Tuna Fish and Torture Clubs

My car is parked in the street across the street with its hazards on. It is impossible finding parking in this area. I get in and start driving, looking for a parking spot to play with my phone in. It takes me several blocks to find one. Traffic is pretty bad. I keep imagining my boss coming up to the car window and knocking. They would be so upset.

I take my lunch when I get back to the store. I walk home and make a tuna fish sandwich on potato bread. I use Havarti cheese because it is all we have left in the house. I put peperoncinis and Dijon mustard on the sandwich.

I feed the dog and take him out to the bathroom, brush my teeth and head back into work.

There is an order for the torture club, the swinger’s club, the strip club, the whiskey club, The Terminal, and West.

I load them into the van and head to the torture club. There are eight boxes for them. It takes two trips up their rain slick ramp. I am afraid I might slip, but I don’t. The door is unlocked, which is rare. The bar manager, Jack, meets me with cash. It’s a lot of twenties. There is one fifty in the stack which throws my count off. There are a couple of one dollar bills and even some dollars made up of quarters. He tips me in quarters and one gold coin. He always tips me.

On my first count I am off by forty dollars. Jack has left the area. I don’t want him to think I stole it. It would be so easy to do. He trusts me. I recount the money and find the forty dollars. I am grateful.


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