Seth slid his feet into his work boots and tied the laces. His bag was sitting on his stripped-down bed. He knew he didn't have to strip the bed, but he liked leaving housekeeping one less chore whenever he checked out of a motel. He had already packed his clothes. Fully dressed, he brushed his teeth and put on deodorant. He checked himself in the mirror and then tucked his bathroom gear into his bag.
Seth slung the bag over his shoulder and grabbed his running shoes on his way to the door. He paused at the door, giving the room one more glance to see if he or Fabian had left anything behind. Before leaving, he took a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and sat on the side of the bed. He scribbled a quick thank-you note to housekeeping for the extra towels and tucked the ten and the note under the edge of the Bible.
Now he was ready.
Before Seth opened the door, he could already hear the chaos outside. His crew—and another from Anderson—had spent the last few weeks helping Jennings Ashby finish a job in Siler City. Now it was over. With this many blue-collar men and women saying goodbye, quiet had never really been an option.
The parking lot was a swarming hive of hardworking men and a few women—if bees smoked like chimneys and cussed like sailors. Seth looked the chaos over. A blue-gray haze of smoke hung above the gathering. Seth saw Chief sitting on the closed lid of his toolbox, gumming an orange and getting juice all over his work shirt. Ava was walking around passing out wrapped biscuits from a plastic bag to the men. That was the thing about Jennings. He always thanked the help. It made Seth admire the man. Seth felt his stomach rumble at the sight of the biscuits. He hurried over to the van's open back and set his bag and shoes in with the rest of the crew's bags. He pulled his shaker bottle from the bag's cup holder. It was full of water and natural green superfood powder.
He gave it a shake, mixing the powder and water before taking a drink.
"Enjoying your yard clippings?" Ava Morris said, smiling around a cigarette.
"Ava, just who I was lookin for." Seth said and pointed at the bag of biscuits. He ignored the comment about the greens. He'd heard that joke a thousand times.
Seth grinned.
Ava held out the bag. "We have sausage, sausage, egg, and cheese, and bacon, egg, and cheese... what'll it be?"
"Oh whatever, I grab will be fine." Seth reached into the bag and grabbed one biscuit. His stomach rumbled again. He hesitated, smiled, and grabbed a second.
"You guys stay safe on the road."
Seth was already unwrapping his first biscuit. He nodded and took a bite of buttery, flaky bread, creamy cheese, soft egg, and crunchy bacon. The breakfast melted in his mouth. Seth nodded as he wiped his mouth. He swallowed the bite.
"We'll do our best."
Fabian was over with Scott and Tommy, dancing and laughing in the bed of one of the pipe fitter's trucks.
Before she walked away, Ava said, "You try to keep them boys outta trouble."
"That would be a full-time job."
Ava looked back at the parking lot. "Hell... it would." Then she went on handing out breakfast.
Seth chose a spot away from all the noise. He sat down on the bench just outside of the office and unwrapped the second biscuit. He looked over the whole scene while he ate.
Jimmy Joe, Jennings Ashby, and Butch Carrington stood glaring down at a map spread across the hood of Jennings' El Camino. They looked to be plotting his crew's route to the next job. Some small mountain town not too far from Johnson City, Tennessee. Butch stood there drinking his coffee. It gathered on his thick black mustache. Seth couldn't help but feel a bit of sorrow for the man. It had been two years since his son did what he did to the Maddox brothers, and the crews still talked about it. It had to be hard for Butch to show his face. He never talked about it.
Scott Ashby was making his rounds, shaking hands with the members of the other crews. He carried himself with straight-backed confidence, every step measured, like the Marine Corps had never quite let him go.
He didn't look like much. He was maybe five foot six and at the most weighed one hundred and sixty pounds soaking wet. Seth had seen what Scott could do one night in Opelika when a couple of locals who'd had a few too many decided to find out what he was made of. The crew had piled in too, not that Scott needed any of them. He had the two guys on the ground by the time the crew had sat their mugs down on the bar. Even Jimmy Joe with his arthritic knees had stepped in just in case any other locals tried anything. The whole crew had been thrown out.
Seth polished off the second biscuit. He leaned over and tossed the wrapper in the trashcan.
Chief sat down on the bench beside Seth and started peeling his third orange of the morning. Chief had suffered a heart attack the year before and still bore the long surgical scar beneath his flannel work shirt. This was his first job since recovering.
Chief pulled a wedge from the orange and handed it to Seth. Seth took it with a smile. Chief and Seth had started almost every morning of the job the same way—sharing an orange outside the project trailer while everyone else smoked cigarettes and drank coffee. Behind them, the foremen worked out the day's assignments.
Chief pointed at Tommy Childers with an orange wedge, dripping juice onto his jeans. Now Tommy was joining Fabian in dancing to some song that neither Chief nor Seth could make out. Tommy was far less coordinated than Fabian. His dancing was a herky-jerky display of flailing movement. He almost looked like he was skipping frames.
"Dabid sure has wike being able to seed you guys these wast few weeks."
Seth looked at Chief and clapped him on the back. "Same, Chief. It has been great."
Chief handed Seth another wedge of orange. Seth took it and motioned no more as he chewed the juicy fruit.
Jennings put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The parking lot fell silent.
"Thank you all for coming and helping us out. Most of you worked hard, and only a few of you hardly worked."
The parking lot exploded with laughter. Fingers pointed at each other.
When the laughter died down, Jennings continued. "We couldn't have gotten this job to where it is without the work you all put in. Thank you. Stay safe out there, take care of each other, and I will see you down the road."
The gathering in the parking lot cheered again. You could hear a few "See you down the road" in reply.
Scott nodded at his uncle.
Jimmy Joe spoke up next, "All right, that's enough slap-assin'. My crew we pull out in ten." Jimmy lit another cigarette and said his goodbyes.
Butch Carrington, a man of few words, just motioned his crew to come on.
At 8:15 Jimmy Joe pulled out of the parking lot of the Stage Coach Motor Inn. Scott Ashby was sitting shotgun with the map. Fabian had the window seat behind Jimmy Joe. He had a hoodie rolled up between his head and the window, ready to nap. Seth had the other window seat. He had a paperback book he was two-thirds of the way through. Tommy Childers sat in the middle. He took a glance out the back window of the van to look at the trailer hauling the tools they traveled with. He seemed satisfied and went about the business of biting his fingernails.
They left the motel and headed north on 221. In a few hours, the green-topped mountains would loom over them.