", is that you?" Bev's voice travels through the house. Looking at her, you wouldn't think she could project her vocal chords like that, but even at seventy-two, she's got a set of lungs.
"Just me, BB," I yell loud enough she can hear me.
"Are you hungry for lunch?"
I quietly chuckle as I head for the bathroom. We just sat down an hour and a half ago to eat the pancakes and sausage she made with homemade gravy. I won't be eating until tonight.
"Uh, not yet. Just need the head," I holler.
"You need something for your head?" she asks, tracking me down in the hall and I smile at her still in her nightgown, though I know it means she's low on energy today. She's usually dressed and ready to head out into the orchard by nine.
"No, I'm okay. You feeling okay?"
"Oh yeah," she lies as her eyes dart away from my face.
"Bev…" I approach her. "What's goin' on today?"
"I'm heading to the orchard." She points toward the back of the house.
"You're not dressed yet. You want me to get you in to see your doc?"
"Oh, no, no." She starts to wander away from me, but I don't stop her. It'll only piss her off if I press. I watch as she closes her bedroom door then I head into the bathroom.
Bev took a chance on me three and a half years ago. A punk like me needing a job to make honest money. She never looked twice at the tattoos covering my flesh head to toe. The same tattoos that prevented me from getting at least two dozen other jobs when I moved into town. The only thing Bev cared about was my honesty. At the time I didn't know it, but she ran me through a course of tests my first week working for her. Apparently I proved my worth. She kept me on board and we slowly became family. She's not just my employer, she's my best friend, and if I hadn't found her, I couldn't tell you where I'd be right now.
Getting a job at Bev's Blooming Orchard is the best thing to happen in my life. Harvesting cherries is the last thing I thought I'd end up doing. But here I am. Waking up every morning looking forward to going to work. It also allows me to spend every day I can with Bev.
It's not just us on the farm though. She runs through a lot of employees. Usually high school kids, and every time they encounter me, they're scared shitless. I'll admit I may not fit the profile you'd expect to find working on a cherry farm in Boring, Oregon, but those award-winning cherries don't grow by luck. Bev's vast knowledge and my hard work supply people with the best produce they've had in their lives. We're an unlikely duo, but nothing's going to separate us.
"Travis?" she calls for me just before I hit the back porch.
"'Sup?" I round the corner and she smiles up at me, a smile that squints her eyes and makes her crows feet predominant. "What's funny?" I huff, knowing whatever she's thinking, I won't find any humor in. This smile is the one when she knows I won't be amused, but she is.
"I've got two nice girls coming from the high school today."
"Okay?" I lean against the doorframe and wait while she ties up her gray hair.
"It's a warm day out there." She glances out the back screened-in porch while stringing her bonnet strap under her chin.
"And only getting hotter," I state, not sure what her point is.
"Stay cool. Maybe work on your tan." She tugs the sleeve of my t-shirt and my eyelids burst open.
"Bev!" I blurt. "You're trying to whore me out!"
"Oh, come on." She pats my arm then shuffles around me. "I'm just trying to keep some good helping hands for longer than a week. Give the girls a reason to stay, Trav." The wood door creaks as it closes behind her and I can't help my laugh. She never ceases to surprise me on a daily basis.
"I refuse to work at Bev's Brothel!" I say as I exit into the yard.
"I didn't say that!" She's laughing from somewhere hidden in the corn stalks.
It's not only cherries we're hustling over here. Bev's got a variety, but she doesn't allow anyone but me out into the cherry orchard alone. It took a year for me to gain that privilege.
"Yeah, yeah." I find her smelling the corn and chuckle. I never understood this, but she swears she can smell when they're ready. I believe it. There's no better produce around, but she's got some wild methods.
"I'm not sure I'll be much help. Ya know the tattoos sometimes scare them away."
"No," she scoffs like I'm crazy. "You're a handsome boy with or without the body art. Nice, tall, and a body like Steve Reeves." She giggles.
