Free Rugged by Lila Monroe Page B

gonna be able to give us a raise, or what? Don’t be cheap, man. Lookin’ this good takes money and time.” The guy gestures to himself, mock-serious.
    “And that face is all you end up with, Danny?” Flint says, playfully swinging at the guy. They do some more affectionate guy-fighting, then Danny claps Flint on the shoulder. He’s beaming.
    “This man’s gonna be a star,” he says to the camera, pointing at Flint, who makes some gruff noise of dismissal. He looks back at the camera, still a little hesitant. But with Danny’s enthusiasm, it’s a wonderful contrast.
    Eventually, we make our way out of everyone’s hugging and excited cheering, and wander back into the store. “They really love you,” I tell him. I’ve never seen employees adore their boss that much. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen someone who owns a chain of businesses be so cool with his staff.
    “Eh, I’ve known them a long time.” He pulls out a tray of cap screws; I feel like he’s trying especially hard not to look at the camera.
    “Does it make you feel weird? Talking about people loving you?” I ask. The normal part of me wants to put the camera away when he’s uncomfortable. The producer part focuses in.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice is sharp, and he glares at me for a second. Instantly, the angry look vanishes. “Jesus, I’m sorry. It’s just…seeing them all so excited. It makes me more nervous. Does that make sense?” He finally looks back into the lens. No, he looks past it, at me. “I can’t let them down.”
    “You won’t,” I say. “You can’t possibly be so bad on camera that you’ll embarrass them.” I laugh a little, but he doesn’t join in.
    “Can I tell you something privately?” He points at the camcorder, a little wary, like it’s going to take a bite out of him. I shut it off.
    “What is it?” I ask. Flint looks over at Jeanine, laughing with a customer. He grimaces.
    “I got an offer from Smith & Warren Hardware.” He says the name like it’s poison in his mouth. Even I know who they are. They make Home Depot look like a dumpy little outlet store.
    “That’s impressive,” I say, eyes widening.
    “The payout was good. They want to take the stores, incorporate them into their chain.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “But I know what that means. They’ll cut corners wherever they can to drive profits—and that means filling my shelves with cheaper merchandise, letting go some of my staff, and cutting down on hours and benefits. But Jeanine’s mother’s in a nursing home. I make sure my people have insurance that covers their families, too, but there’s no guarantee she’ll get that with Smith & Warren. Even if they let her keep her job.” He closes his eyes, the defensive thing guys do when they don’t want you to see their pain. When they have to be strong.
    “You take really good care of your people,” I murmur.
    “That’s what everyone’s supposed to do,” Flint says, like it’s the most natural idea in the world. Natural for him, maybe, but not for me. I work in Hollywood, for starters, land of throwing the weak under the bus. And my parents were both accountants, very logical and orderly. They had to quantify things like how much they loved you. ‘I love you more than central air conditioning’ was one of the really nice things they used to say to me. And they’d mean it, too. Which was doubly weird.
    But I can tell that when Flint loves something, or someone, it’s with so much of himself that he’s afraid to show it. That kind of passion is overwhelming.
    “You always do the right thing, don’t you? You don’t even have to think about it. I wish more people were like that,” I say, shaking my head in admiration. Flint looks into my eyes and I know he’s searching me, seeking out any sign of artifice or pandering— but he’ll find none.
    “I have to take care of my people,” he repeats. He picks up a screw,