Why do you pick fights with other boys? It's the question Ryan has been running from all his life. The answer will shock you.
For as long as Ryan can remember, he's always wanted to be someone special. Now, a promising high school wrestler and a po...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Luke rushed out of his mother's two bedroom apartment, wearing his Domino's uniform.
God-damn-it, he thought. Not today.
If he didn't make it to work on time, it would be the third time this week. To his credit, it wasn't really his fault. Sharing his mom's 2001 Toyota Camry came with downsides. Bussing to work usually rectified the issue when his mom had irregular nursing hours, but the two hour trip to work for a four to six hour shift was its own kind of hell. If he could get rides from friends, he'd take them, but asking for such favors felt degrading.
Why do you gotta be such a bitch, sometimes? Overthinking his circumstances didn't do him much benefit.
His mom's Camry blew through a 25 mph zone at 47 mph. "Come on. Come on..."
He sped into the parking lot for the strip mall where the Domino's was at, nearly hitting another driver trying to exit. The driver honked for at least five seconds. Luke was pretty sure the driver flipped him off too, but he declined to look.
Sorry, asshole.
Luke parked the car crookedly, deciding there wasn't enough time to adjust.
Just gotta get in there.
He rushed out of the car and entered the Domino's. Before arriving, he was sure his manager would be there to grill him at the front doors. Either that, or dozens of judgemental faces would be looking down upon him.
Paranoia, he thought. Fucking dumb paranoia.
Unsurprisingly, there were no such greetings, at least not at first. The three other visible employees, who Luke had not bothered to socialize with much, were busy working the front counter and making orders.
Luke ran behind the counter, tightening his apron as he did so.
No reason to worry. He began clocking in on one of the registers. You're -
"You're an hour late."
Luke turned to the source of the voice behind him. His manager, Wiley, an out of shape, but imposing tall thirty-year-old, stood with his arms crossed.
"Hey," Luke greeted awkwardly. "Look - I - I know, but here's the thing -"
"An hour." Wiley said, pausing a beat to let the words sink in. "No call. No notice."
"I have to share the car with my mom, sir. I mean - it's her car. Can you just cut me a break?"
"I did." Wiley sighed, unfolding his arms. "I cut you three breaks already. I'm sorry, Luke. I like you, but I got to let you go."
"Oh, come on! Don't say that." It wasn't being fired necessarily that triggered the reaction, it was the embarrassment knowing he couldn't cut it at a Domino's.