"I don't know who that is, BB, but you're creeping me out." I grin down at her and she waves her fingers at me to get me back to work.
She wasn't kidding about it being hot out today, and every forty minutes or so, she finds me and has some sort of beverage. I've had to piss since noon but once I get going, I don't want to stop until I have all my crates filled. Traveling back and forth to the house is a pain in the ass I like to avoid. Twenty crates is my minimum before I'll go empty them into the cooler then head back out. It usually takes me a little less than an hour to fill twenty, but Bev's screwing up my routine today.
"BB, you should stay in the house today," I grumble before drinking down her homemade lemonade in a few gulps.
"It's hot out today, Travis. I think you should come on in now too."
"I'm fine, but you need to stay out of the sun." I grab my t-shirt from my back pocket and wipe off my face.
"I'm fine, come on in." She starts the four-wheeler and heads back toward the house.
I've been out here six hours, and I have at least four more ahead of me, but the only way to keep her out of the sun is if I come in for a bit. I load the crates then jump on my ATV, taking my time to get back to the house. The heat feels more like taking a dip in a warm pond today. Mainly because it's hot enough that I'm sweating balls, but I love it. I love being in the sun. Especially while in the orchard. I never knew beauty like this until I moved to Boring.
The heat's not good for the cherries, but I'm only one guy so I work as fast as I can to get them to the cooler. Loading these crates into the chilled box is awesome, but it doesn't take long for the sun to heat my sweat-drenched body, making it feel like I was in a sauna. Before going in, I grab my phone from the back porch and open a text from one of the few friends I have around here. I try to lie low, keeps me out of trouble, but Jeff says Thursday night I'm giving him a tattoo, then we're headed to the bar. If the guy wasn't going through a nasty divorce, I'd shoot him down about the bar, but he needs it. Women can get nasty, and the one he's divorcing is head of the evil pack.
I shoot him a thumbs up then grab my water bottle and dump it over my face 'cause I'm going back out. Bev hasn't come out of the house again, so I'm hoping she knocked out for a nap. These cherries need off the trees before they get too soft and she loses money. The past few days have been hotter than usual and my job is to make it so she doesn't lose profit. Well the sun's my biggest competitor right now.
"BB?" I quietly call into the house through the back porch screen. Not hearing anything, I get back on the four-wheeler.
"Hey."
I look behind me toward the voice and see two young girls trying to hide their giggles while they stand by the fence. These are the high schoolers Bev was talking about. Who are these kids’ parents? I'd join the Amish community if I had a daughter and she tried to dress like this. Man, I don't remember much about high school, but I don't remember the girls I chased looking like these girls do. They look like they could sneak into a bar and get drinks handed to them all night.
"Uh…" I almost want to tell them we don't have any work, 'cause just by looking at them, they're not the type that'll get anything done. As their giggles get louder I start to think they think I'm interested in more than putting them to work. That is not the case. I'm trying not to go inside and grab them a few of Bev's sweaters and knickers.
Damn kids.
"You two ever worked on a farm?"
"No. We're doing this for a Home and Agriculture credit."
I don't know what that means, but I hope it means we don't have to pay them.
"Cool, so uh." I glance toward the house. Bev usually deals with this. "Gloves." I point at the garden box. "If you don't wear 'em, you'll stain your fingers red."
They're conjoined at the shoulder while they giggle their way to the box.
"So hop on and hold on. I'm taking you to the orchard, I guess," I mutter and wait for them to get on back.
"So who's that old lady? She your grandma or something?" One of them calls out as I slowly, painfully slow, make my way out to the trees. Last thing I need is one of these girls falling off and then their irresponsible parents trying to sue Bev or somethin'.
"She's my best friend," I snip, not wanting to talk. "Look." I point to the trees. "You're just gonna pull the cherries and put them in your crate. If they're too soft, like mushy, skip it. Got it?"
Their response is giggles and I huff, putting out two crates for them, not even expecting one to be full in the two hours they'll be here.
