Guys from the print shop cashed their checks every Friday, had a little party right in the parking lot.
Opened someone’s trunk, played some music, argued about Seth Curry and Kevin Durant, and naming stadiums after companies instead of people.
They always bought Gory a forty-ouncer. Took turns. Kinda made Gory feel like it was a chore, but he always showed up at Junction Party Store little after 5 o’clock, every Friday.
Gory had been working at Ambassador Car Wash thirty years, couldn’t remember why he asked for Friday off all those years ago, but he got a free forty out of the deal now.
Looked at the young bucks from the print shop, jealous of their age, their relative youth, jealous that they could read.
When they talked basketball it made Gorman Harvey Elliman remember Orlando Kelvin. He couldn’t read neither, but Orlando was 6’7”, so the basketball coach got him a tutor.
Thought about how he should have screamed: “I can’t read neither, motherfucker, ain’t my fault I’m 5’10”.”
Orlando Kelvin got good at reading, tried to help Gory. Made Gory get over that first hurdle, phonics, that type of shit, then Orlando got a scholarship to a small school down in Florida, made the tournament one year. On TV and everything. 16 seed, got blown out by Duke.
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