“What? What’s wrong?” I hurry towards the door.

“Amanda’s gonna hog the slushies if we don’t stop her!” Brenda shades her eyes with one hand, waving us towards the house with the other. “Marie! Hurry up and get in here… unless you wanna pry what’s left of our beverage out of her cold, drunk hands!”

“Brenda?” I say.

“Yes?” she answers.

“You’re an asshole,” I reply.

Laughing, we go inside.

Tiny, Rob’s massive Rottweiler, and Princess Pumpkinhead Poopypants the Third, Brenda’s Pomeranian, greet us at the door, prancing, panting and ecstatic to see us.

Marie and I happily return the dogs’ affection, with me bending down to scoop Princess into my arms. “Sweet girl,” I croon, cradling her trembling body and burying my face in her soft fur. She tucks her head under my chin like she does––so adorable!––and, my heart melts. I like dogs just as much as I like cats, but they’re so much more work! Still, Princess is so cute, she always makes me think about getting a Pom of my own.

Meanwhile, Marie wastes no time getting down on her hands and knees on the floor with Tiny, where they wrestle and bump each other like lunatics. Marie unashamedly barks and makes play-charges at the big Rottie, sending him into spasms of joy.

Play-bowing, eyes rolling and tongue lolling, Tiny wags his whole body deliriously, then he jumps back and runs in a tight circle, ears back and stump tail waving a mile a minute.

Then he tears down the hallway like a maniac, claws scrabbling on the floor. At the end of the hallway he puts on the brakes, paws flailing, turns and tears back to Marie, flinging himself down on the floor next to her and rolling onto his back, waving his big paws in the air. His ears, lips and tongue flop all over the place while he chuffs his deep Rottie laughter.

Nothing looks funnier than a big dog being a total goofball. We all laugh and shout encouragement, making him act up even more. What a ham!

And what a welcome! It’s so good to be here.

I put Princess down and we walk into the kitchen just in time to see Amanda peering into a plastic tub full of what looks like half-frozen blood. She digs into it with a spoon and puts a heaping pile of it into her mouth.

“Whoa now! Start without us much?” I say. Turning, she hugs me hello, smiling with her mouth tightly closed.

She swallows. “Mmmm, that’s tasty! Damn right, you’re gonna have to pry this shit from my cold, drunk hands.”

“Oh, you heard that?” Brenda says, laughing.

“All of Columbus heard that,” Amanda retorts.

“Sooooo…do we get some or what?” I say.

“Yeah,” Marie says. “The service here sucks! C’mon, I ain’t got all night!”

“Okay, okay, keep your panties on,” Brenda sets out four tall glasses. Amanda fills each glass about halfway with the deep red slushy mixture and then tops it up with ginger ale, a sliced orange and a maraschino cherry.

“Don’t be stingy with the cherries, either,” I add.

“Picky-ass customer, you are,” she says, grinning. She pops a few more cherries into my drink, puts a bendy straw into each glass and hands them out with a cocktail napkin.

“Points for professional presentation,” Marie says. “But, what the hell is it again? Looks like a blood sacrifice.”

“It’s a bottle of vodka, two quarts of cherry juice and a bag of party slush mix. You freeze it and serve it with ginger ale or soda water or whatever you want. Garnish and voilà…delicious beverage.”

Amanda holds her drink up. “Here’s to the four musketeers,” she says, and we all clink.

“Cheers!” Amanda, me and Brenda chorus, while Marie throws in an amiable “Up yours!”

We each stir and sip, and it is a very tasty beverage indeed. “Mmmm! That is good!” I say. “It’s almost like a Sangria.” I take a few more swallows, enjoying the contrasting flavors.

“So, Marie, did I notice that you and Mark were on each other like white on rice out there?” Brenda teases.

“What? Really?” Amanda says. “Do tell!”

“Yes, they were practically drooling all over each other,” I say. Marie takes a gulp of her drink and waits, grinning at me. I grin back and continue. “It was like witnessing love at first sight. Or, two dogs rutting in the street. One or the other.” We all giggle. “It was outrageous flirting and bald-faced eye-fucking, like, right in front of everyone.” I cross my eyes and hang my tongue out of the side of my mouth.

“Hah! Yeah, I saw some of it through the kitchen window,” Brenda says. “Feel like I should bleach my eyeballs now.”

Laughing, Marie wrinkles her nose, then shoots us all the finger. “You shoulda told me Rob has a cute brother,” she says to Brenda.

“He was off the market until, like, a month ago, I think,” Brenda retorts.

“Oooh, so he is single,” Marie says, wriggling happily.

“Yeah but he’s heart-broken, so, go easy on him,” Brenda says.

“It’d be nice to get the chance,” Marie replies. “Why’d you have to rush them outta here so fast? It’s like you cock-blocked the guy, Brenda!”

