I’m running this job. You do what I tell you to do.

I don’t need some man fighting my battles for me.

EVERYDAY IS EVERYDAY BY DARRYL GRAFF 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 105

Brian picked up the empty Budweiser bottle. “Another?”

“No, I got to pick up my kid at band practice,” Tommy said.

It was quiet in Rogers for a Saturday. A slow rain had moved into Rockaway and it was tapping on the window.

Brian ran a rag up and down the bar. “What does he play?”

“Drums. He’s going to be the youngest drummer ever to lead the St Patrick’s Day parade.”

“You must be proud.”

“He’s a great kid.”

“Does he want to be in music when he grows up?”

“I don’t know, but as long as he ain’t swinging a hammer like me, it’s all good.”

+

“You the steward?” the concrete foreman, Jim, asked.

“Yeah, I’m shoppy,” Lee said.

“So, shoppy, you the one telling my guys they can’t rip plywood?”

“Yeah, they can’t. Ripping plywood is our work,” Lee said.

“Listen to me, bitch. I’m doing this since before you were born.”

Sean came over and stood between Lee and Jim. “What’s all the yelling?”

“It…