"Alright, listen." I hand the more talkative one a walkie. "If you need anything, just call me through this, okay? Any troubles, the bathroom, water, whatever. It's kinda hot out today so my suggestion is staying in the shade. I'll be back there." I point toward the back of the orchard and when they giggle, I get moving.
I shove in my headphones then turn up my music before clipping the walkie on my side so I'll feel it vibrate. It only takes thirty minutes before it goes off and I groan. I thought they'd last at least an hour.
"What's up?" I grumble into the box.
"We have a question."
"Okay? Shoot."
"No, I mean like, we gotta ask you here."
I scrunch my brows, trying to have patience, but this isn't a place for little kids.
"Yeah, alright, I'll be right there." Having noticed their exploring eyes before, I pull my t-shirt back on. As I get closer, I call out. "What's up?" then I smell it. Cutting the four-wheeler, I jump off and try not to jump into a tirade. "Are you two smoking pot?"
"We wanted to share." She holds it out.
"What the hell! No! Get the hell out of here with that! What are you doing?" In their crate, they actually have more cherries than expected, but still.
"You don't smoke pot? We won't tell that lady."
"Let's go. Grab your crate. You're done." I point to the crate.
"Why are you being lame? We'll put it out. But we need this credit or we'll fail."
"I don't care," I scoff.
"You look like a guy that would smoke pot. You're covered in tattoos and have your nipples pierced. You probably deal."
"Well, that's extremely judgmental," I mutter, snatching up the crates. "I don't smoke pot. I don't condone little girls smoking pot. And you're not going to smoke pot on Bev's farm. Let's go." I point to the ATV, wondering when I became the angry dad type. I don't give a shit if these girls smoke pot, just not here.
"Chill, okay?" she says, showing me she put the joint out. "I kinda thought you'd be cool."
With one more scowl at her, I jump on the four-wheeler and dart toward the back, actually pissed these seventeen year olds think I'm not cool. I used to be fucking cool. Shit! When did I care about being cool?! I think the sun's getting to me today.
I don't hear a peep out of them for the next hour and a half, but when I ride up, the one mouthy one has her shirt tucked up and into her bra, bearing more skin than little kids should be.
"Let's go," I call out.
"We need more basket thingies." She points to a heaping pile on the ground and I'm actually shocked they filled both crates and probably have another crate and a half worth in a pile on the ground.
"Damn," I mutter, grabbing two baskets then start scooping them up, ready to get these girls out of here.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," the quieter one warns before saying, "There's a lot of bees." And damn if I'm not stung a second too late.
"Shit!" I snap and fling the tiny death trap off my hand. I reach into my back pocket for my EpiPen that's not fucking there. "No… Shit, no, no." Frantically looking around, I know I could have lost it anywhere between here and the back of the orchard. I'm usually more careful with it. Having to deal with little kids and the sun has me acting like an ass today.
"What're you looking for?" The mouthy one starts to laugh and I already feel my throat closing.
Continuing the search, I gasp in a breath, knowing it'll be my last until I get the pen. Grabbing the walkie-talkie, I hit the emergency alarm that will wake Bev if she's napping. I couldn't make it back to the house if I tried. Trying to operate anything when you can't breathe is damn near impossible and that's why I'm on my knees right now, trying to see through my watering eyes.
The squealing and shrieking of those two girls are distracting me from getting back to my feet and finding my pen! Suddenly I'm punched in my back and then pricked, but it opens my airway a few seconds later and I gasp in a breath.
"Are you okay?" the mouthy girl keeps screaming at me.
I'm nodding but stay on my hands and knees, and then I hear the other four-wheeler. When I look up, Bev's racing in like she's in the lead.
"Travis!" she screams, running toward me with a pen in hand. We've been through this before, and she's tried to fire me a dozen times because of it.
I put out my hand before she stabs me again.
"I gave him this," the girl says with a tremble in her voice.
