Chapter 14

He even brought out some of his grandmother‘s nice dishes from storage and placed a fresh box of baking soda in the fridge.

All he had left to do was turn on the air-conditioner so that the house would be cool by the time they arrived. After that, he hoped they wouldn‘t be too needy. He had no intentions of babysitting them.

Now more than ever he was a busy man. Job searching hadn‘t been easy. He‘d put in applications and sent off resumes and although he knew that it wouldn‘t be quick, he had hoped that by now he would have been offered something. He had even sent off a resume for an assistant coach‘s position at his old high school. And then he was haunted by the memory of how much trouble the Pranger kids had been during High School; getting caught having sex, smoking, selling drugs, etc. Maybe that hadn‘t been a good move.

He‘d heard from Bodie, but only in the form of his final paycheck with a bonus thrown in for good measure. It had only set him off that the bull-headed fool hadn‘t come down from his stance. Everyone knew about his firing and many of the people on the hill had their thoughts on the matter--and he‘d had to hear them as he went searching for a job.

Miss Lemon, who worked at J&B‘s market, had seen him coming out of the hardware store across the street. The owner hadn‘t been around but a pimply faced kid had taken the application and placed it behind a counter where it would most likely lay forgotten.

Miss Lemon had left her cash register to tell him that she thought he‘d been greatly wronged to be fired all because of that Mexican boy that hadn‘t even gotten into the country legally.

"Don‘t get me wrong, I didn‘t dislike that young man but I knew there was something off about him. I felt it in my bones that he was some type of criminal. I always kept my eye on him whenever he came into the store. But he was very respectful…still, you never know. And now you see what happened." She gave him a knowing nod as if to say that some things were understood and didn‘t need to be spoken out loud.

"Yes ma‘am. Thank you. If you hear about a job opening somewhere would you keep me in mind?"

"They always need a bag boy at the grocery store. I can put a word in for you with Bruce. He‘s one of the good ones," she whispered covertly.

Riley knew what she meant. Bruce Dunwitty was a kindly African American man that had been managing J&B‘s Market since he was a kid. But right now with the stigma of Bodie firing him over some unspecified racial activity, he wasn‘t looking to strike up points with any minority. Especially considering that it was widely known that Sully and some of his friends had repeatedly spray painted the N-word on the front of the store. And not only when they were teens but even after Obama had been elected president—both times.

"Thanks Miss Lemon." He headed back to his truck thinking about his prospects in this economy and specifically in this region. They weren‘t grand.

With nothing left to do, Riley thought about hanging out with his cousin but it was too hot to sit in the trailer, even with the fan blowing directly on him. And since the only drinking establishment in the entire county were illegal bootleg joints that didn‘t begin operating until after sundown most of the unemployed watched sports, smoked pot or drank home brew.

He‘d always wished for more time to enjoy himself, but even though he was unemployed he was too preoccupied with the manner that he‘d gotten that way to find any enjoyment in his new found freedom.

With nothing better to do he went to the library and checked out a James Patterson book that was the start of a series that he had wanted to read. Then he paid a visit to the barbershop. At the most he might be more presentable if he did get an interview and at the very least Miss Stella Burton wouldn‘t mistake him for one of the Beverly Hillbillies.

He ran his hand through his shaggy hair as Dale; a barber that had cut his grandfather‘s hair greeted him with his customary ‘Ayup.‘

Three other men were present but neither appeared to be waiting for a haircut as the second Barber, Bear Musgrove was just sitting in a chair drinking a bottle of Coca Cola.

"You just want a buzz, son?" Dale asked Riley as he draped a crisp white cape over his shoulders, tucking it slowly and securely around his neck.

"Yup." Riley replied. "You can touch up this beard, too," he added.

"Heard you looking for a job." Bear said. He was a burly red head that looked exactly like a bear, only he hadn‘t gotten the name because of his looks but because his last name was Bayer.

"Looking," Riley said without turning to him. "But not having much luck."

"Hmph," Mr. Epstein said. He was sitting in one of the plastic chairs meant for customers as Dale didn‘t mind people coming in and shooting the breeze but he only allowed customers—and his other Barbers to occupy the actual ‘business‘ chairs.

Mr. Epstein was old, like most people on Cobb Hill. The young didn‘t typically stick around, heading for the cities to broaden their prospects. Some, like Bodie, had kin that kept them rooted to the mountain, or there were those that had found comfort and nostalgia in living simply. But mostly people needed to make money to live, so they left.

Riley could see Mr. Epstein giving him the side-eye through the reflection of the large wall mirror.

"Heard the reason that you got fired," he said with contempt.

Riley let a beat drop before responding. "I‘m sure there‘s been plenty of speculation."

"All I can say is that messing with people‘s lives ain‘t no joke! You fellas need to mind your business and let others mind theirs! That boy being deported doesn‘t just mean a loss of a job—it means being separated from his little boy and his girl. I say that‘s a damned shame!" The old man sputtered out the words, his liver spotted hand was balled into a fist and trembling in contempt.

"Glenn," Dale said flatly, "Riley‘s here for a haircut, and not here to defend his actions."

Glenn Epstein sputtered. "I don‘t give a damn! It‘s a shame, I tell you!