One
Emery
Ican feel their eyes following me as I walk through the skeleton of a house. Men are everywhere, tool belts strapped tightly to their waists, power drills and hammers in their hands. It’s my first day on this job, and already I can tell it’s not going to be any different from any of the others.
Being a woman in a man’s field has only one bonus that I can tell. As a female electrician, I am surrounded by men all day long, some of them being quite easy on the eyes. But there are several drawbacks as well.
The men stare. They roll their eyes. They make jokes about me when they think I can’t hear them, and a lot of times they do it to make sure that I do. They don’t care that I’m a certified and talented electrician. All they see are my tits and ass and long silky hair, and automatically assume I can’t do the job without their input. It’s annoying, but after six years of working for Ron Harper Electric, I’m used to it.
Ron had brought me along on this job because he’s one man that knows what I can do. This house is set to be completely finished in less than three weeks, so that means we have to get it wired from the ground up, and fast.
I make my way to the basement and find a place where nobody else is working and put down my toolbox. “As good a place as any,” I say, turning to Ron with a grin.
He glowers at a couple of guys hammering wooden beams into place before turning to me. “Works for me. You take a quick walk through and see that everything is ready for us, and I’ll go grab the supplies.”
I sigh and look around. Aside from a subfloor and the bones of the walls, nothing in this house is anywhere near completion. Contractors from different companies and different trades are still working on building up the outside walls, hammering plywood into place and getting it ready to be bricked over.
My father had been an electrician, and as a little girl, I used to accompany him to some of his jobs during my summer vacation. I’d learned early on how to avoid the cords and power tools and the men that were hard at work. I’d loved watching my dad work though.
I found the whole concept of electricity fascinating. I loved the simplicity of it all. How one wire connects to a box and then to another wire and a switch, all of them combining in the end to run tens of thousands of kilowatts of electricity rushing along, hidden behind walls and powering everything from the tiniest nightlight to the stove that cooks the family’s meal.
When my mother had learned my chosen profession, she’d about had a heart attack. Momma was an old fashioned, stay at home mom and housewife. She didn’t understand why a woman would want to work in a “man’s job,” but I didn’t care. If my father had still been alive, I know he’d have been proud of me, and that’s all that really mattered, as far as I was concerned.
“Yo, honey. Grab me a coffee from downstairs, would ya?”
I glare at the man on the ladder. It isn’t the first time a man has assumed I’m just there to run errands for them, or that I’d drop what I was doing to obey their self-serving bidding. “Grab it yourself, honey,” I shoot back, not pausing on my walkthrough of the house.
Chuckles erupt around us. “She told you, Randy,” one man says.
“Damn,” another one mutters.
I know I shouldn’t do it, but as I turn the corner, I can’t help but look back. The man they’d called Randy is still on the ladder, his narrowed eyes never leaving me. I know from one look just what kind of man he is. There’s at least one on every job I’ve ever done.
A man that assumes he’s the big shot around here. One that tries his damnedest to make me cringe and put me in my place. One that thinks because he’s a man and I’m a woman that anything I have to say is bullshit, but is always sure to take the credit if any is due.
As I make my way up the stairs, my stomach sinks. Just once I’d like to start a new job and not have to worry about assholes like that. Looks like this job isn’t going to be the time though. I’d just earned myself a new enemy.
∞ ∞ ∞
Xander
“I shit you not,” Nutsy says on a laugh. “The stupid prick took a swing and fell right on his ass. Was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Nutsy and I have been friends since we were just kids. I’d met him on the first day of third grade. He and his family had just moved here and some of the kids were being dicks. They’d had him cornered in the bathroom, threatening to dunk his head in a piss filled toilet when I’d walked in.
Being the son of a biker has its advantages. Even kids know not to fuck with you. I’d taken one look at those little bastards and they’d dropped Nutsy right then and there, running out of the room like their hair was on fire. We’d been buds ever since.
“Did Pounder kiss his ass after that?”
Nutsy chuckles. “Oh yeah. Walked right up to him and lifted him off the ground with one hand. Asked him if he knew who he was messing with. One punch and the dumb fuck was out cold.”
I grin. Good old Pounder. I haven’t been spending a lot of time away from the clubhouse with the guys from Satan’s Descendants. I just haven’t felt much like partying since Carla walked out on me. I wasn’t sitting at home pining for her by any means, but I definitely wasn’t up for socializing with a bunch of people that once though her and I were the perfect couple.
I take a bite out of my sandwich, thinking that maybe it’s time I get back into the fun part of being in a club. The parties, the drinking, the brotherhood.
“Check it out.” Nutsy whistles. “You don’t see that on the job very often.”
I follow the direction he’s looking with my eyes, not having a clue what he’s talking about. And then I see her. Tall, lean, tan. Her dark hair is tied back in a braid that falls down to the center of her back. Her tool belt sits low on her hips, accentuating the curve of her waist and long shapely legs.
“Who is that?”
Nutsy shakes his head. “She works for Ron. Can’t remember her name. Word is she’s a real bitch though. Likes to bust men’s balls for just lookin’ at her.”
I watch as the woman walks to Ron’s truck and pulls lunch pail from the back. She looks around for a place to sit and finally settles on just dropping the tailgate and eating all by herself. Every other man out here is staring right at her, a few of them whispering and chuckling softly amongst themselves.
I can’t blame them, really. She’s gorgeous. Looking at her is definitely more appealing than looking at the rest of these fuckers around here. I smirk a little as I watch her pull a book out of her bag, and then a thermos and a couple of plastic containers. She isn’t giving any of these men the satisfaction of a response as they stare and jeer at her.
With her shoulders squared and her head held high, she opens her book, digs out half of a sandwich and begins to eat.
“Crash, you comin’?”
I tear my gaze from the woman and look over at Nutsy. He’s got his drill already in hand, his lunch all packed up. How long have I been watching her?
“Yeah,” I say, stuffing my uneaten food into my lunch box and getting to my feet. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
I take one last look over at the woman as she reads. When Carla left me, I decided that women weren’t worth the hassle. They might be nice to look at, and definitely nice to fuck, but a relationship with a woman can lead to heartache and ruin. I experienced both at the hands of a woman I thought I would one day grow old with.
This woman feels different though. She seems tough. Independent. And I can tell by the way she carries herself that she doesn’t play games.
Doesn’t matter, I tell myself. No woman is worth the hell you’ve gone through. Just keep on walking.