It was a hot day in the kitchen. I was washing some pots when the boss came up to me.
“Ivan, I need you to work this Sunday.”
I was glad for the opportunity, a Sunday shift meant a bigger paycheck. “Sure. What’s this Sunday, Rich?”
“We’re doing a cookout for the First Presbyterian. Imma need you to cook up a bunch of franks and patties and some veggie stuff for the herbivores.”
“No problem, Rich. I’ve done I cookout with you before, remember?”
“So,” I asked without raising my head from a pan, “Reverend Johnson is going to be there, right?”
“Yeah,” Rich said and I could tell he was smiling, “And that daughter of his, too.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said.
Outside, summer was reaching its climax.