Strange Weather

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1

Hey! Darce.

Look, you shouldn't be

out here either.

Too many people come out

at the same time,

she's gonna bust us.

- And then what?

- Mmm?

No more gardening at night.

Hey, you know how that

cramps your style.

Well, I got these roses

on sale at Walmart today.

I get 'em in the ground

while the soil's cooled off,

else they're gonna wither.

Serves you right if they wither,

shopping at Walmart.

You want me to make coffee in

the morning or you gonna do it?

Me. I'll see you at 7:00.

Get some sleep.

It's too hot.

Agh, it already feels like

I switched the blow dryer

on "high" and held it up

to my face for half an hour.

It doesn't help that

you're driving around

in a mini sweat lodge.

Hello, folks.

Today we're heading into

our 88th consecutive day

of no rain here

in north Georgia in this,

the hottest September on record.

And there's no rain in sight.

Oh, sh*t, space cowboy.

Don't look, don't look,

don't look, don't look.

What?

He knows your truck.

Don't make eye contact.

Christ.

He's never awake this time of...

Hey, Clay, how you doing?

Do you have a second, Darcy?

I don't want to alarm you,

because there is nothing

to worry about yet,

but the Dean's been discussing

budget cuts and layoffs again,

and we may have to pare down

on administrative assistants.

Uh-huh.

I know you were interested

in a tuition option

- after two years of service.

- Right.

Did you get your application in?

Good, ma in American lit.

Ba. Ba.

I never got my degree.

Well, good for you

for finishing it now.

Oh, also, you may have to pay

in more to the health plan.

You don't have

any dependents, correct?

No.

So they need you

to get out there

and find the money

and be all charming,

so you're totally safe,

and geri,

you know everything there is

to know about computers.

Plus not to be blunt,

but you got race and gender

on your side.

- Funny how things work out sometimes.

- Shut up.

I think it'll be fine, darce.

Don't stress.

You could always ask Clayton

for your old job back.

No. No, no, no.

No, she was the world's

worst waitress.

- No.

- Oh.

I'll see you after work,

sweetheart.

Love you.

- Oh, pardon me.

- Sorry.

Oh. Oh.

Are you...

s that Kevin?

Kevin Jenkins?

Miss baylor,

how you been keeping?

Fine.

I'm sorry, Kevin.

I... I almost didn't

recognize you.

You just...

Look so different.

This here is my wife, Beth.

Oh, excuse me.

I'm Darcy, Darcy baylor.

Kevin was friends

with my son Walker.

They had some run together,

those two.

Yep.

From kindergarten all the way

through to grad school.

They were thick as thieves.

Kevin told me all about it.

Such a loss.

I can't imagine how painful...

This your first?

We've got three boys already.

This is a boy, too.

Aren't you a little young

to have that many kids, Kevin?

I'm almost 32, Ms. baylor.

We're up from Birmingham

visiting mama.

I run an accounting firm

down there now, so.

Well, you remember me to her.

Yes, ma'am, of course.

Here you go, zipper.

- Hey.

- Hey.

Want to come over?

I'm fixing a salad.

I can't, working late.

Dean says the funding letter's

gotta go out,

and I'm up to my eyeballs

trying to track down

any alum that's got money.

Mm, donations

are in short supply, huh?

Mostly, but I just found

one prospect who's loaded,

apparently.

Wasn't Walker friends

with some guy named mark Wright?

Mark Wright.

Oh, he's from

New Orleans originally?

The very one.

Yeah.

He and Walker were in

business school together.

I never liked that kid.

He had weird-ass energy.

Huh, so, what can you tell me

about mark Wright?

I don't know.

Walker kind of idolized him.

I could never figure out why.

He was from some rich family.

Yeah.

He was dealing coke all over.

Not like he had to.

But nobody ever bothered him

about it

'cause he was a legacy.

Did you see that?

Heat lightning.

It's a big fat tease.

Not like we're getting any

actual precipitation out of it.

Anyway, mark was always

hiring Walker

to do sh*t jobs like pick up

his dry cleaning

because he knew

he was hard up for cash.

Well, you know what they say.

Money begets money.

Mark Wright's worth something

like 5 million bucks now.

- What?

- Made it all in this chain

of restaurants down

in Louisiana.

- You shaving your legs or something?

- No.

- What kind of restaurant?

- Oh, it's ridiculous.

It's like make

your own hot dogs,

dogs the way you want them,

something like that.

Hot dogs.

Yeah.

Like ones made

with all-natural ingredients,

and some of them are vegetarian?

- Uh-huh.

- Like tofu?

- Uh-huh.

- Is it called the dawg house?

Like d-a-w-g?

Yeah, d-a-w-g.

How'd you know that?

Darce?

Are you still there?

I gotta go.

Hey.

Last time I saw that look

on your face,

it was the night that you broke

that menu board

over some guy's head

when he grabbed your ass

when you set down his meatloaf.

I was in the stock room

minding my own business,

and I heard "cr-ack."

Cleaved it clean in two.

Darcy?

If you didn't want to see me,

what you come in here for?

It's good to get out

of the house sometimes.

Byrd told me you're worried

about your job.

Town crier.

Are you going to quit

being cryptic or what?

Remember when you, me,

and Walker dug this bed?

I do.

He's been coming up

all day today.

Some days, you know,

he just sort of surfaces.

Some days not at all.

When he was real little

and I barely had

two pennies to rub together,

there was one thing

we would always do on Saturdays,

and that was walk up to Louie's

and get hot dogs.

I'd get two everythings.

He'd get a chili dog.

We'd both get lemonades,

and then we'd walk home.

It didn't matter what it was

like out weather-wise.

Eating our hot dogs, you know,

talking about this and that.

Even in the rain.

We considered it good luck

to eat a hot dog in the rain.

Once Walker got done

with his lemonade,

he'd hold my hand

up till he was around 10 or so,

and then he quit.

Well, the time's gonna come

when a boy eventually lets go

of his mama's hand.

When he was getting

his business plan together

for grad school,

he wanted to start a chain

of family restaurants

where you can make

your own hot dog,

and I thought to myself,

I took this child to museums

and read him good books

and paid for cello lessons,

and all he's hanging onto

is the hot dogs.

Well, he had his own ideas

about what he wanted to do.

He worked the whole thing out,

real detailed.

I know, 'cause

I typed it up for him.

And then his professor

handed it back

and told him that business plan

was never gonna fly.

Was that the professor

you stared at real hard

when he parked his Honda

by the light downtown and then,

poof, his engine died?

Yeah.

He was only 24.

If I could've gotten him

over that hump.

If... if I could've

just helped him...

Get a little further.

If he even made it to 30,

he would've been okay.

I know.

I know you believe that.

But you just gotta quit blaming

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