"Travis, can you breathe?" Bev urges and I nod.
"Fine," I rasp out. "I'm fine."
"Come on." She grabs my arm and helps me stand then looks at the girls and says, "I thought you girls stood me up."
I don't bother explaining I took over. I just get on behind Bev because I know she won't let me ride the other back to the house.
"Are you okay? Is he okay?" the girl asks again and I nod; my vocal chords feel strained so I don't want to talk.
"He won't be when I get done with him," Bev grumbles, tightly grabbing my hand.
Before the girls leave, I thank them. Grateful she found that pen. She stares at me a minute like I'm a sad case. My negative-cool-points just got even more in the negative.
Bev pulls me in for the afternoon, and it's probably best. I'm supposed to go get checked out after I get stung, but she knows I won't, so at least I'll appease her and let her monitor me for a bit. After dinner she lets me go with her to get the other four-wheeler and our loot for the day, then we start locking up for the night.
"You think you should stay overnight, just in case?" she asks and I sadly smile at her. I think she wants the company, but I gotta get home to Peter.
"I'll be alright. I'll see you early in the morning. Don't forget tomorrow's healthy Thursday." I grin and she laughs. "As much as I love your home cookin', we're both sticking with oatmeal and fruit or my cholesterol will skyrocket as much as yours."
"The only thing skyrocketing my cholesterol is you and the damn bees! I wish you'd stay out of the fields."
"I wish you'd stop repeating yourself." I bend and kiss the top of her head. "Night."
"Good night. And thanks for dealing with the girls today. I didn't mean to drift off to sleep."
"I'm not helpless," I mutter, but only so she doesn't apologize for taking a nap again. She hates when I tell her she needs to rest. She also hates she's not as energetic as she was a year ago.
When I walk into my house, Mambo Number Five is playing and I grimace. "Pete man, this your jam?" I call out, not prepared when he jumps onto my back. "Oh, you bastard!" I grab him and pull him in front of me, kissing him. "You need to listen to better music."
He replies with a meow and I drop him to the floor before he runs between my legs toward the kitchen, acting as pathetic as a starving man in the desert. He's got food and water for days, but when daddy's home, he knows the good stuff’s coming.
Shit, I'm really not cool anymore.
I like to get a start before dawn breaks because Bev doesn't let me go out unfed. We both hit the fields before the sun is up and scorching us. By noon, Bev goes in to prepare lunch and I take a minute to cool off in the cherry box.
"Hello?" a voice calls and I step out to see that high school girl from yesterday.
"Hey," I holler back and as I approach the fence, I see her black eye. "Oh, shit, what happened?"
"Tripped." She chuckles. "Hey, I was wondering if there's any work for me today?"
"Shouldn't you be in school?" I ask checking my phone for the time.
"Half day." She smirks and her eyes skim my bare chest, making me hella uncomfortable.
"I got nothing," I quickly respond.
"Travis?" Bev calls out and I huff, knowing once she sees this girl, she'll put her to work. "Oh, hi." She smiles, approaching.
"Lunch ready, BB?" I ask, trying to get her back inside.
"Yes. Come on. There's enough." She opens the gate and the girl comes in like a rat following crumbs.
She's just a kid, and she did save my life, but we don't need this kind of trouble around here. That black eye didn't come from a fall. She probably got into a fight at school and got suspended or something. Now she's here probably to rob Bev.
I watch her through lunch and her eyes stay on her plate while she quietly eats. Afterward, Bev suggests I take her to the field. We could use the hands, but I'm still skeptical about this girl.
"What's the real story? Why weren't you in school?" I ask as we ride out into the orchard.
"Uh, hello. Did you see my eye?" she snickers.
"Black eyes are allowed in school."
"Not in my case without CPS being called, and I really can't lose a place to stay right now."
"Wait." I release the accelerator and before she falls off from the abrupt stop, I grab her shoulder. "Your dad did this to you?" I snap, trying to see her face but she turns away.
