The Broken Road by Evans Richard Paul

The Broken Road by Evans Richard Paul

Author:Evans, Richard Paul [Evans, Richard Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Inspirational, Age Range 2 Older Audience, Romance, Adult, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781501111785
Goodreads: 27221483
Publisher: Simon Schuster
Published: 2017-05-02T07:00:00+00:00


When we got back to her street there was a brown Ford Ranger truck parked in her driveway. Its bed was crowded with lawn mowers and other landscaping implements.

“Looks like your yard guy is here,” I said.

Monica laughed. “I’m the yard guy. You think I can afford to have someone mow my lawn? That’s Ryan. Carly must have told him about you. He really is desperate.”

As we walked up to the house, a tall, twentysomething man with light-brown hair and a receding hairline got out of the truck. I could see his resemblance to Carly.

“Hey, Ryan,” Monica said.

“Money,” he said. “You know how long I’ve been here waiting for you?”

Money?

“Then maybe you should have made an appointment,” Monica threw back.

He walked toward us and we met at the center of the front lawn. “This the guy?” he asked, looking me over.

“I’m Charles,” I said.

“Charles or Chuck?” Before I could answer he said, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll come up with a nickname for you anyway. How old are you?”

I fudged my age a bit. “Eighteen.”

“Let me see your hands.”

“Do you always say that when you first meet someone?” Monica asked.

“I’m a palm reader,” he said.

“It’s cool,” I said. “I get it.” I raised my hands. “You know, Jesse James used to ask the people he was robbing to show him their hands. If they had workingman’s hands, he wouldn’t rob them.”

“I always knew I had outlaw blood in me.”

“Charles really does,” Monica said. “Jesse James was his great-great-great-grandfather.”

“Really,” Ryan said. “So judging from your hands, you work for a living.”

“Yes, sir. My father does yard work. So do I.”

He turned to Monica. “Did you hear that? He called me sir. I like that. No one in California has manners. You don’t know any Spanish, do you?”

“Some,” I said. “Hablo español lo suficiente para sobrevivir. Comprendo más de lo que hablo.”

“That’s pretty good. High school Spanish?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“So Monica told you that I’m hiring.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you start tomorrow?”

“I could start tonight.”

“We’re not working tonight. We start at five forty-five a.m. That a problem for you?”

“No. I always got up early to work.”

“Good. It gets hot here. We start early so we can siesta during the heat of the day. Be waiting outside. Nothing makes the crew madder than waiting around for someone, and you don’t want to start your first day on the wrong foot.”

“I’ll be ready. What’s the pay?”

“Eleven dollars an hour.”

I glanced at Monica then back at him. “Monica said you paid twelve.”

“Monica’s not signing the checks.”

Monica crossed her arms at her chest and looked at him indignantly. He glanced at her and then breathed out. “All right. Let’s see how you do.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” I said.

“Good. I hate being disappointed. See you mañana.”

He got back in his truck and drove away.

After he left, Monica said, “Sorry. Carly told me twelve.”

“I’ll get twelve,” I said. “He calls you Money?”

“He has a nickname for everyone. He calls Carly Carl’s Jr. It’s just his thing. He’ll have one for you.” Her brow fell.



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