Page 49 of Bear's Grip
He sighs and turns back to look me in the eye. “You’re stubborn.”
“I’m not. I’m just tired of everyone running my life. I’d like the dignity of making decisions for myself for once.”
He sighs. “Get dressed, woman.”
This quiet victory drives home the fact that Bear actually listens to what I want in a way that Rick doesn’t. He understands that I don’t want to be constantly sidelined, even if it is safer. I want to live life, take risks and make decisions for myself. These things have been denied to me for far too long.
I hustle into the shower and get ready for our busy day.
We stop at the pharmacies first. While Bear gathers and signs out our delivery, I pick up a few things for my brother. Bear just smiles at me, clearly on board with bringing my brother things to enjoy once he wakes up.
After picking up the meds from the last pharmacy, we make a start on our morning route.
We’ve got a full day ahead of us and are forced to pick up the pace. We’ve broken the day into four parts, morning deliveries of perishable or critical medications, interviews over an extended lunch and visiting Rick this afternoon and then delivering the rest of the meds into the evening. It’s a lot, but we can’t let the business fall apart just because everything in our life has gone to hell in a handbasket.
Our first stop is at a regular client’s house. After dropping off his antibiotics I climb back into the truck, I tell Bear, “It might just be me, but Fred’s looking a little better. He’s got more color in his face.”
He shifts gears and pulls out onto the road again. “That’s why Rick and I started this business, so people could get what they need to recover. I’m glad to hear Fred’s doing so well.”
We hit three more houses before eight-thirty. Between stops, I rearrange things in Rick’s gift bag and eventually tuck it behind the seat. It’s silly, I know. But I want Rick to have everything he needs when he wakes up.
We move from one delivery to the next as quickly as possible. Knowing every delivery we make keeps our business alive.
***
The local pub is a block from our last delivery stop. That’s the spot Bear texted the applicants to meet us at. Our first interview is scheduled for just after lunch. We head straight there with no messing about, so we have time to eat first.
The interior is bright, with sports memorabilia on the walls and big, comfortable leather booths. The scents coming from the kitchen are amazing. We slide into a corner booth with a wide view of the entrance and order our food.
“Double bacon cheeseburger,” Bear tells the waitress. “And keep the coffee comin’. I need to stay sharp today.”
I order a grilled chicken sandwich and glance at the list of applicants.
Bear tells me, “We have seven applicants. We need two who can follow directions and who are reliable enough to show up on time. Bonus points if they have good social skills.”
“How many applications did you go through to narrow it down to these seven?”
He glances towards the door. “Twenty-five. I hired an agency to run background checks and check references. That way whoever we choose today can start immediately.”
“Wow, you thought of everything,” I say warmly. Bear is truly impressive in a lot of ways.
Bear grunts. “Yeah, I’m great and all, but I told the recruiter that I ain’t babysittin’ anyone. If they can’t follow a fuckin’ map, show up for work, and act like an adult, they’re out.”
Our food arrives and we make short work of it. Which is good, because the first applicant, a wiry thirty-year-old named Charles Vane shows up. He’s fifteen minutes early and all kinds of polite. Unfortunately, he fidgets nonstop and talks a mile a minute about networking and expanding the brand.
Bear leans back in his seat, stone-faced. “This ain’t a fuckin’ startup, brother. It’s med delivery. You show up, drive a route, and don’t lose the packages. Can you handle that?”
Vane blinks, then nods fast. “Yes, sir. I just think I have more value to add to your business than delivery.”
Needless to say, Bear discards his application the minute the interview is over and Vane’s out the door.
The next one is a young woman. Her name is Angie Marlow. She’s sharp, direct, and used to working with elderly clients. She knows the importance of patients getting their meds and is good with the elderly.
After she leaves, I lean towards Bear and whisper, “I like her. She seems like a person who likes to work rather than listen to the sound of her voice.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “She’s not full of shit. That’s fuckin’ rare.”
I can tell that interviewing is not his favorite thing in the entire world. However, having it take place in a pub clearly is, as he ends up ordering an extra serving of fries to help with the decision-making process.