"My brother. I don't have a dad. And my mom don't give a shit."
"What the hell! How old's your brother?"
"Twenty-two."
"You've never called the cops?" Man, I can't get involved in this but I can't sit by idly while this little girl's brother beats on her.
"My mom lies for him. It's not a big deal, but my counselor caught on and she thinks it's my mom. She's gonna try and get CPS involved. I'll be eighteen in like ten months, then I can get the hell out."
"No! Fuck no!" I shout and jump off the four-wheeler.
"Oh my God. Chill out, dude," she scoffs.
"We're calling the sheriff. Right now."
"Oh my God!" She hops off. "No! Fuck you, dude! But no! I just need some money, okay? That's why I'm here. If you're not gonna let me work, I'm getting the hell out of here!" She starts to march toward the house and I jog up behind her, but before I grab her arm, I just yell, "Wait!" With a pout, she turns around. "Let's do some work," I huff and walk back to the four-wheeler, not really sure what I should do. Bev would know.
Things are quiet the next few hours, but I keep her on the trees by me because I forgot a walkie.
"Travis, this is bad, right?" she calls out and I start to feel guilty I can't remember her name.
She's holding a cherry that's on the brink of being too ripe and I nod. "Put ones like this in a separate crate. BB can make pies with them."
"Do you do this shit all day?" She looks up at me.
"Yeah, but I like it. It's quiet. I can listen to music. Don't have to deal with other people." I toss a soft cherry at her head and she laughs, stumbling away.
"Isn't it like, dangerous though? ‘Cause you're allergic to bees or whatever?"
"I'm usually more careful. I was trying to get you two the hell out of here." I chuckle and she scoffs, acting offended.
"We were really annoying yesterday," she mutters, looking away like she's embarrassed.
"You guys weren't that bad. I'm just used to working alone." I start pulling from her tree, feeling bad for the girl, and I'm still trying to figure out what to do.
I know what it's like to get slapped around. My dad would get rough with us sometimes, but we always deserved it. We never learned our lessons. But if my brother wailed on me like hers did her, I woulda killed him. Plus she's a girl. Probably weighs a hundred and ten pounds.
"Hey, what about your friend? Can't you stay at her place or something?"
"Brooklyn's only sixteen. Her parents don't like us hanging out. My brother doesn't do shit like this all the time. He's a truck driver and goes out of town a lot. I just want to save up some money so I can move out at eighteen."
"You can't be missing school 'cause of black eyes. You shouldn't even have black eyes."
"It's cool." She smiles up at me, tucking her hair behind her ear and I can see the gears turning in a direction they shouldn't be.
"It's not cool. We gotta get you some help. You're just a kid."
The gear reverses and she moves away some. "I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen. I can move out right now if I wanted."
"You can't rent a place until you're eighteen."
"I probably could. I'd just lie."
"Smart. Lying, skipping school. You're on the path to being an exemplary young woman." When you've already been down that road, you can judge it.
"Oh my God. Like you should talk. How old are you? Like twenty-three and you're covered in tattoos. I've never even seen someone with so many tattoos. You have a tattoo on your throat." She winces. "Didn't that hurt? What about the ones on your head?"
I chuckle at her guess at my age. "I'm a hell of a lot older than twenty-three. I've been collecting these for years." That's not entirely a lie, but I did obtained most of them before I was twenty-one. When you apprentice at a tattoo parlor, you need a canvas, and if your mentor wants one too, you offer any blank skin you have.
"Well whatever, but you can't lecture me because I want to lie about my age to get the hell away from my brother."
I sigh, remembering why we're talking about this. "You gotta do something about this shit."
"I am. That's why I'm here, making money."
"More work, less talk," I grumble.
It's five before I realize it and I need to get out of here but I don't want to just send this girl home.
"BB," I whisper and walk her toward her bedroom. "That girl is having some trouble at home. That's where the black eye came from."
She gasps and frowns.
"I don't know what to do. Call the cops?"
