Page 143 of Bobby Green

“Doing this?” The guy used his hat to gesture to the framed porch.

“No, sir. Fucking for money.”

Oh yeah. He would enjoy the memory of that nice man’s gray eyes bugging out of his head for years to come.

“Really.”

“Yes, sir. Johnnies. Gay porn. My boyfriend works promotions.”

Eyes weren’t getting any smaller. “Really?”

“Yes, sir.”

And then a wonderful thing happened. The man’s long, weathered face was taken over with a tremendous, riotous smile.

“That’samazing. Wait ’til I tell my nephew. He’s in college, and he thinks I don’t know anyone cool. He’ll get a kick out of that. You got any posters you could sign?”

Bobby half laughed. “I can have Reg bring some home. Be happy to. You’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Be here for the next two weeks.” The guy looked the porch up and down. “You wouldn’t want a second job, would you?”

Some of Bobby’s glee leaked away. “Last time I worked construction… well, the guy wasn’t so ethical,” he said, hating that story, that time, the year before.

“I’m as honest as they come.” The guy reached into his wallet then and pulled out a card. “Here—I’m going to tuck this in your tool chest, okay? Says Charlie Swanton. Look me up. I’m reputable, and union. I’m telling you, son—I’ve trained a lot of guys on the job, but I’ve never seen anyone as young as you are with this sense of workmanship. It’s a thing you can’t teach. I’d love to have you with my outfit. We’d let you have time off for your other job and everything.”

Bobby knew his own eyes widened. “Really?”

Charlie Swanton lifted a shoulder. “You were straight up with me, man. I can’t object to that. I’m just damned impressed.”

Bobby pursed his lips and nodded, thinking about Reg’s cabinets they could replace, and furniture and siding for the outside and…

And a job that wouldn’t depend on his complete fuckability.

“I’ve got a record,” he said baldly, his voice shaking with a little bit of shame. “Just so you know.”

“What did you do?” Charlie asked, surprised.

“A cop called my boyfriend a name. I sort of saw red.”

Charlie sucked air in through his teeth and whacked his thigh with the baseball hat a couple of times. “Your temper do that to you a lot?” he asked, like this was important.

“Not after jail time,” Bobby said. “You learn a lot about defending yourself and walking the hell away.”

Charlie’s tension dissipated. “Then you’re welcome to work for me anytime. You talk to your boyfriend and call me up. You don’t even need to work full-time. I’m just saying—your work ethic, your ability, we could pay you union wages and health and dental, plus workman’s comp.” He grinned then, showing even teeth. “You get unemployment in porn?”

Bobby chuckled. “You do. Never know when you’re gonna break your wiener, right?”

Charlie guffawed and turned to leave. “You’d better call me, kid. I want to hire you already.”

“I’ll talk to Reg,” Bobby agreed. In his heart he knew he wanted to. Charlie’s outfit was where he was supposed to have ended up last year. “Part-time might be best at the beginning.”

“I can totally do that.”

Charlie left, and Bobby finished the walking part of the porch, retiring to shower right when Reg got home.

He got out, and Reg was making a giant pitcher of lemonade, which about made his day.

So did Reg, in his jeans and tight T-shirt, standing in front of the counter.