Last Day?

 Barney's head felt cold in the Cape Cod breeze.   Maybe he should have left his hat on.   After all it was only April.   He looked up and down the line.   Most of the guys still had their jackets on f'crissake, and here he was laying brick in his shirtsleeves

and without a hat.   The only other guy without a hat was that dumb guinea Frazzio or Nunzio or whatever.   Ten years since he picked up the tools and he still hadn't learnt nothin' about workin' union.   Paddy looked up as Barney swore softly.   He shudda kept his eyes open.  Where the hell was Tom?   He reached furtively for his jacket, then noticed the foreman coming across the parking lot.   He used the cover of lighting a cigarette to put on his hat.  Paddy straightened up and removed his coat so he wouldn't have to lay any of Barney's brick and the tempo of the line bumped to an unbalanced stop.   The tender, realizing his chance, slid off the staging to pick up the cuts.   By the time the brickie forman reached  the staging the line was back into pace.   Cuts were set up at each arch.   The laborer had enough mortar spread to cool it, and all the bricklayers had hats on and coats off. The laborer looked busy and the brickies knew how to be seen but not noticed.

                           Barney picked up his tools, draped his jacket over his shoulder, and climbed down the ladder, with his back to the rungs.   Tom walked closer.

"Paddy" he said, looking up "If you're not feeling well you should go home like Barney here.   If not then get to work"

He turned to Barney and lowered his voice

"Take a week or two to think it over.   Then call me at home"

Barney opened his mouth but Tom was already yelling up at the laborer to get the cuts and moving swiftly down the line.   

Barney drove his battered pick-up into the barroom parking lot, got out, and walked toward the back door.   Halfway there he stopped and went back for his jacket