“Well, shit. For a minute there, it looked like you were gonna ditch us and go watch that movie with him,” I say to Marie.

“Don’t think I didn’t want to,” Marie says impishly. “I should dump y’alls lame asses and go catch up with him.” Belying her words, she kicks off her shoes and takes a seat at the table, putting her feet up on the chair opposite hers with a contented sigh. “I still might! Didn’t you see how dreamy he is?”

“Well, he’s Rob’s brother, so…yeah.” Brenda says.

“How old?” Marie asks.

“He turns thirty this year.”

“Oh? Not too old, not too old. Those blue eyes! Man oh man!” Marie says. At twenty, she’s a little younger than the rest of us and has never shown a liking for older men.

“I know, right?” Brenda says, smiling. “If they didn’t already look like brothers, those blue eyes’d sure give it away.”

“He sure is gorgeous,” Marie says with a sigh.

“Watch it, ‘Ree,” Amanda says, finishing her drink. “You don’t wanna end up related to Brenda by marriage, like I did.”

“Oh, you got a problem with that?” Brenda says, then reaches over and gives her a pinch. “Ow!” Amanda says, giggling. “Okay, enough bullshit! I’m starving,” she says, waving towards the food waiting on the counters. “When are we gonna eat?”

On the counter are two trays loaded with kebabs, threaded with assorted meats and vegetables. On the stove, a huge pot full of shucked corn on the cob awaits.“Better be soon, before you get too drunk to cook,” Brenda teases her.

“Haha! You don’t really need me to cook anymore, Bren. You’re just getting lazy in your old age. Oooh! That reminds me…what’s the deal with these potatoes?”

She points to a roasting pan full of quartered red potatoes, skin still on. Next to the roasting pan, neatly piled on the cutting board, are some chopped sweet peppers in red, orange and yellow, a pile of broccoli florets and a pile of red onion in chunks. Next to that is a box of onion soup mix and a bottle of olive oil.

I sidle over to the food and help myself to a couple chunks of red pepper.

“Hey!” Brenda playfully smacks my hand before taking a big gulp of her drink. “Okay, okay…oh my fucking God you guys are gonna love these potatoes! This is Rob’s mother’s recipe, okay? Check it out!”

She picks up the roasting pan full of quartered spuds and holds it low, so we can all see the contents. “Here’s your basic potatoes, mmmkay? Nothing special…yet. Now…watch.”

She adds the chopped sweet peppers, the onions and the broccoli florets to the potatoes in the pan, then douses them all with a generous splash of olive oil. “Now, cover and shake to distribute evenly,” she says. She puts the lid on the roasting pan, holds it in place with her thumbs and shakes it vigorously.

“And now, for the magical ingredient…two packets of onion soup mix!” She shakes the powdered soup mix onto the potatoes and vegetables. “Now, cover and shake once more,” she says, shaking the covered pan vigorously again.

She removes the lid and shows us the contents. The vegetables look to be evenly distributed and well-coated with the soup mix. It looks and smells delicious and it’s not even cooked yet.

“You put in on the grill at about 400 degrees and in half an hour or so, you’ll be in Spud Heaven.”

My stomach rumbles loudly, making everyone laugh.

“Shit, I know how you feel,” Amanda says. “Okay, everyone carry something out to the patio! It’s grillin’ time!”

* * *

It’s a beautiful evening for a cook-out. Amanda and I end up manning the grill, leaving Brenda and Marie to feed the dogs, re-fill the drinks flowing, boil the corn on the cob and provide other logistical support.

In no time, we’re sitting down to eat. The vegetables on the kebabs are a little burnt, but we all agree that’s the way kebabs should be. The meat is tender and delicious, the corn is juicy and the potatoes are so good, eating them is like having a mouth-gasm.

At the outdoor picnic table, we eat in total silence at first. Tiny and Princess watch, curled up on the grass together at a polite distance, drooling and staring but too well-trained to otherwise encroach.

“Oh my God,” Marie groans at one point. “This is the best cook-out EVAR!”

We all pause in our silent gobbling to grin at her, and each other.

“I know, right? Look at us…we’re like…like… animals at a kill!” Brenda says.

“Or…zombies!” Amanda agrees. “It’s like a zombie video game around here right now!”

“Uuunnnggg!” Brenda moans. She rolls her eyes up into her head and shoves a forkful of food into her face, letting some of it drop out of her mouth back onto her plate, eliciting groans and laughter.

“Glad there are no boys around right now,” I say, grinning and shaking my head.

“Having Rob here wouldn’t stop Brenda from doing that,” Amanda says.

“Why should it?” Marie say. “Why can’t we just be ourselves? We don’t have to act like Princesses all the time, yanno.”

