Page 23 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“No wonder he doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.”

“She led me to believe Mr. Sawyer hired Charlie at this guy’s suggestion. Guess he vouched for him or something.”

“You get this guy’s name?”

“Alex Powers.”

“Why the fuck would Alex Powers be slipping Charlie a payoff?”

Bubba folds his arms and rocks on his boots. “Inside information, maybe? I mean if he’s wanting to buy the place…”

“A lot of shit’s been breaking down lately. You find that odd?”

He shrugs. “Guess so. You think Powers is paying Charlie to make that happen?”

“A run of bad luck might push Sawyer toward selling.”

“Man, it’s like court intrigue around here.”

I huff a laugh. “Court intrigue? You mean like the royal court?”

“I read, asshole.”

I chuckle harder. “Sure. Sure.”

“Come on, let’s get back to work before we get fired.”

It’s late in the day, and I’m helping a couple of other guys load one of the trucks. Three more trucks are lined up on the shoulder of the highway waiting for a spot to pull in.

“We sure got ‘em stacked up today, huh?” Ed mutters. He’s one of the older men who works here and mostly keeps to himself.

“Sure do. I’ve never seen so many trucks scheduled back-to-back like this, have you?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Rafe, come with me.”

I twist to see Charlie Thompson already walking away, and I sigh and slap Ed on the shoulder. “You’re on your own. Sorry.”

“Goddamn it,” Ed mutters.

I follow Charlie to the other side of the office, where Bubba waits by a company pickup truck.

Bubba stands with his arms folded, not looking any happier than me.

I can only imagine what shit job Thompson’s about to give us. He’s had it in for both of us ever since the theft incident. Any other time, I’d have quit a long time ago. But right now, I need this job.

Just stay out of trouble. Probation’s up at Christmas, then you’ll walk.

Charlie Thompson puts his hands on his hips. “Take the pickup and go up to the house. They need some muscle.”

Bubba frowns, glancing up at the big house on the hill. “You mean Mr. Sawyer’shouse?”

“Yes, Einstein. There’s a delivery… a grand piano. Move whatever they tell you. I don’t know where the hell they want it, so you’ll have to ask Tori or Ruth.”

“You want us to move a Grand Piano?” I ask.

“No, dumbass,” he snaps. “They need someone to move the furniture out of the way to make room for the piano they’re delivering.”

---