Page 135 of As the Rain Falls
I want to hear all your thoughts
A LITTLE BIT OF TENSION
Beckett
NOVEMBER, 2016
The light bulb hangslow, exposed wire curling from the ceiling. I have to bend every time I want to stand up straight, and it’s seriously starting to piss me off.I shove the box towards the corner of the basement, and behind me, keeping the door open, is Silvio.
My plan is very simple: I want to stack all the other boxes together so that the fruit crates sit on top. I mean, I didn’t carefully label themfragileanddon’t squeeze itfor nothing.
“Beckett? Where are you, man?”
Antony sounds like he just ran a fucking marathon, which is hilarious considering he only carried two boxes before telling me he needed a bathroom break.
“Down!” Silvio yells before I can.
“Down where?”
“In the basement, dumbass!” I cross my arms, tilting my head as I wait for his ugly mug to show up. “Where else would we be?”
Antony makes a noise that goes a bit likeaaaahbefore shouting,I’m coming.I roll my eyes, but there’s fondness in the gesture.
“Meu pai do céu!”Antony sneezes, making his freshly done piercing jiggle. The hoop is way too big for a fresh wound. I should tell him to swap it out before it gets infected.
“You can wait inside the restaurant if you want,” I tell him. “I’m almost done anyway.”
There’s not much left to do, just a few boxes to carry. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, feeling sweat trickling down my collarbone. Being shirtless was supposed to help, but the basement feels like a hundred degrees.
Antony’s eyes widen as he spots the mess of stacked crates. “That’s a lot of stuff right there.”
Silvio smacks the back of his head. “I run asuccessfulbar-restaurant. You know what happens at a successful bar-restaurant?”
“People buy stuff?” Antony offers sheepishly.
“Hell, yes!” Silvio smacks him again. “Now, get out before I make you wash the dishes.”
Antony gives me a desperate look. “Is there even enough space for all this? I don’t see any refrigerators.”
“I keep them in the kitchen,” Silvio explains, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “We get fresh fish delivered to us every day. Perks of being so close to the sea, he-he-he!”
Antony nods, as if impressed. “That’s why I only order fish when I come here.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re allergic to seafood, Antony.”
“Definitely allergic.” He grins in a goofy way. “I once almost died from eating half of a shrimp. Beckett made me spit it out before I could swallow it.”
“Because you stole my food.” I close the box shut. “You should use the tomatoes soon, or else they’ll rot in here. It’s way too humid.”
“Don’t worry about it. My wife’s catering for a birthday party downtown next Tuesday. Two hundred guests, Beckett. There won’t be a single tomato left.”
“Well, at least you have that going on for you, man.”
We walk out of the basement one after the other. Silvio locks up after me. “Thanks for the help. My back is killing me.”
“Don’t mention it.” I shake his hand, trying hard not to grimace at his grip.
“Let me get you something to drink, okay?”
