My Wreckage: Camp Nanowrimo (July)- In Editing

Chapter 2: This Morning (Troy)

Troy

(Present)

Appreciating another hum-drum day at the restaurant. I started my routine as usual and took my sweet ass time doing it. Work had been slow. Technically, it was supposed to be the cold months and work is usually slow, but the recession had hit Trenton like one of our bad hurricanes and left everyone struggling. People were leaving, it was just bad.

Even I thought about, but where would I go. I'd live with Zeke just look all out of place in his rock star life. I was guessing that was what my retirement had in store, but I was dragging my feet with that. I was not ready to retire at all, and I was not ready to leave Trenton Island. I had my plot picked out next to my mothers. I'd been here too long to leave now.

Then that was settled, I how I was going to afford to pay bills, both at my place and here. Many times I thought about just moving in to the restaurant, or buying a Winnebago and camp outside. Then, I thought about renting out my house, that was basically the house that I grew up in, and my mom grew up in. It had been passed down to me. That seemed like the plan if I could just trust anyone enough to take care of it.

Zeke would throw a party in it every weekend, and when he was on tour he wouldn't keep it up. The sad fact was until I could fix my dilemma.

There was a knock against the glass door drawing my attention upward. Normally, I would have just brushed anyone away but I was supposed to open shop at least thirty minutes ago. So I closed the register and walked to the door. The guy wore a pair of business slacks and a white dress shirt, so immediately I knew he wasn't from around here, and immediately I got a bad feeling about this guy, but I held in judgments.

I turned over the sign to open and invited him in. "Wow! I thought you opened at nine, I'm sorry."

"No, I'm running a little behind schedule today." I chuckled watching him walk over to the bar. "What can I get you. It's going to take me a minute to fire up the grill."

"You don't have a chef?"

I came around the bar counter hoping to God this guy wasn't a health inspector. Not that I had anything to hide, but the fact that my chef was late couldn't have been a good thing. "Yeah. He usually gets here about ten."

"But the place opens at nine?" He pointed out. Nothing got by him.

"I scratched my stubble running my fingers through my hair. "Well, we're usually pretty slow for the breakfast shift. I felt it was a one man job."

He nodded as his eyes scrolled the bar table as if looking for something unsanitary.

I clenched my hands together. "Can I get you anything?"

"Um...a beer."

I squinted. A beer at Nine thirty in the morning. I flipped a mug out from the bottom of the counter. "It's five o'clock somewhere eh?"

Filled it from the tap and slid it over to him. "So what brings you over to this neck of the woods?"

He took a thick sip from his glass and set it down with both hands. "It's funny you should ask."

That was when Nick, my chef walked in. He was a heavy-set guy that always seemed to look red with sun burn. I sometime thought maybe it was because he spent so much time around stoves and in the sun. Either way, he was a damn good chef, and he was loyal. That was what I needed. Loyalty. Sometimes, I thought he would work for peanuts although I never wanted to test that theory.

"What's up, Troy." He stuck up two fingers making his way toward the back.

I shot him a nod and went back to my only customer. "I'm sorry, that's my chef." I said, "If you're hungry he makes the best flap jacks this side of South Carolina."

"No this is fine." He tilted the glass.

"So what brings you to our little slice of paradise?" I propped my hands on the bar.

"My name is Wesley Fredricks," He offered his hand.

I shook his hand and I couldn't stop the feeling there was something off about him. "Hi Wes, I'm Troy Walker, I own this place."

He sucked in a heavy breath and let it out. "I know."

I studied him wondering what I he meant by that.

"I mean, a lot of people around here talk about you."

"All good I hope."

He took a sip of his beer. "Yes. They say you are practically the mayor here."

I chuckled leaning on the bar. "I wouldn't say that, but I am a staple around here, I guess."

His lips twitched. "Yeah."

"So what do you do for a living Mr. Fredricks?"

He took another sip. "I'm a developer."

My nostrils flared and all at once I knew exactly who he was. "And I'm not talking anymore. So you can feel free to leave. The beer is on me, with a word of advice. Go home. Leave us the hell alone. We don't like your kind around here." Sure I sounded like a redneck that had a shotgun under the bar, and I wanted him to think just that.

"I'm aware that you may have heard about me, but can you hear me out."

I pushed in my knuckles. "I'm not going to tell you again." I growled, "Get out!"

He raised his hands "Fine, but I'll be back and you'll need to hear me out. I think I can help you."

I grit my teeth. "Do I need to help you find the door?"

"Fine." He said, "But you'll have to consider my offer sooner or later."

"Get out!" I yelled.

"You're going to have to think about the future." He said as he scurried out the door.

"Fuck a future!" I growled charging toward the door. "Get the hell out."

"I'll be back." He said as he opened the door.

"I'll be waiting for you." I smugged.

He walked out and I saw him get into a white BMW and take off.

I ran my hand over my face. Just what I needed I thought.

"Who was it." Nick peaked out.

"That fucking developer." I said, "Mr. Jenson, warned me about that little prick. He's trying to push everyone out of our town and build some uppity resort."

"Damn, man!"

I sighed. Damn was right. It had always been customary for someone to kick me when I was down, and I knew at this point I had reached rock bottom, so this was right on time. I didn't know how much fight I had left in me but I knew I couldn't let that jerk off take this place without a fight. I decided that I needed to call around and have a community meeting. He was just one guy and were were many. A community and I knew we would all pull together. We wouldn't let him run us all out of town. If anything we would send him running like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.