“Yeah but we do behave differently when we’re alone than when men are around,” I point out.

“Yeah, I guess. I probably wouldn’t fart in front of, say, Mark, if he were here.” Marie allows.

“Yes you would,” Amanda says. Marie grins and shrugs. “But would you trade this dinner for a movie with him?” Amanda teases.

“Fuck, no!” Marie yells. “He can get his own damn dinner!”

“Hah! That’s not what she meant but no, I wouldn’t wanna share these potatoes with any hungry guys right now. Because, you weren’t kidding Bren!” I say. “They’re the fucking shit!”

“I know, right?” she says. “I mean, it’s crazy! It’s surreal! Who knew onion soup mix was so full of magical goodness?” She takes a deep breath, eyes full of mischief, grease and bits of food stuck to her lips. “Onion SOUP mix?” she screeches to the sky. “Onion CRACK mix, more like!”

“Mmmm! To Onion Crack Mix!” Amanda says, holding her drink up.

“Hear, hear,” we all agree, and we drink up, giggling like idiots.

We eat every last thing in sight, not stopping until we’re all groaning and jokingly blaming each other for our own over-indulgence.

It isn’t until clean up that we find out the true meaning of Brenda’s name for the potato dish.

We end up having a screeching, giggling, mock-serious fight over the crusty, burnt, scrumptious remainders of the cooked potatoes and vegetables in the roasting pan. Armed with a spoon each, all clean-up comes to a halt while we scrape the yummy, cooked-on bits out of the pan, laughing until we’re crying, yelling “I’ll cut you for these potatoes!” and pushing each other’s spoons aside like hockey players scrumming for the puck.

Eventually, the Battle of the Crusty Bits is done, the pan scraped clean, dishes washed, dried and put away. Brenda and Marie leash the dogs to take them for an after dinner-walk.

Amanda and I take fresh drinks back out to the patio and settle down on lounge chairs, chatting and watching as the first stars of the night twinkle in the evening sky.

* * *

We talk about her husband Nick, who’s Brenda’s much-older brother, and their son Bryan, who’s almost two years old now. “I never thought I’d be a wife and mother so young,” she says, a tad wistfully. “But it’s a good life. It’s hard work, but the family…they’re all there for me. For us. We’d be so screwed without ‘em!”

“Yeah. Marriage and motherhood…well, you know that’s all I dreamed of, growing up. I never really wanted a career.”

“I remember. When we were kids, I talked about being an English professor. Brenda talked about breeding dogs and working with animals. Marie was always gonna be a race-car driver. But you…you always talked about what you were gonna name your kids. Hah! Life sure is weird.”

“Sure is. It’s like you and I traded the lives we wanted or something.”

Amanda stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back in her lounge chair. “I never thought I’d end up working in construction, that’s for sure. Nick says I can stay home and just raise Bryan, if I want. And it’s almost time to think about giving him a sibling. But I…I dunno. I find that I like being busy, I like being in the thick of things, sometimes.” She smiles and takes another sip of her drink. “Speaking of which, is work still insane for you at Delcroft? Last time we talked, it sounded awful. You were saying you’re not sure if you wanted to stick it out.”

“Yes,” I say, leaning back. Looking up, I spy a satellite crossing the purple twilight sky, so far up it’s barely visible. “It’s still crazy. Stressful. But…I’m almost done my probation period now. And since the last week or so, it’s been getting easier. Like, things are clicking into place now.”

“Maybe you’re finally getting used to it.”

“I think so. I knew it’d take time, but I…didn’t think it’d be this hard. I didn’t think the company would be so fucked up!”

What I really want to do is tell her about my relationship with Blake! I wish I could just break down and tell her––tell all of them, my closest friends––what’s been going on. But I think it’s best to wait. Just in case things don’t….well, either way, just in case.

Besides, I know as soon as I mention his Angel, they’d tell me to ditch him. Walk away from him before it’s too late. Before he hurts me. They’re my friends and they wouldn’t want me to suffer.

Problem is, I’m not ready to walk away.

“I’ve heard some stuff about Delcroft,” she’s saying. “Nick says they’re shady as hell.”

“Shady? You mean, incompetent? It’s family-owned. Blake…my boss…says there are too many chiefs, so to speak.”

I can’t talk about our relationship yet, but I can tell her about how they plan to shaft me and Blake. So I do.

“Wow, that’s shitty, Jenny! I wish I could say I’m surprised. But Nick says these people are corrupt to the core. Not just incompetent. Corrupt. I mean, obviously, what with that whole kickback thing going on.”

“Kickback thing? What kickbacks? For contracts?”

“Maybe that too, I dunno. But I’m talking about safety equipment. You must know about that?”

I shake my head.

