Chapter 40

Friday, June 8

The rest of Friday afternoon was uneventful, but busy.

I tried to explain the finer points of the crew to Fabrice and Jeremy as we made our rounds, making sure they knew to stay hydrated and that they had the freedom to cool off with a quick shower and change into fresh clothes as needed. I took them to the snack bar to introduce them to Charlie and the rest of that crew. Even though the kickers would mostly handle restocking, I explained about taking orders. I made sure they each had a menu and a copy of the sheet with Charlie’s codes for each item.

For the most part, it was just a matter of paying attention to the patrons and keeping up. We had enough guys on hand today that we were able to rotate at regular intervals to keep them from getting overheated and allow for lunch breaks. It was starting to look like our 2 p.m. shift change during the week would be our main mealtime, a little before for those coming on and a little after for those getting off. But weekends were going to be different. Letting one or two guys at a time have a break to eat over several hours appeared to be the most workable solution.

My biggest task of the afternoon was greasing up little Molly on multiple occasions, giving in to her demand — “Up!” — to be thrown over my shoulder each time. I explained to Jeremy and Fabrice that a little extra personal attention seemed to go a long way when it came to pulling in more tips.

As we were passing No. 16, Arlene couldn’t resist having her fun.

“Looks like you’ve got another girlfriend,” she grinned, nodding in Molly’s direction.

“I don’t know,” I said, making sure I had Morgan’s attention. “She doesn’t seem to listen any better than the one I have now and her bedtime’s too early for me to spend much time with her. Plus, her mother’s always around.”

My girlfriend without the early bedtime just blushed and kept her mouth shut.

As the day progressed, I began to learn more about my two new coworkers. Fabrice’s story was especially interesting. His family was among the first arrivals in our area of what had become a rather large and well-organized refugee community backed by local churches.

His parents were originally from the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo, which was not to be confused with the Republic of Congo. Fabrice explained that his parents’ homeland was a former Belgian colony and the other Congo had been a French colony. His parents had fled to Tanzania when violence from civil wars in Burundi and Rwanda had spilled over the border and his parents’ clan had been caught up in it.

Fabrice’s parents were from the Banyamulenge tribe, an offshoot of the Tutsis, the targets of the Rwandan genocide. The wealthier Tutsis were in a centuries-old struggle with the more numerous Hutus. The Banyamulenge were targeted because of the connection.

“My people left their original homeland on the east side of the river to escape the violence more than 200 years ago and settled on the west side of the river,” he said. “The violence followed them.

“The sad part is the Tutsis and the Hutus aren’t that different, basically cousins. But one is determined to not let the other have all the wealth and power, and the other is determined to keep what they have. It’s much like your Hatfields and McCoys.”

Fabrice had actually been born in France, one of the Paris suburbs. His family moved to Canada before he reached school age and finally to this part of the world before he started junior high. Fabrice’s dad was a medical doctor who spoke seven languages. Fabrice himself spoke four — English, French and two tribal languages — and was quickly picking up Spanish from his Hispanic soccer teammates.

“There are times I’m the only one on the pitch who grew up speaking English,” Jeremy said. “It’s like a little United Nations out there.”

Jeremy said his family history was much less interesting.

“The first Porters in my line came over from Scotland just before the American Revolution, but kept their heads down and stayed out of it,” he said. “They didn’t have any connection to the colonies and they didn’t have any love for the English.”

I knew nothing about my family’s background beyond the fact that Grandpa Robinson’s great-great-grandfather had come from Tennessee sometime after the Civil War. The Robinsons had been on the same piece of land ever since. I’d have to check with Grandpa and see what he knew.

We stayed busy right up until the lifeguards whistled the last kids out of the pool at 6 p.m., then spent another hour cleaning up around the cabanas and restocking.

Kacie, Morgan and their friends had gone home about 5:30, Morgan telling me she’d better spend an evening at home after being out late the previous two nights. Arlene was staying for dinner in the main dining room. She had brought a change of clothes in her tote bag and was using the facilities in her cabana to get ready.

I led Jeremy and Fabrice on one last round to check on things before going home. They would be handling restocking duty by themselves Saturday while I resumed the roving role that had me doing a little bit of everything.

I got home a little after 7:30 to find Kacie by herself in the family room, already dressed to go out in her denim miniskirt combo.

“Go get cleaned up,” she said. “Mom and Dad are having a date night, so we can, too. I already told Mom we’d be out past 10.”

Having already showered at the pool, I just gave myself a quick wipe with a damp washcloth, brushed my teeth and put on some clean clothes — cargo shorts and a polo. I held the car door for my sister for the first time, then went around to the driver’s side. Before I even got buckled in, Kacie had the glovebox open.

“At least you got Morgan’s panties out of here,” she said.

I lowered the top, cranked up and asked my sister where she wanted to go. She selected a little place that was basically Mexican fast food, but a couple of levels up from Taco Bell. The place was mostly tacos and burritos, but got as fancy as beef, chicken and shrimp fajitas along with an assortment of salads.

We shared an order of nachos and made quick work of our entrees. Since the place was in the same center as our Dairy Queen, Kacie decided to forego sopapillas for a Blizzard, grabbing my hand to lead me across the parking lot. As we worked on our treats, my sister asked me if I’d do something for her before I took her to see Arlene’s apartment.

“I want to go to a drug store, but not one anywhere around here,” she said. “Like the time you took me and Morgan to that other Dairy Queen.”

I wondered what she could possibly need from a drug store — praying it wasn’t a pregnancy test, forgetting for the moment her period had just ended — but agreed and told her to pick a place and navigate. We took off as soon as we finished our ice cream, Kacie giving me directions to head east for several miles. I don’t know how many pharmacies we passed before she told me to turn in at a Walgreens a good 20 miles from home.

Kacie had conveniently left her purse at home and asked me for $40 to get what she wanted.

“It won’t cost that much,” she said. “I just want to make sure I have enough.”

I stayed in the car while she went in to make her purchase. It was a good 15 minutes before she returned, clutching a plastic bag to her chest. She offered no explanation, only telling me to go to Arlene’s.

It was almost 9 o’clock when I turned in to Arlene’s drive and pulled into my little parking space. I put up the top on the off chance a stray rain cloud or flock of birds might wander overhead, then helped Kacie out of her seat and led her down the walk to my den of iniquity.

I unlocked the door and held it open for my sister, reaching over her shoulder to hit the light switch. She stepped inside and looked around, drinking in the decor and furnishings.

“I like it,” she said. “And Arlene’s just giving this to you?”

“For certain considerations,” I said. “I did help her clean it up and Morgan helped with the decorating. I’ll probably be doing chores and odd jobs for her until she finds a new toy.”

I showed Kacie the rest of the place, such as it was. She had to open all the cabinets and the refrigerator, which had been stocked with sodas and nonperishable snacks, and checked out the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

She grabbed her bag of purchases, shooed me out of the bathroom and told me she’d be ready in 10 or 15 minutes.

“Go watch TV or something,” she said, closing the door on me.

Before I got to the easy chair and TV, I could hear both the sink and tub faucets running wide open. I picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. It looked like Arlene had several premium channels, but I settled for ESPN so I could check out the scores. The local baseball team was on its way to a home loss, having wasted a leadoff homer by giving up four runs in the second inning.

I heard the toilet flush several times as the water continued to run. I was going to have to return Arlene’s birthday check to pay the damn water bill at this rate.

Eventually, Kacie emerged wrapped in a towel and carrying a couple more. She still had her Walgreens bag, which looked somewhat depleted.

“Turn on that lamp in the corner and turn off the overhead,” she said.