Free The Slide: A Novel by Kyle Beachy

mouthpiece.
    “Mom?”
    “There’s a man on the phone for you. I should have asked his name.”
    I smiled. She smiled. Then she left.
    “Hello?”
    “Mr. Mays. Exciting news to share.”
    “I don’t know who you are,” I said.
    “Alex, from ProTemps. This morning I received a request for a set of legs at the Pine Ridge Water Company.”
    How early, exactly, did everyone else in the world begin their day?
    “It’s six-thirty.”
    “Yes it is! Now, Potter, you’re to show up at Pine Ridge Water Co’s main offices in the Hanley Industrial Park and report to a Ms. Deborah short Debbie Dinkles, who has assured me that the position is not mentally taxing. Dress is casual, allowing for movement. Any questions?”
    None. I knew: where to go, when, what to wear, and who to find. I dressed in shorts and running shoes. Breakfast was of course ready in the kitchen.
    “I think I just got a job.”
    The parents locked eyes in some private moment of confirmation. Carla went to open the refrigerator and look inside. The newspaper sat folded open next to my father’s breakfast. He was nodding.
    “I’m glad to hear it. Good for you.”
    It didn’t appear that my mother was looking for anything in particular, just standing upright in the open door, wet with early-morning sweat.
    “What did you find?” he asked.
    “No clue.” I dipped toast into runny egg yolk. “Something at the Pine Ridge Water Company.”
    “Good for you. I’m glad to hear it.”
    It was a minute before my mother shut the refrigerator and stepped away with the makings for three miniature sandwiches, which she handed to me by the front door with a small smile and a series of blinks. Thank you.
    At Pine Ridge, I was surprised to find myself ushered into the small office of Debbie Dinkles, president of the company, where I sat and listened attentively. I kept my hands folded in my lap and maintained eye contact. Debbie was a thin, anxious woman who hotched around as she spoke, rearranging papers on the desk and constantly adjusting her chair. Pine Ridge delivered five-gallon bottles of water in three grades, Purified, Natural Spring, and Premium. They had a crew of drivers to handle daily delivery routes, but they needed someone to pick up the extra orders they expected as a response to their Summer Special promotion. Three complimentary bottles along with a free month of cooler rental: a trial offer that expired after a month, at which point normal billing would commence automatically. I would potentially drive a van, installing coolers and bottles for new customers.
    “The question is,” she said, pushing a bowl of M&M’s across the desk, “can I trust you? Are you a reliable and hard worker?”
    “I believe so, Debbie.” I reached for a handful of candy. “Of course, to be totally honest I can’t say for sure. I know my father is the single hardest worker I’ve ever seen. Work is to him what breath is to me. So it would stand to reason that I’d be both reliable. And hard.”
    “Father.” She looked to a file in front of her, which I hoped wasn’t the file from ProTemps. “I wondered when they sent this over. I thought, Mays. I wonder if he’s Richard’s son? ”
    I nodded.
    “Richard Mays! The Small Local Business Initiatives. And I can see it in the nose. Of course.”
    “Dad’s great,” I said, reaching for the M&M’s.
    “Then I’ll make a copy of your driver’s license, okay, and we’ll get hopping.”
    Outside her office, I was given a deep-green parody of a Polo shirt with the company’s logo embroidered on the left breast. I met Dennis Looper, a pockmarked delivery manager in his upper forties with anemic gray hair running laterally across his head. He took me along for a day’s work and made me follow our progress on a road map in my lap. He showed me how to carry bottles so your hand doesn’t fall off. My hand almost fell off. He espoused copious opinions on race, gender, the endemic idiocy of the world. He gave me