Chapter 3

Scott

It was Wednesday night and my ass was planted where it usually was: at McHarden’s Pub, at the bar, next to my best friend, Landon. We had known each other since we were five years old and had a lot in common. We had gone to the same daycare, our fathers had worked together on the same crew, we both grew up poor as dirt, and when we were around the same age, both of our fathers died, his from cancer, mine from an accident on the site. We had been through the thick of it together and always stayed friends.

“The bar is busier than usual,” Landon said, looking around.

“It’s all the extra hours on this project’s payroll,” I replied. “The guys are living the good life with so many extra hours.”

“Oh, yeah,” Landon said. “That’s right. You’re on the crew for that new neighborhood going up, right?”

“Yep,” I said, sipping my beer. “Building houses we will never be able to afford to live in.”

“That’s the way, man,” he said and chuckled. “The rich enjoying the luxuries the poor can provide.”

“I hear ya,” I said, shaking my head. “So, what’s up with you?”

“Not much,” he said. “I have these three chicks I have been seeing simultaneously. None of them know about the others yet, and I know it’s bad karma, but I can’t get any of them off my mind. The redhead, she’s a fiery one, always bustin’ my balls, both in good ways and bad ones. The blonde is just hotter than hell, and the brunette—man, she has me hooked.”

I tried to pay attention to him, but Cassie kept rolling around in my mind. The guys had been right. She was hotter than hell with her petite little body covered in perfect curves, those green eyes, and that beautiful brown hair. She smelled good too. She had messed up my brain when she’d walked past me earlier that week. She was spicy, not the demure little lady I had expected to be the boss’s daughter. It was obvious she knew who she was working with, and she didn’t take shit from anyone, not even the supervisors who all were trying to act like her protector.

I was not the kind of guy that wasted my time thinking about women. I barely paid them any mind, so having one stuck in my brain was something I was not familiar with. This girl, though, there was something about her, something that stuck out to me that I couldn’t shake. I had never had a girl on my mind like this before, but she was there, and she was torturing me every time I turned around. Don’t get me wrong. I had my romps in the hay, but the girls I was used to were roughneck girls looking for a husband who spat the same kind of crap the guys did, only in a sweeter way and with a smile. None of them had any ambition except to be the next in line as a construction wife, bearing the kids and taking care of the family.

I could tell Cassie was different from the first moment I met her, but not different like I had thought she would be. Instead of being a fragile, scared rich girl, she had a confidence about her that was sexy. She reminded me of my mother in some ways: secure in who she was, realistic in her expectations of everything around her. She knew she was walking into the fire being the boss’s daughter, but she wasn’t taking any shit. I had seen her be approached by Carl at the porta-potty on Monday. She hadn’t taken any shit from him, and in fact, she gave it back to him right away, letting him know exactly where he stood. I thought it was hilarious since Carl deserved that and way worse.

“Hey,” Landon said, snapping his fingers in front of me. “You still in there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Redhead, super vicious, three girls, don’t know what to do. I don’t understand why you do that to yourself.”

“You okay, man?” Landon said. “Your mind is off in la-la land, and you seem more bitter about women than you usually are. I have always had more than one chick at a time. I don’t know why this surprises you.”

“And you always get bit in the ass over it.” I chuckled, drinking my beer. “Every single time you end up with a black eye and a new member of the Landon-hater club.”

“It’s fun, man,” he said. “And I get more sex than I can handle at once.”

I laughed. “You are hopeless.”

He went on about the girls, telling me every intimate detail he could think of. I tried to pay attention to him. I knew he was just talking, but I found his conversation to be mind-numbing almost. I felt like we had the same conversation every time we hung out, only about different girls and fresh drama. I wanted to have discussions about the future, about the news, about anything other than the girls Landon was banging. But that had never been his specialty. He wasn’t Carl, but he was still rough around the edges like his father had been. He only knew one thing to talk about, so he went with it, and there I was just trying to get through it.

