Nobody's Fool

Camino’s ignition fit the doors to his house anymore.
    Carl got back into the El Camino and started the engine. “Shit,” he said. “All right, time and a half. Call it a Christmas bonus.”
    â€œPay me what you owe and call it honesty,” Sully suggested.
    Carl chose not to hear this. “Time and a half?”
    â€œI’ll consider it,” Sully said, though he knew he’d take it, and knew Carl knew he’d take it.
    â€œIt’s a two-man job,” Carl said, nodding imperceptibly in Rub’s direction.
    â€œI ain’t working Thanksgiving,” Rub said stubbornly, and to look at him an objective observer would have concluded that it’d be a waste of time to try to change his mind.
    â€œHe will if I ask him,” Sully assured Carl Roebuck. “Won’t you, Rub.”
    â€œOkay,” Rub said.
    Carl shook his head sadly, as if to suggest it was a constant trial, this living in an imperfect world. “I see you’re using the plywood, anyway,” he said, shifting the El Camino into gear. “Knowing you two, I’d have sworn it wouldn’t have occurred to you. I figured you’d bust up the whole first load for sure. I just came out to see if I could save the rest.”
    Sully didn’t look at Rub. He didn’t have to, having too often seen Rub’s expression when he was about to wet his pants. Fortunately, Carl Roebuck wasn’t paying attention. Sully and Rub watched the El Camino turn and bang its way back out toward the blacktop, where a dark sedan was sitting. For some time Sully had been vaguely aware of the sedan’s presence, but wasn’t sure exactly how long it’d been sitting there. When the El Camino bounced onto the blacktop and headed toward town, the sedan started up and followed.
    â€œWho do you figure was in that other car?” Rub wondered.
    â€œSomebody’s husband, probably.”
    They went back to work, silently for a while, until the pickup was all loaded and ready to go. Cold or no cold, Sully rolled down a window in the cab when Rub got in beside him. Rub was as gamy as he ever got in cold weather. “I wisht he’d
give
me that scholarship,” Rub said.
    It was nearly seven when they finally finished. They’d done the last two loads in the dark, with just the quarter moon, darting in and out of highclouds, for light and company. For entertainment Rub continued to wish. Since five o’clock he’d wished it wasn’t dark. He wished they’d stopped for dinner, especially since they didn’t get any lunch. He wished he had one of those big ole double cheeseburgers they served at The Horse, the kind with lots of onions and a big ole slice of cheese and some lettuce and tomato, so big you had to open your mouth as far as you could just to get a bite. He wished he had some of that coleslaw they serve too, and some fries, right out of the grease, so the salt stuck real good. And he wished he’d never said yes to working on Thanksgiving. Only his final wish was really worth wishing. He wished they’d thought to return Bootsie’s car to the Woolworth’s lot before his wife got off work and had to walk home, which always made her mad enough to whack his peenie.
    â€œLet’s stop at The Horse,” Rub said when they’d dropped off the last load of blocks and Sully’d paid him. Rub didn’t like to keep money lying around. He liked it to get up and work. To buy big ole double cheeseburgers and draft beers. He liked to spend it before his wife discovered he had it.
    â€œNot me, Rub,” Sully said. “I’m tired and filthy and I stink almost as bad as you.”
    â€œSo?” Rub said. It was impossible to insult him with references to the way he smelled. “It’s just The Horse. Ain’t you hungry?”
    â€œToo tired to chew, actually.” All of Sully’s earlier enthusiasm for going back to work had fallen victim to fatigue. He couldn’t imagine the optimism that had led him to believe he’d be able to do the job without Rub’s help.
    â€œAnybody’s got enough strength to chew,” Rub said.
    â€œMaybe later I’ll feel like it,” Sully said. “Say hi to Bootsie for me. Tell her I’m sorry she married such a dummy.”
    â€œI wisht I didn’t have to go home and see her,” Rub admitted, getting into his wife’s Pontiac. “She’s