“Maybe you can give Sammy some love advice,” Matt says looking at me over the top of his cards, “I mean, you know, since you and Lora have been together so long.”

I glance at Sammy but see he’s up getting John a Coke and didn’t hear what Matt said. “I don’t think so,” I say softly so Sammy won’t hear and ask questions.

Matt and John look surprised. Ken keeps his same old skeptical smile.

“But you and Lora have always been great,” Matt says, “you were high school sweethearts even.”

I nod. “Yeah, but that was ten years ago. Lately she doesn’t want much to do with me,” I say, “Hell, the last two weeks she won’t even talk to me.”

“Who won’t?” Sammy asks returning to the table with John’s drink.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say looking up at him, “go get me another beer.”

Sammy does as he’s told and the rest of us get back to our cards.

He brings me another Pabst as I finish my cigar. “Thanks for the smoke,” I say to Ken.

He answers back by laying his cards on the table and showing another full house.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” John yells throwing his cards in the air.

The night continues the same way, with Ken winning most of our money, until a little after eleven.

“Time I was getting off to work,” Sammy says.

We all nod and shake hands and put away our toys and garbage while Sammy changes into his uniform in Matt’s bathroom.

Moments later Sammy comes out and says his goodbyes. We’re going the same way, but I always let him leave first since he’s in a hurry to get to work..

“Good luck on that patio,” Ken says to me as I’m walking out the door. “Give me a call next week if you need me to help you with it.”

“Thanks, I might just do that,” I say walking out on the wooden porch.

I breath in the cold night’s air and instinctively reach for what’s left of the Marlboros squashed in my jacket pocket. With the strong taste of cigars on my tongue, I decide to pass on the cigarette.

Trodding out to my truck, I pass Ken’s Bronco.

In the brightness given off by the light above the trailer’s front door, I can see mud covering the four-wheel-drive vehicle’s back tires. I step forward and blink as I notice the mud is a dark rust color, nearly red.

Shivering, I glance back at the trailer. Laughter comes to me even though the door there is closed. The game is finished for the night, but the boys will stay around a little longer to swallow some brews and to tell some tales.

I stop next to the bed of my Ford and my hand reaches in the back for the heavy tire tool that’s rested there since the last time I had a flat two summers ago. Without feeling it, I watch my pale hand lift the cold steel thing and heft its weight. I look to the door of the rusting trailer again and the tire tool slips from my fingers, causing a solid clang in the back of the truck.

In the front seat of the Ford, I light the last unbroken Marlboro I have. The window is rolled down as I pull out of the driveway onto 772. The night air of the hills is cold on my face.

Other short stories

Just Like Fourth of July

Cadillac Dreams

Entering Jupiter