The bar was hopping by the time I got there. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the factory released the first shift early on Tuesday. Pete Thompson and Debbie’s husband, Todd, sat in a booth with a couple of other men from the factory. The juke box pumped out music. The sound of pool balls striking each other echoed around the room. The smell of burgers frying filled the air. Chris stood behind the bar, pulling beers, and chatting with customers. A bar towel was flung over his shoulder. He nodded to me as I slipped behind the bar to tie on my apron.
“We’re going to be short-staffed tonight. Tina’s kid is sick again.” Chris set the beer in front of the man and reached for another glass.
“Really?”
“That’s what she said when she called in.”
“More likely her boyfriend is home from the pipeli
