Nobody else in the school could have made that work, but he did.
Logan had always been friendly toward Cody. Not like they ever hung out or exchanged phone numbers, but Logan had never avoided him like the others, and he’d certainly never called him names.
Not to his face, at any rate.
Still, Cody was surprised on Friday when Logan not only sat next to him in social studies, but leaned across the aisle to talk to him.
“Hey, man. I’ve been trying to pin you down in the smoking section all week, but you’re never there when I am.”
Logan had been looking for him? “I only go out at lunch.” He’d been trying to cut down on how much he smoked, mostly because he was a buck twenty away from being flat broke.
“Listen. You know the Tomahawk Saloon?”
Sure, he knew it. Not that he’d ever eaten there. The Tomahawk was what passed for fine dining in Warren. “Yeah. Your family owns it, right?”
“My dad owns it. My Uncle Frank manages it. Anyway, I’ve been washing dishes there part-time since last spring.”
The room was getting loud as more students came in and claimed their desks. Jimmy Riordan and Larry Lucero sat behind them and did their best not to look interested in whatever it was Logan had to say to the class freak.
“Okay,” Cody said, wondering what this had to do with him.
Logan glanced at Jimmy and Larry, then leaned closer to Cody, practically blocking the aisle with his bulk. He lowered his voice. “Well, our other dishwasher got canned last week, so they’re looking for help, and I told Frank about you.”
Cody’s heart leaped. “You did? Why?” After all, there were plenty of other people in Warren looking for work.
“I thought you might like to earn a bit of cash, that’s all. It’s just washing dishes, and it’s only minimum wage. But otherwise, it’s just gonna go to some dick-weed like Larry back there, or some addict like Pete Jessup who’ll only show up half the time and be high the other half. And frankly, I figured you could use it more.”
It was said without pity. Without judgment. Just a fact. It might have felt insulting if Cody hadn’t been so surprised. “Would he really hire me?”
“You bet. I told him we’d painted houses together last summer, how you were the only one who showed up on time every day. The hours kind of suck but—”
“Okay, people!” Mrs. Simmons said as the bell rang. “Enough chatter. Let’s talk about last night’s homework. How many of you did the reading?”
“Think about it,” Logan whispered before straightening back up into his own seat.
Cody sat there, stunned. It was true he’d had a house-painting job with Logan the summer before their junior year, but it’d only been a couple of weekends, and they’d barely spoken to each other during that time. Cody was surprised Logan even remembered. He was even more surprised that Logan would stick his neck out for him. Part-time at minimum wage wouldn’t be much, but it’d be a hell of a lot better than nothing. He might even be able to get a new coat before the snow started to fly.
He spent the rest of the class dreaming about that first paycheck.
Washing dishes was more enjoyable than Cody had expected. Sure, the water was gross and his hands ended up looking like prunes, but he was sequestered in a back corner, alone more often than not, which suited him just fine. Frank didn’t mind if he took smoke breaks, as long as he was all caught up, and best of all, the waitresses occasionally gave Cody dinner—a steak returned for being overcooked, or a baked potato that wasn’t supposed to be loaded but was. Cody was amazed at how many perfectly good dinners came back to the kitchen untouched, and unless somebody wanted them, they went into the trash.
He’d never eaten so well in his life.
The downside was that being alone, up to his elbows in soapy water, he had way too much time to think about Nate. He remembered afternoons spent playing cards. He dreamed up a hundred new trips together to Rock Springs or Casper. He often imagined Nate and his father out in the dining room, perusing the menu, not even bothering to check the prices before they ordered. He wondered if Nate ever thought about him.
It was stupid, but it was hard to stop daydreaming about having his one and only friend back.
Well.
One of his two friends, as it turned out.
Cody and Logan mostly worked opposite shifts, but every once in a while, they’d overlap. Saturday nights especially were often busy enough to warrant both of them, and Logan liked to talk. He talked about football and how his parents hoped he’d get a scholarship. He talked about the trip to Orlando he’d taken with his family that summer, and about the trip to Mexico they’d take after Christmas. He talked about school. About the Grove residents and their weird obsession with what name brands were selling in cities where shopping malls actually existed. He talked about the trailer-park kids at the bowling alley, and the cowboys who were in 4-H with him, and the girls . . .