned my shirt a little to let my chest air out while Deacon went to the fridge to grab us all cold waters.
“How about we head into town for lunch?” Everett asked as he plopped down on the couch. “I’m not feeling the salad I brought in.”
“You brought in a salad?” Deacon asked. “You know it’s not technically a salad just because there’s a strand of lettuce on your sandwich, right?”
“It’s an actual salad,” Everett said. “I eat real food sometimes, you know.”
“Since when?” Deacon asked, sounding either shocked or hurt. Since the two of them were known for eating large quantities of pizza for the last decade, I wouldn’t be surprised at either reaction.
“What do you say?” Everett asked, turning his attention to me and avoiding the gaze of a befuddled Deacon. “Let’s go have a beer somewhere in town.”
“Sure,” I said. “Lauren, why don’t you grab your stuff and come with us.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked sheepish, shaking her head slightly. Deacon and Everett began talking about which restaurant they could go to, and I leaned in close while Lauren’s eyes darted to them and then to me.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Sure, you can. Whatever you brought won’t be as good as hanging out with me.”
I wanted to sound suave and confident, but her expression looked like she was upset.
“I can’t,” she said, then lowered her voice even more. “I can’t afford it right now.”
“Oh. That’s right, you’re used to making money daily, not bi-weekly.”
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “It’s fine. You guys go.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “It’s on me.”
“I can’t do that,” she started, and I cut her off.
“It’s a perk of the job,” I said. “Think of it as the company paying for lunch for everyone once a week. That sort of thing. I’m buying the whole office lunch. It just so happens you are the whole office.”
She smiled and nodded.
“Okay. But you need to keep the receipt to write it off as an expense. Otherwise, it doesn’t count.”
“I’ll hand it right to you afterwards, and you can stick it in my folder,” I said, then frowned. “I need to get a folder, don’t I?”
“You have one,” she said. “And there’s an expense report folder.”
“Look at you,” I said. “See? Perfect. Get your stuff.”
As she gathered her things, I turned back to Everett and Deacon, who were both huddled over Deacon’s phone, scrolling through a menu.
“Salads, right there,” Deacon said. “You can eat healthy there too.”
“You seriously want to go to a wing place and tempt me with buffalo wings and expect me to eat a salad?” Everett said.
“I mean, you could always have both,” I said.
“Fine,” Everett agreed. “But I don’t want to hear a word about what beer I get. Is Lauren coming?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just need to grab my stuff and make one phone call.”
“Hey, guys, why don’t you two head on down and get us a table. I’ll bring Lauren when she’s done. I have some emails to answer anyway,” I said.
“On it,” Deacon said. “I’ll order a pitcher for the table.”
With that, the two of them bolted out, aiming to get a couple of beers in at my expense. I didn’t mind. We weren’t going to be out in the field anymore that day anyway, and they were likely going to either go home or take a nap in the office when they got back anyway.
I sat down on the couch and answered a couple of emails from prospective vendors while Lauren made her call and then stood with her bag, ready to go.