The next Friday, Ramon stopped by as Brandon was closing up the shop. He brought a six-pack of Michelob and Brandon didn’t have the heart to tell him that he thought any beer that wasn’t Coors tasted like weasel piss. He sipped at the Mich while they talked. Ramon’s mood was cheerier and they shared some laughs.
Brandon locked all the doors. “I need to get this deposit into the night drop. Let me count this out, okay?”
“I’ll stay out of your hair, promise,” Ramon said.
Brandon threw a bottle cap at him. While he got the deposit together, Ramon went to work on the shelves, straightening stock here and there.
Brandon took longer than normal to do his banking. He watched Ramon in the glass, and had to re-count the cash three times to get it add up right. He’d always been able to get by e
