“Hey!” someone called. “Kid!”
Justin turned.
The cashier with the pink lipstick was walking toward him through the small parking lot, an unlit cigarette hanging between her fingers. In the sunlight her makeup looked patchy and her platinum dyed hair, stacked in curls on her head, looked brittle and thin. “Bill blew you off, huh?”
“Yeah,” Justin said, squinting in the sunlight.
“You’re an O’Dwyer, right?” the cashier asked.
He nodded.
“Hmm.” The woman lit her cigarette. “My brother Lloyd owns the feed store out on the highway. He’s looking for someone who can lug bags of grain around. His back can’t take it anymore. That sound like something you’d be interested in?”
“Yeah,” Justin said, his heart thumping with sudden and unexpected hope. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
The cashier nodded and blew a cloud of smoke toward him. It hung in the air between them like fog before it slowly dissipated. “You tell him Carol sent you, and see what he can do.”