J. Fynn - The Long Game

JIMMY BOY LEANED on the counter and flashed a sweet smile at the cute blonde working the register.

“I’m sure glad y’all were open this early ‘cause our pa wanted to have the new deck done this weekend.”

I kept my head bowed, eyes trained on the scuffed tennis shoes I’d pulled on in a rush to make it to the truck before we hightailed it to Slidell.

My brother and I hadn’t made the ten-minute drive to the hardware store to get parts for a new deck, and we certainly weren’t building one with our da. But, for some reason, that’s what Jimmy Boy’d come up with—as if visiting a hardware store for a box of screws was so unusual it required some kind of grand explanation.

Lying for lying’s sake never made me uncomfortable. If there was one thing I knew about being a Traveler, it’s that Travelers didn’t truck with being honest with country people, even when being dishonest wasn’t strictly necessary. Besides, it was difficult switching between talking from both sides of your mouth out on the road to being straight with people once you got home. There was just no point in trying to keep track of who you’d lied to and who you hadn’t.

The girl grinned, taken by my brother’s charm. “Well, I’m sure glad y’all came in.” She batted lashes almost too pale to see.

I fought the smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Most Traveler men had their fathers or uncles to show them the ropes. I really only had my older brother, but he’d been enough. Jimmy Boy could piss on your leg, tell you it was raining, and then sell you a broken umbrella. And he’d taught me everything I knew.

“I’m glad you’re glad,” Jimmy Boy said. He leaned in further, his elbow inching across the counter so his face moved closer to hers.

She blushed and dropped her eyes, and I saw my opening.

“All right, lover boy, move it so I can pay, and we can stop wasting this girl’s time.” I nudged him aside with my hip and shoulder as I pulled a ten from my wallet and handed it to her. Her eyes only flickered to me for a second as the money moved from my hand to hers. So far, so good.

The blonde watched Jimmy Boy through lowered lashes as she counted out my change. A five and three ones. It couldn’t have worked out better if she’d been in on the scam.

I opened my wallet, making a show of getting ready to put the bills away, then snapped my fingers as if an idea had just dawned on me.

“You know, I’ve got a ton of ones in here. I wonder if you might be able to change them for a ten?”

I didn’t wait for her response but slid several ones from my billfold and added them to the change she’d just given me. I left the five on the counter where she’d laid it but handed her the ones.

“Sure thing. I could always use smaller bills for the register.” Her eyes never left Jimmy Boy’s face as she took the bills from me and handed me a ten, which I put into my wallet right away.

Jimmy Boy leaned in just a hair closer. “You are sweeter than a speckled pup and twice as cute. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Splotches of crimson appeared on the girl’s cheeks as she shook her head.

“You better count that. Can’t never be too careful, darlin’,” he said, and her eyes moved to the money in her hand as if she’d only now realized there was a transaction being made.

I knew exactly how many bills there were and so did he, but this was the best part of the game.

“Oops, there’s only nine here.” She counted through the stack of ones a second time to be sure. The poor girl actually looked apologetic, as if it had been her mistake.

But I didn’t miss a beat. “You’re kidding. Sorry about that, hon. Here you go.”

I pulled out another one and laid it on the counter. She reached for it, but Jimmy Boy laid his hand over hers. “You know, on second thought, I’m sorry to be a hassle, darlin’, but this one owes me twenty bucks.” He jerked his head at me. “And serves him right for betting against the Saints. I’d rather not have all those bills in my wallet since it’s already so full I can hardly sit down.” Jimmy Boy paused to let that sink in, and I didn’t miss the spark of comprehension in her blue eyes. Her smile broadened a little.

“Fine then,” I said, coming in right on cue. “How about you give me a twenty instead since Mr. Moneybags is too good for small bills?” I added five more ones and nudged the five dollar bill still on the counter closer to the pile.

She giggled and let her hand linger under Jimmy Boy’s for a second before scooping up the bills I’d added to the pile.

“Sorry for eating up half your day with this nonsense,” I said.

“I can’t say as I’m sorry,” Jimmy Boy said. “It’s been awfully nice taking up your time.”

The girl was positively scarlet now, and her grin seemed to stretch across her entire face. “It’s been no trouble at all.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” she said and handed a twenty to Jimmy Boy. “I haven’t much minded you taking up my time neither. Maybe while you’re working on that deck, you’ll find you need a few more supplies and come on back to take up a little more of it.”

Jimmy Boy pocketed the twenty and slid the small plastic box off the counter. The screws inside rattled as he shoved it into his pocket as well. “Oh, I’m willing to bet there might be one or two more things I’ll have to run on back for.” Jimmy Boy winked at her before pushing himself away from the counter. “You have yourself a lovely day, miss.”

“That’s Tracy to you,” she said. “And I’m here ‘til we close up, so you make sure to ask for me if you need help finding anything.”

Jimmy Boy nodded and crossed in front of me as he strode to the door. With one last smile to the blonde, he pushed it open, jostling the silver bell that punctuated his exit with a metallic jingling.

“I hope y’all enjoy that new deck,” the girl said before I had a chance to follow after him. “Maybe I’ll even get to come by and see your handy work.” She gave a shy smile. “You should tell him that I’d love to see it when it’s all done.”

“I surely will, Tracy.” I tipped my head to her and followed my brother through the door.

Jimmy Boy was halfway to the battered old pickup truck when I stepped from the air-conditioned store into the heat of the late August morning. It was not yet nine, but the temperature neared ninety degrees. I jogged across the parking lot to catch up, and within seconds, the fabric of my white T-shirt clung to the damp skin of my back.

“Get in the damn truck so we can get out of here,” Jimmy Boy said as I circled around to the passenger side.

The good ol’ boy accent that had tinged every word he’d said to the store clerk was gone, replaced with the typical Traveler cadence: a clipped Southern brogue. Travelers liked to retain a connection to their Irish roots even in their speech. Still, after living in the South for so long, we couldn’t help but let a bit of a drawl seep in, even when we spoke amongst ourselves.

Jimmy Boy could move from a Cajun inflection to a country twang to a smooth Midwestern accent and back in the same sentence. I didn’t have quite the same talent for it, but then, I hadn’t had as many years of practice either, being cooped up in school until just two years ago.

We both climbed into the truck, and Jimmy Boy jammed the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine made a hacking noise. He tried the key again, and the truck sputtered and kicked but still refused to turn over. The statue of Jesus glued to the dashboard trembled with the violent motion. Jimmy Boy wasn’t a devout Catholic like most Travelers (the colorful language that spewed from his mouth every time the old truck refused to start was proof of that), but he’d kept the figurine because it was our da who’d put it there to begin with.