I had never been the guy that focused on going from girl to girl. Hell, I rarely had one girl at one time, much less had them stacked up like Landon did. I had bigger things on my mind, like continuing to bust my ass and make as much money as I could. I wanted something different for myself and for my future kids. I didn’t want to produce the next generation of construction workers. That had been my family, like the rest in town, just repeating the cycle over and over. I wanted to do something my family had never done before, break out and own something, have something I could call my own instead of slaving away for the man, making the rich richer.

“So, how’s work?” Landon said, finally changing the subject.

“Oh, same old, same old,” I said. “Due dates coming and going, Carl and the gang being complete assholes all the time, and the temperature rising steadily, making me dread the heat of the summer when we will be putting the roofs on the houses. I grind through it though. Nothing really exciting.”

“A buddy of mine told me he started at your company,” he said. “Said he’s on the same job you are. His name is Carter. He is apparently doing the pick-up jobs on site right now, being used wherever is needed.”

“We need a lot of those guys, but I don’t see them often since I work in structural. We tend not to take on the newbies,” I said. “There is too much importance placed on our part of the job for something to get screwed up. You put a board in the wrong place and the whole thing can tumble down on you and whoever is underneath it.”

“Yeah,” Landon said, looking down at his beer. “That’s how your old man died, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said, taking a sip. “Some new kid right out of training put a support beam in the wrong place. My pops climbed up to add the next layer and down the whole thing went, burying him under all the lumber. Didn’t kill him right away, and we thought he was going to make it, but he had internal bleeding or some shit like that.”

“Whew,” Landon said, shaking his head. “That’s the kind of shit that will make you want to work at the grocery store.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Except the grocery store doesn’t pay like construction does. When the hours are good, the paychecks are really good.”

“But when the hours are bad, you find a line out the door at the food stamp building,” Landon replied, still shaking his head. “It’s like this crazy cycle and you hope you are the generation that misses the weak hours.”

“It’s a cycle I don’t want my kids to go through. I know that for damn sure,” I said, finishing my beer and ordering another.

“Yeah.” Landon scoffed. “So, you still driving for Uber in your spare time? I haven’t seen you out there much, and obviously you are here with me tonight.”

“It’s a touch-and-go business,” I said. “I learned that not every night will put you in the green between the gas and the fees you pay the company. Right now I am sticking to Thursdays and Saturdays because I can stay close to the area and get a bunch of fares on those nights. They’re really the only nights right now that are worth it. Friday is too wishy-washy for me, and I don’t want to drive out to the city. It takes too much gas, and the prices are off the charts out there.”

“But there has to be a bunch of work,” Landon said.

“If you’re in the right spot at the right time,” I said. “And driving out of the city to gas up and then going back is a pain and a money waster.”

“So I’m assuming you are still chasing down that dream of owning your own place,” Landon said. “A hardware shop out here, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “The only one that’s ever been out here is that chain one, and everyone complains about the customer service. I figure if I can start my own, people will come to me. We support each other out here, you know? Give the little guy a chance.”

“You think you can compete with the prices?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But one thing I learned growing up with these roughnecks is they will pay a little extra to feel comfortable where they shop,” I said. “They also take a lot of pride in homegrown and would gladly put their money with a boy from the town than some corporate schmuck that has never even been to the town before.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely true,” he said. “I don’t know though. It seems like such a risk to take. I’m happy putting my money in the bank, buying some brews, taking out some girls, and one day buying one of those houses on Emery that all got renovated. Take my kid to baseball down the street, you know?”

“I know.” I smiled. “But this is my dream, and I am hell-bent on making it happen. What’s the worst that could come out of it? I fail and go back to construction? Wouldn’t be the first time that happened in this town and wouldn’t be the last either. I just want more for my kids than the life I had.”

“I feel you, brother,” he said, lifting his beer. “And I’m behind you. I’ll definitely get my tools and such from your shop.”

“Thanks, man.”

Landon always talked like he was in full support of my dreams, but deep down, I knew he thought I was full of it. We heard lots of guys talking about breaking the cycle, but they always ended up retired from the union, collecting a pension, and wasting away on their run-down porches, watching their kids follow in their footsteps. There was nothing wrong with labor jobs. Hell, we needed them to make the world go around. But I wasn’t the guy who could imagine spending the rest of my life working one.