Page 221 of A Lick and A Promise
I loved that description of Tito, because it was apt.
“Either Shirleen is going to have to buckle to Marjorie’s rules, or Marjorie is going to have to start taking valium. My guess, neither are going to happen,” Knox continued.
“I don’t like that for either of them,” I complained. “I mean, yeah, I get there needs to be rules. Though someone quoting them verbatim to me all the time would suck. And yeah, I think a workplace should have at least a hint of a relaxed atmosphere, flexibility and camaraderie, even if the work done is serious. I just don’t know how you have two managers at opposite extremes working in the same office.”
“Tell me about it.”
I might need to chat with Tito about this. He might have ideas.
“Do you want to be a manager?” Knox asked, and he sounded more than mildly curious.
I glanced at him. “Sorry?”
“You do you. You know I love you. I don’t give a fuck what you do to make money. Just asking.”
Ah.
“I will never, ever have a job where there’s any significant level of responsibility,” I declared. “Every job I work, when it’s done, I’ll be able to leave it there, go home and live my life. Do I like stuff? Yes. Am I up to work for it? Yes? Do I want a yacht? No. No shade on Raye, who digs that shit, and definitely no shade on those Tom Ford shoes you bought me, which are the shit, but I can take or leave designer stuff. I want my dog to be fed. Me to be fed. A roof over our heads. A car that runs. And cute clothes to wear. The occasional treat yo’self day works, and if there’s a biggie in there money-wise, I’d like to travel more. Other than that…I’m good.”
He didn’t say anything.
I got worried.
Therefore, I shot him another glance and asked, “Does that turn you off?”
“It’s the same for me, in a way. In other words, you wanna do what you like doing. You don’t wanna put up with shit you don’t wanna put up with. I love my job. I’m fortunate it pays well so I’m gonna be able to take my woman on trips to places she wants to go. Other than that, I’m good.”
I smiled huge at the windshield. “We are so good together.”
He took my hand, kissed it, rested it on his thigh and replied, “We so are.”
So that was that.
And now I had to ask.
“Anything about your mom?”
“Byron’s at it. Brody’s back at it. And Byron has confirmed that it is very rare, and suspicious, that running his preliminary programs didn’t produce anything on a woman who used to be a stay-at-home mom.”
Dang.
“How are you with that?”
“At first, tweaked. Since then, no reason to be anything, until we learn more.”
That was a healthy attitude.
I gave his hand a squeeze. “You guys will figure it out.”
He squeezed back. “You know it.”
I so did.
FYI: Knox’s doctors were surprised at how well he was doing. They cleared him for light work and to drive. Though, they did give him some stick for not using his sling for the whole two weeks.
FYI Part 2: I phoned this into Marjorie personally. She sounded pleased with this information, but only grudgingly so. The grudge went out when I told her the docs had words about the sling.
But now, she’d stop giving Knox shit.
