The kitchen was a goddamn sauna and Rox was in no mood to sit back there just because she was supposed to. The only other people who ever went back into the kitchen at the Moose Head was Kay-Kay, Coletta’s fifteen year old niece who worked when she felt like it and a repairman on the rare occasion one was actually called. Sometimes, Coletta’s brother – who was also the mayor of Mt. Arliss – interrupted his various duties (that Rox knew amounted to fucking around and jacking off) would come in and fix the clogged grease pit drain; but that was only if he couldn’t find an excuse not to and only after Coletta asked, begged, and nagged him for a few months. Before Billy was mayor, he’d been a not too successful plumber. Rox supposed he just didn’t like to be reminded of his shortcomings.
“Heh,” she laughed, lit a cigarette, and settled in on the outside stoop for one of the many smoke breaks she allowed herself when things were dead. She never took a break when the kitchen or the bar was busy. But she’d been taking a lot of break lately because business was so slow. “Heh,” she laughed again. “Shortcomings.” Before Billy was the mayor and before he was a plumber, he’d been ripe little son of a bitch who happened to be her boss’s son. One time she walked in on him – he’d been in high school at the time – with some girl. He had her on top of one of the back tables, naked from the waist down and spread eagle, ready to do his business. Rox’s interruption spoiled the mood. And not only did she have to see more of young Misty Cavanaugh – the preacher’s daughter who ended up running off to California to join a hippie cult – than she had ever wanted to see, she’d been forced to see Billy’s most pronounced shortcoming.
She let the smoke fill her lungs slowly, enjoying the moment. A few years back, she would still be busy with the lunch rush; but that was Before. Before Harold died. Before the statewide smoking ban. Before the economy tanked after the chicken plant closed. And there was always a rush on Fridays, too, after the first shift ended and everybody had their paychecks. But that was Before. And nothing lasts forever.
“Glad to see you’re workin so hard.”
The sound of Joe’s voice made her cringe whenever she heard it; and the only thing more annoying than Joe was Beth, Joes’s wife. She’d known them both for more than 25 years, and in all that time, Joe had never proven himself to be anything but a Class A Son of a Bitch. When he was younger, he liked to drink and chase women and, when neither of those things worked out in his favor, he took his frustrations out on Beth and their kids – all of whom had the sense to move away from home the first chance they got and never come back. Joe was older and slower; he knew he was too old and ugly to chase women, and he’d learned from the absence of his children that beating people wasn’t an effective way to make them love him. But he was still a nasty bastard, as far as Rox was concerned. And Beth, who stayed with Joe through it all and took his abuse, was just a dumb old bitch who probably didn’t have any sense to knock out of her in the first place.
“What’s your excuse?” She didn’t bother with the civilities with Joe, and he didn’t expect them.
“Oh, I did my work today,” he smiled.
“I thought Beth was the one who rolled you outta bed. But I guess if you managed it yourself, that’s all anyone ought to expect.”
Joe didn’t have the chance to answer her because Beth walked up from where she parked the car up the street. She looked at Rox. “You’re not workin the bar are you?”
I should tell them I am. Rox shook her head instead. “ Gary’s workin today.”
Joe chuckled. It was a hollow, humorless chuckle that reminded Rox of a death rattle. “Does he know HOW to work?”
About as much as YOU do. “It’s not busy,” Rox said, looking down at her cigarette. It was almost out.
“Let’s get inside,” Beth said, pushing Joe a little. “Before Gary decides to sit down. He may never get up again if he does.”
Joe and Beth didn’t offer a “See ya” or a “Talk to you later.” Rox didn’t offer them one, either. She took the last drag off her cigarette, crushed it under her foot, and lit another. They never ate at the bar when she was working, and the only other person in the bar was W.D. Schmidt. He never ate the bar regardless of who was working the kitchen. After Joe and Beth went inside, Rox’s hands shook a little and she shook her head. It didn’t seem to matter how many years had passed, but whenever she ran into Joe, her lower back and legs hurt in the exact same places he used to beat her Back in the Day. She pictured the young woman she’d been when, on the rebound from her first husband – who had also decided she was a good punching bag – she let herself fall for Joe’s bullshit. He’d been older; but that had been part of the attraction, probably. She didn’t blame Beth for not liking her. But she couldn’t abide any woman who didn’t have the self-respect to know when to leave.
She finished her cigarette slowly and looked in her pack. Only three more left. If I can make them last until my shift was over, she thought, I can buy another pack on the way home.