"What's she want to do, Trav?" she quietly asks.
"She said it's no big deal. It's her brother. BB, I don't know what to do for this girl."
"She can stay here," she suggests.
"Hell no," I snicker. "Not unless I'm staying and I can't tonight."
"Hello?" the girl calls out.
"Just a minute, Violet," Bev calls back and I try to store her name. "What should we do, Travis?"
"Shit." I huff. "Violet, can I take you to stay somewhere tonight?" I ask, finding her in the kitchen.
"Yeah, home. My brother's not home," she quietly says and I'm not sure I should believe her, but why would she lie and willingly go home to abuse?
I look over at Bev who's got a sad but reassuring smile on her face and she gives me a soft nod. She knows better than me.
Walking over to her, I kiss her head. "Call me if you need anything. I'm just going to be with Jeff."
"Jeff…is that the one I like?"
"Uh, no." I chuckle because Bev hates Jeff. "Jeff's the one getting divorced."
"Oh," she mutters with contempt in her voice. "Be safe, Travis. That one…that one's a pain in the dupiyash."
I laugh and look at Violet who's trying not to giggle. "She says that means ass."
"It does and that Jeff is a dupiyash," Bev grumbles going to the fridge.
"I'll see you in the morning. Let's go, Violet."
"Thanks, Ms. Bouchard."
"Tuck in tight. You're welcome back anytime. Plenty of work." Bev smiles at her then glances toward me. Before I follow the girl out the door, Bev grabs my arm. "Careful with that one, Trav," she whispers. "She's fragile. Impressionable."
I snicker. "I'm not a bad influence."
"I mean a man paying attention to a young girl will put the wrong thoughts in her head."
I worried about that, but I'm not going to just let this girl get the shit kicked out of her. "You wanted me to persuade them to stay the other day by flaunting my body, Bev."
We laugh and she says, "That was for the good of the farm. I'm warning you for the good of a little girl's heart."
"I won't let her think anything she shouldn't. Text me before bed." I quickly kiss her forehead and leave. Clearing my throat, I buckle up. "So, look, I'm eleven years older than you and stuff."
"What?" She scowls over at me.
"Like, I don't want you to get any ideas because I want to try and help you out. You're a kid."
"I'm not a kid, and you're lame. I don't like you. You're allergic to bees." She laughs at me.
Rolling my eyes. "Ha, ha. Hilarious a tiny insect can kill me. Tell me where you live," I say as I pull off Bev's drive.
As we approach a lone house with the porch light on, I slow down. "You sure you're cool here tonight? I could have a talk with your brother or something," I offer, not really wanting to do that.
"I'm totally cool. He's not home. Thanks, Trav. Can I come back to the farm tomorrow?"
With a sigh, I look into her face and stare at the black eye that'll take at least the weekend to settle. "Yeah. The earlier you get there, the better, okay? You have a chance to make some good money tomorrow."
"Thanks." She gets out and darts for the house.
"Fuck, man." I groan, wishing I were the same asshole I was years ago. I wouldn't give a shit about that little girl's wellbeing. It was every man for himself when I was younger. All was fair in the world.
I pull into my driveway to Jeff waiting.
"The fuck!" he bitches when he gets out and he's already a few in.
"I'm not tattooing you drunk, man," I huff.
"Fuck you, I'm not drunk."
"Dude, I'm serious. You're going to bleed all over my house." I unlock the door and catch Peter as he lunges at my chest. "Hey, buddy." We go through our routine before he darts for the kitchen. "Close the door before you let Pete out, asshole."
"Who names their fuckin' cat Pete?" This seems to be mine and Jeff's routine too.
"Hey, dude," I call from the kitchen. "Let's just skip the bar and throw a few back here."
"Uh, no. I'm gonna get laid tonight."
I glance at him then turn for the refrigerator. He says it every time, and by the end of every night, he's in tears, drunk texting his ex. The guy's a wreck and I really feel for him.