“Be nice or I’ll…drop a dead bird on your head.”
“Gross! Is there really a dead bird up there?”
“There is really a dead bird up here. Wanna see?”
Let’s see…did he want to see a gross, swollen dead critter that had been there God knew how long?
No.
“I’ll pass. Burgers in about five.”
“I’m halfway done. Don’t forget torest them.”
“I got this.” He resisted flipping again, knowing they needed to just hang out and caramelize.
Preacher returned with water and a plate of hot dogs. “Momma wants these done too.”
“They are best on the fire.” He tossed them onto the grill, trusting the burgers on the back to catch them.
Preacher dragged over a lawn chair. “I swear, the heat gets to me more these days.”
“Shit, the heat is worse now. Seriously. It’s brutal.”
“It is.” Preacher was smiling, though, looking less peaked now that he had his hat on.
“Don’t let Matty toss the dead bird down on you.”
“Dead bird?” Preacher was up again in a heartbeat. “Wasn’t a cardinal, was it, son?”
“No, sir. Mockingbird.”
“Ah. Well, that’s not good, but I can live with it. Momma loves those silly cardinals.”
“I promise I’d not have admitted if it was.”
“Good man. Let me go get you a trash bag.”
“Ball it up and give it to Luke to toss.”
Luke grinned. He did still have a good arm. He used the long tongs to turn the hot dogs before he pulled off the burgers to rest. He traded those for the bag. “Make sure she lets them sit.”
“You burned that one for her, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. We’ll eat when Matty’s done.”
“I’ll get the dogs, and he can bring me in.” He watched Preacher go in, and Momma waved a thank you from the window.
It was hot.
“Matty, come on!”
“Just a second,” Matt sounded rumbly, aggravated.
Luke started pulling hot dogs off the grill. He lefttwo to char, knowing Momma liked the black stuff. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. Rory had sent him a picture of his desk, a pile of papers teetering madly.
He chuckled and sent back a shot of the grill, the wieners burning merrily.