“Bee Stings.”

Glen’s tongue, thick and heavy from the excessive amounts of Hamm’s he consumed, made it hard to understand any word he spoke with an ‘s’ in it. The foreman of a hot asphalt roofing crew for Loren Smallen, Glen was happiest off the roof, smoke burning between the fingers of his right hand and a cold Hamm’s beer in his left, wrapped in a koozie. His eyes were halfway closed, the cigarette burning closer to his fingers, a two-inch long ash hanging precariously from the end of it. “Beestings. You gotta watch out for them. Especially when you’re mopping. Those little suckers hurt!” He shouted, the ash falling to the deck.

Dave, J.B., Glen, Wes, and Theo were sitting outside Dave’s house, a four-bedroom ranch home with one-story and a low-slanted 3/12 pitched roof. The five roofers sat outside under the slowly setting sun, enjoying the evening air, a bit cool for mid-May.

Theo was a young guy and friends with Wes, the youngest of the crew. Theo came to the union with a strong work ethic and a reputation for being one of the hardest-working apprentices of Roofers Local 49. Theo started his roofing career on single-ply white rubber roofing systems before Wes suggested working for his company, Anderson Roofing. Theo worked hard for the first month with the JP Stevens system single-ply material, tearing off and running a screw gun, quickly earning him a reputation as one of the most intelligent guys on the crew. Construction guys weren’t intellectual, one reason Theo’s first foreman picked him from all the other apprentices. Theo’s first job with the experienced journeyman crew was running a heat welder. No apprentice ran a welder. That was a job reserved for seasoned roofers. But Theo’s foreman trusted him, earning him a reputation throughout Local 49. Hearing the rumors about Theo, Wes talked to Glen about bringing him to the Anderson crew. “Okay. We’ll give him a shot,” Glen said back at Anderson’s warehouse shop.

J.B., mouthy as ever, quipped, “If he ain’t that good, I’m tossin’ ‘im off the deck; got me, Wesley?” Wes smirked, knowing full well that J.B. was more bark than bite. Like an old dog, J.B. was comfortable on the roof. His handling of a hot mop rivaled other journeymen. J.B. let rolls of felt fly over the hot tar, landing in just the right spot, rarely having to adjust the placement. Simplex nails rolled through his fingers like a professional Blackjack dealer in a Las Vegas casino. Not once did J.B. hit his fingers; if he did, he’d never let you know! Only Glen surpassed J.B. when it came to nailing base sheets.

Theo’s first week was rough, but he kept up with the crew, solidifying himself as a hard-working apprentice who wasn’t afraid to do what he was told as long as it was safe. Theo knew the dangerous nature of working on the roof, especially at least twenty-five feet off the ground, often higher than that! Theo never stood around with the Anderson crew, another thing setting him apart from other journeymen and apprentices. Every few weeks, the crew was mandated to take on either an apprentice or a journeyman. Most never lasted more than a few days, if that. Theo recognized the differences between a seasoned journeyman and someone who claimed as much before he finished ninety days with Anderson.

“Beestings, kid,” Glen said, finishing in his blue flannel pocket for another smoke. “See?” He lit the cigarette and pulled up the long sleeves, showing Theo what he thought to be tiny chickenpox scars scattered up and down his arms. “These marks here? That’s what happens,” J.B. handed him another beer, taking the empty from his koozie and replacing it with a fresh one, “when you ain’t careful. Just remember, this stuff is boiling hot. It’s what temperature, Wes?”

“We run it at five-fifty. Sometimes a touch hotter.”

“And,” Glen squinted at Wes, “what happens if it gets above five-hundred-fifty degrees?”

J.B. jumped up, shouting, “BOOM!” using his hands to animate a massive explosion, messing up his wild hair. For good measure, he stuck out his tongue at Theo, laughing. The scraggly beard and his few missing front teeth added to the effect. J.B.’s whiteish-gray hair was frightening enough for thirty-eight years, much less anyone older.    

“A cup of water will stop it from flashing,” Wes said. “One cup. That’s all. No more. No less.” His eyes were slightly closed, staring off the deck into the starry night sky.

