What The Fudge Just Happened

Beer bottles, belt buckles, and cigarettes

 Brielle hopped down from the truck, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. In her other hand was the brand new camera, her fingers were clenched tightly around it as if it would fall and shatter into a thousand pieces. "What time does your shift end, I'll come to pick you up," Jace said from the driver seat. "Umm, Chess can bring me home when I'm done."

"The kid you work with?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Brielle said absently, fiddling with the camera.

"Have I met him?" Her hands stopped, she looked from the camera and up at him. "Well, no...but you'd like him." She answered, a small smile on her lips.

"I wanna meet him when he brings you home tonight okay?"

"But why?" Brielle whined.

"Don't whine at me, if this boy is gonna keep bringing you home I wanna meet him; look him in the eyes and tell him if any harm comes to you I'll feed him to a shark."

"Jace!" Brielle whined again, half-heartedly at his joke.

"Stop your whining, or I'll take that camera right back to the store."

"No!" Brielle squealed as she clutched the camera to her chest.

"Then I'll meet this boy when he brings you home."

"Alright fine, besides, where would you even get a shark?" Brielle asked quizzically.

"Do you doubt that I could?" Jaded questioned, an eyebrow raised. Brielle glared at him, "No, no I don't."

"Well, there you go." He glanced at his watch, "You better get in there, or you're gonna be late." Brielle checked her watch too, he wasn't wrong. "Right, thanks for driving me." She said as she shut the door. She quickly ducked into the shop, her eyes searching for Chess. She made her way to the back and she still didn't see him. She opened the old book Mr. Hodges kept as their log of hours and wrote her arrival time down. She put down her bag and carefully placed her camera in it and stored it away in a cubby in the back room. "Mr. Hodges, is Chess here?" She asked, walking to the front counter.

"No, my dear, his father called in, said the boy was sick." Mr. Hodges answered.

"Oh. Did he say with what?" Brielle asked.

"No my dear he didn't."

"Did he look sick yesterday?"

"My, my, aren't you full of questions." Mr. Hodges turned to look at her, his glasses halfway down his nose.

"Just worried."

"Or maybe you fancy him." He said picking up a worn, green book, and examining it.

"Who? Me?" Brielle gave a small laugh.

"Oh, Chess is a good boy." He took his glasses off his face and cleaned them with the corner of his dark plaid shirt. "I've known him for many years. His mama was a good friend of my daughters. His daddy though..." he shook his head, "Hmm, he's just not a good man." He put his glasses back on.

"What's wrong with his dad?"

"Oh my dear, that man is a drunk, a mean one. Poor Chess does everything he can, but he isn't ever gonna change that man." There were a few moments of silence. Brielle looked up at the old man.

"Mr. Hodge?"

"Yes, dear?" He brought his gaze to her.

"Do you really think Chess is sick?" His eyes became dark and sad. He grabbed her hand and held it in both of his. "No my dear, I don't."