“What? You haven’t heard? Someone on the inside is taking money to distribute substandard equipment. Counterfeits. Nick thinks it all originates with Asian gangsters. Mafia.”

“Mafia? What the hell?”

“The version I heard is this: They produce substandard versions of safety equipment for a fraction of the cost of American-made goods. They introduce these goods to the Western markets by hook or by crook. A massive company like Delcroft saves millions, plus…someone gets a big chunk of change for looking the other way. Tax-free change.”

“I didn’t know that. Blake mentioned that there are bad products on site sometimes. The other day he had to go around on one of our sites, taking sub-par hooks back from new workers. But…he seemed to think it was just an error. He didn’t mention anything about kickbacks.”

“Strange. I know he knows about it, because he was at our shop talking to Nick about it. Week before last.”

“He was? You sure?”

Why didn’t he mention any of this to me?

“Yes,” she laughs. “Big, hunky guy. Deep voice. Eyes that look right through you. Hottie!” She smiles. “They were in Nick’s office for a long time. Nick told me about it when Blake left.”

“Really now? That’s very interesting. But…I don’t see how anyone could get away with kickbacks or counterfeit hardware. All accidents are investigated by OSHA. There are serious consequences for poor practices or shitty equipment. Huge fines, or even jail time if the company can’t show they did their due diligence.”

“Oh, everyone know the rules. And the consequences. They just don’t care. Sometimes, there’s too much money involved. Listen, Nick found some unrated stuff on one of our sites, too. But we do care. We’re very concerned about it.”

“I feel like everyone should be concerned about it! I mean, it’s a no-brainer!”

“Yeah, that’s what you’d think. But money makes people psychotic sometimes, Jen. They take risks and do stupid things because…money. But Bennett Contracting isn’t Delcroft. We’re small potatoes. One fine could sink us. Litigation could sink us.”

She turns to face me, tucking her her feet under her. “Nick’s thinking of hiring a dedicated safety staff. He has too much to do as it is, and a lot of that work has been falling to the foremen. But we need help. We cannot afford any accidents.”

“Shit, Amanda. I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Oh, it’s a huge deal. For Delcroft, though, it’s just a cost of doing business. A tax-write off. For us, or any smaller contractor, an accident or a lawsuit could be the end.

She looks at me speculatively. “Say…I wonder if…hmmm.”

“What?”

“Well, I’d have to talk to Nick but I wonder if we could hire you. As a safety officer. Maybe, you and Blake, both. We might not be able to pay what Delcroft is paying, but…”

“I dunno, ‘Manda. We’d have to give that a lot of thought. You know what they say about working for friends.”

She nods. “Yeah, but…there are only so many qualified people in Maple Mills who could do the job. We’d have to headhunt someone anyway. Maybe we could work something out.”

I reach over and squeeze her hand. “It’s a lovely idea, but…yeah. We’d have to really give that some thought.”

“Of course. But, at least, we do care about our workers. We know them all, know their families. Delcroft has never had a good rep. They’re the biggest construction employer in the region but everyone who works for them seems to hate working there.” We share an uneasy look. “There’s bad juju going on there, Jen,” she says.

“No shit,” I say. “I just can’t understand why on Blake wouldn’t tell me about these counterfeits himself.”

She twirls her hair, thinking. “I dunno. It’s a touchy thing, maybe he doesn’t want to slander them unless he’s sure. Maybe, he’s trying to protect you.” She looks at me a little guiltily now. “And, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Nick seems to think that there could be an element of danger involved.

“Oh, come on, Amanda! That’s pretty melodramatic, isn’t it?” But another spear of unease slices through me. “I wonder if this is why Blake was so insistent on me quitting Delcroft with him.”

“Maybe. I dunno, Jenny. All I can says is, Nick’s very worried about it. Honestly, I assumed you already knew.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me. You think Nick will mind that you did?”

“I doubt it. I hope not. Too late now, anyway.”

“Okay. You mind if I talk to Blake about this? I want to know what the hell is going on, and why he hasn’t told me himself.”

“Sure. Let me know how that goes.”

Just then, the patio door slides open and Marie, Brenda and the two dogs come out, back from their walk.

Tiny and Princess trot over, panting, ears back, to collect some loving from Amanda and me, while Brenda brings an armload of firewood to the fire pit.

We help her, piling up enough logs for a nice fire. We pull chairs up, and then watch as Marie piles kindling on top of crumpled newspapers, and then stacks the dry logs on top of that.

She kneels and uses a grill lighter on the newspaper. We all sit back and watch as the fire catches, and then grows, leaping up the carefully stacked logs to a respectable campfire size.

Brenda goes inside to put coffee on and the four of us have coffee and dessert by the fire, laughing, talking and catching up, bathed in its warm and inviting light.

But worry has settled back in my chest and my mind is miles away.