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Even through the battered door, Lucy’s shouting made him jump. Slowly, he cracked open the door to see the action. Uncle Gus stood in front of the bar owner, wringing a dirty towel with his head hanging low. As much yelling as Uncle Gus could give out was about as much as he was now getting back from Lucy.
    Lucy’s eyes bulged, and he slapped the crowbar into the palm of his hand.
    “Do I look like a bank?” Lucy yelled. “You know what happens to people who don’t pay?”
    Lucy raised the crowbar and Uncle Gus cringed. As angry as Ty had been in the truck ride over, he now felt terrible for his uncle, cowering like a puppy. Over in the eating area, Charlotte flipped on the vacuum and went to work on the carpet without seeming to pay attention. Ty eased the door shut and went to work. Not until he was finishing up with the toilet did the shouting subside. He heard Lucy go into the officeon the other side of the wall and slam the door.
    The toilet brush slipped from Ty’s hand and clattered down into the corner of the stall. As Ty bent to pick it up, his ear brushed the rusty vent near the floor. That’s when he heard the faint echo of a voice. Ty glanced over his shoulder, then touched his ear to the grate to hear Lucy talking on the phone to someone about a delivery of beer. Being able to hear the bar owner without his knowing sent a chill of danger up Ty’s spine.
    When the bathroom door suddenly swung open, Ty jumped. A shadow fell across him and he peered out from the stall.
    “Can I get in there?”
    Above him loomed Mike, the cook, all six foot seven, four hundred pounds of him. Ty pushed his glasses up on his nose, swallowed, and nodded, then glanced at the door.
    “Don’t worry about your uncle,” the big man rumbled through his big dark beard. “They do this every couple weeks. Every time your uncle bets big, he loses big. Lucy won’t really hurt him. He just talks like that.”
    Ty squeezed past Mike and reached for the door-knob. As he did, he noticed the backpack slung over the big man’s shoulder and he wondered what it contained and why Mike would bring it into the bathroom with him.
    “I used to have to go down the street to the Subway to use the bathroom,” Mike said, wedging himself into the stall, closing the door, and dumping his backpack before letting his belt buckle clank to the floor with his pants. “Your uncle, he thinks throwing a bucket of ammonia in here and slamming the door is cleaning.”
    Ty didn’t know how to respond. Should he thank the big man? Or tell him he wanted to do more with his life than cleaning toilets? He ended up saying nothing.
    “You like that booger trick with your uncle?” Mike asked, his voice echoing off the tiled walls.
    Ty froze. “You didn’t do that to me, did you?”
    The stall was silent for a moment before Mike sighed and said, “Your uncle’s a horse’s backside. I saw him giving you crap for having a donut and it ticked me off. A kid can’t have a donut without catching grief?”
    Ty breathed easier. “I laughed.”
    “I’ll get him again with some earwax on your way out. Watch. Hey, don’t stay here on account of me,” Mike said. “It’s about to get pretty bad.”
    Ty ducked out and saw his uncle sitting at the bar with his head in his hands. When Ty came out from cleaning the women’s room, Uncle Gus was still there, but now Lucy had rejoined him. As if on cue, the two of them swung their heads around to look at him. Uncle Gus signaled for Ty to come over.
    Ty hesitated, then set his buckets down and crossed over to the bar. He stopped several feet in front of the two men and looked hard at their feet.
    “Hey, kid,” Lucy said in a manner so friendly that Ty looked up to see if it had come from someone else. Lucy pointed the crowbar at him. “I got a deal for you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    “GUS TELLS ME YOUR brother wants to spend a little quality time with you,” Lucy said. “Take you to the NFL draft?”
    Ty glanced at