Page 12 of Truth or Spare

“Did you see that, Brooks? I hitthreethat time!” Theo hopped and waved at Dewey from lane 2.

Dewey held up a thumb, attempting an encouraging smile. “Yup.”

There was nothing to do at the moment so Dewey had instructed Theo to keep practicing.

What the hell is he doing here?

While he was far from the worst employee the bowling alley had ever seen, Dewey still had his doubts about Theo. The exhausting Austrian appeared to be having a grand time, but Dewey couldn’t shake how out of place the handsome foreigner seemed. While Theo was the exact opposite of rude or pretentious, his manners were still too polite and polished, and he was impressed with the oddest things.

“There are one-hundred bags in this box?” he had asked when Dewey showed him the storage closet and where they kept the trash bags, earlier that morning.

“Yeah… Twenty per roll.” Dewey had pointed at the corner of the box. He wasn’t trying to be a smartass, but he had a hard time believing it was Theo’s first encounter with a box of trash bags. “You pull one out and put it in one of those big square cansand you take bags that are full to the dumpster outside,” he said slowly and nodded in the direction of the dumpster.

“I see…” Theo’s head bounced as he processed. “And how will I know when it’s time?”

Dewey blinked back at him. “Time?”

“To refresh the trashcans’ bags,” Theo replied earnestly, checking his watch. He raised a finger. “I can set an alarm on my phone so I won’t forget.”

“Um… Werefreshall the bags before we leave at the end of the night. But we keep an eye on them throughout the day and they get refreshed whenever they’re full. That’s gonna depend on how busy we are.”

“Ah! Got it!” Theo said as he rubbed his hands together. “How do we get the bags into the dumpster? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“There’s a door on the side,” Dewey said. “You just open it and toss the bags in.”

“Ach so!” Theo whispered and nodded quickly. “I’m sure I can manage.”

Dewey hadn’t sensed a hint of sarcasm but he’d snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can. Just don’t hurt yourself,” he added.

There was a soft hiss from Theo. “I can’t promise I won’t,” he said, once again without any sarcasm. “But I’ll get the hang of it eventually, boss,” he predicted.

Thankfully, Theo was able to take a test bag out on his own and returned unharmed. He did pinch his fingers and catch his thumb a few times while they were making their rounds in the workshop. Theo remained enthusiastic, though, and had yet to complain. No matter how menial the task was and despite his startled, pained yelps, Theo’s attitude remained just as bright and unstoppable as his smiles.

“How about another lesson?” Theo called from 2, shaking Dewey from his thoughts.

Dewey became alert, envisioning his arms around Theo and guiding him through the proper motions. He used to enjoy giving lessons and it was a great way to show off whenever he was sweet on someone.

Not that he was sweet on Theo.

Not at all. Dewey just appreciated it when a man smelled nice and had better manners and was smarter than a stump. And Theo liked to flirt and didn’t take everything too seriously, the way Dewey and everyone else in Oslo did.

But Theo was technically his employee, as bizarre as that seemed, and way too far out of Dewey’s league.

“Maybe later. I got an order of new balls to price and put up,” he said as he pointed over his shoulder at the office. “Keep practicing and call me if someone comes in?” he suggested and received a jaunty salute from Theo.

“I’m on it, boss!”

“Boss?” Dewey repeated to himself as he backed away, mystified anew as he watched Theo make another awkward attempt. The ball careened into the gutter but Theo spun and cheered before hurrying to the return to wait for it.

“I’ll bet he’s never called anyone ‘boss’ in his life,” Dewey said under his breath as he let himself into his office. He fell back against the door and groaned at the fourteen boxes stacked against the wall. They had been there for weeks because Dewey rarely sold bowling balls and rearranging the display case was tedious and draining. “No way out of it now,” he told himself and went to find the label maker.

Two hours later, Dewey was exhausted but satisfied with himself for finally tackling the sparse, dusty display case in the foyer and clearing all the boxes out of his office. He also tidied the shirt rack and discounted the older ones. They didn’t sellmany bowling shirts or T-shirts either and they tended to gather dust.

Candy sold well, though, and the little snack counter by the jukebox was starting to look bare so Dewey went ahead and refilled the candy bars and bags of chips. By the time he was done, he was woozy and couldn’t do more than mumble out an “I’m good” when Theo had offered to lend a hand. “Be in here,” he said before closing himself in his office again.

They probably wouldn’t get more than a player or two until later in the evening, so Dewey dropped onto the sofa and toppled onto his side, resting a cheek on the arm rest. He groaned at his heavy, shaking limbs as he settled into a comfortable position, tucking his burning, aching hands between his knees.

How can I feel like I’m a hundredandlike I’m a giant fucking baby?

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