Glen, nodding, took a sip of his beer, a drag from his smoke, and, exhaling, said, “Yup. Don’tcha forget it neither.” He held up his right index finger, still holding his smoke while pointing at Theo. “It don’t take much to cool down asphalt.”

Theo wasn’t saying much, enjoying the night air and the conversation between the seasoned roofers and Wes. Theo knew, as did the others, that Wes was drunk because he was smiling. It was a cocky, arrogant smile. It was the kind of smile that said, ‘Go ahead and mess with me. I’ll take care of you,’ and you knew, that smile said it all, that he was probably right!

“Four A.M. is gonna be here fast, so I’m going to take off,” Theo smiled at Glen, standing up. “Wes? Need a ride?”

“Do I look like I need a ride?” Wes stood up way too fast, falling into Theo and kissing him on Theo’s left cheek. “Muah!” Laughing, Wes grabbed onto Theo’s shoulders, almost falling over again. “Are you saying I’m drunk?” His head bobbled back and forth, attempting to focus on Theo’s head. “Dude! Your head is misshaped. Kinda like my wife’s.”

“Nah, Wes,” Dave pipped up, “You know Mel looks like Sideshow Bob with that kinky hair of hers!” Dave, the middle child of the crew, was a bit of a hothead, high-tempered, and let off steam by screaming in people’s faces – then immediately was calm, almost as though it was scream therapy.  

“You know what they say about women with kinky hair, dontcha Wesley?” J.B. shot at Wes, raising his eyebrows like Groucho Marx, trying to get a rise out of him. J.B. was the practical joker of the group. Several times on the roof, J.B. would stick tar paper to the apprentices, Theo included, and mock other guys on the crew, typically Wes or Dave. Once in a great while, he’d take on Glen, but Glen was cool as a cucumber, laughing off all the joking. Unless it was a safety violation. Theo saw that happen earlier this week, J.B. taking a considerable risk with some of the material and the crane operator. Glen wasn’t having it, screaming at J.B., almost to the point where J.B. was forced to go home for the day. It wasn’t a regular thing. But Glen was nursing a hangover, too, which didn’t help J.B.’s case.

“Come on, Wes. Time to go,” Theo said, snatching Wes by the shoulder before Wes could square off against J.B. Glen and Dave knew it was time for Wes to go, seeing as how he was ready to start a fight with J.B. The last time that happened was a little over a year ago. J.B. pulled a prank on Wes. Neither man forgot about it.

“J.B.,” Wes staggered, closing one eye. He did his best to point at J.B. “I’m watching you.” J.B. pointed a finger gun back at Wes, clicking his cheek and winking. “I mean it.”

“Come on, Wes.”

“Glen? I may not come in tomorrow,” Wes slurred.

“Fine by me. Theo? You up to take over for Wes?”

Suddenly, Wes perked up. “Aw, hell naw! You can’t do that, Glen!”

Glen toasted Wes with the fresh beer brought by J.B. “Can and will.” Glen swigged the beer. “So I’ll see you tomorrow then, Wesley? I’ll be there. J.B.?”

“Yep. I’ll be there, boss.”

“Dave?” Glen asked, pointing at Dave.

“Sure, I’ll be there in the morning,” Dave nodded, polishing off his third beer. Dave never drank all that much, especially not on a work night.  

Glen lit another cigarette after crushing out his last one. With the smoke between his lips, he asked Theo, “You be there too?”

Theo nodded, smiling at Glen. “Did you mean it? If Wes doesn’t show up I can do his job?”

Glen grinned and nodded yes.

“Theo? We gotta go,” Wes said, grabbing Theo’s arm and heading toward the F-100 pickup. After his driving while intoxicated charge, Wes allowed Theo to drive his 1970’s truck.

“I mean it, Theo. If he don’t show,” Glen thumbed toward Wes, “you’re up.”

“Cool,” Theo answered.

“Come on, man. We got an early start,” Wes spat, banging on the passenger side door. “Let’s go already.”

“Tomorrow, gents!” J.B. shouted, winking and blowing Wes a kiss.

“I’m going to bed, Glen,” J.B. said, walking toward his small R.V. parked in Glen’s driveway. “See ya in the mornin’.” The door slammed before Theo pulled out of the driveway.