By the middle of the next week, I had almost finished resurfacing the pool. I took a break around one o’clock, sipping water in my truck and eating a couple of bologna sandwiches I had made last night. I had my shirt off, trying to cool down in the air-conditioned cab of my truck. The radio played a ZZ Top song, “Waitin’ for the Bus.” I loved the opening riff. I tapped my foot to the rhythm.
A loud knock had me lowering the volume. It was Corey. I rolled the window down and waited for him to speak.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied. He just stood there, fidgeting. I took another bite of my sandwich and waited.
“I was wondering if you wanted to eat inside the house, maybe? Air-conditioning. Save you coming out here all the time. Fuel.”
“It’s not a problem. Most folks prefer the hired he
