Chapter 17

Jacob

AFTER BIDDING a reluctant goodbye to Sierra, I linked up with Tom and some of our crew. Today, while some people got to lounge around the mansion, I was gonna be visiting the future construction site for the retirement village. Ugh. It promised to be sticky, and generally dismal. Although, if we did get the job, which was looking increasingly likely, I’d be on that site for ages. In other words, getting annoyed about it now probably wasn’t a good long-term strategy. Best to make my peace.

But, in case my hand wasn’t already showing, I was only frustrated because I wanted to spend every minute of the weekend at Sierra’s side. Now that we’d “reconnected” — that’s my kosher word for what happened — it felt like there was so much to explore. Who had we become in the absence of one another? Who was Sierra now, when she wasn’t busy rightfully hating my guts? I’d seen a glimpse last night, but I wanted to take in the whole picture. After all, at the start of this weekend, I hadn’t even known where she worked. What else didn’t I know about her? Two years in your twenties is a miniature lifetime.

This began to pluck at the more painful question that had lodged itself in my brain. We had reconnected sexually, that was certain. But romantically… well, it’s one thing to have mind-blowing sex with someone, and it’s another thing to build a life with them. I was beginning to sense, much to my confusion, that I wanted the latter from Sierra. And if she was only in this for the physical release — oh, the thought made my heart ache. I mean, I’d happily continue to fuck her senseless, if that’s what she requested, but I’d always yearn for something beyond the physical.

My mind swam with questions, but there was no time to pick each one apart. I had a job to do. Besides, a construction site isn’t exactly a brilliant place to get confused and depressed. The heat alone can make your already jumbled mind just spin out completely.

So, back to the matter at hand, the one of framing. Because framing is, at its core, a simple, easy task. Wood, studs, numbers. All problems could be solved with a pencil and paper, or some kind of heavy tool. Issues of the heart have, in my life, proved considerably trickier.

Our framing crew got ahold of one of Charles’ vans and drove out to the site. As we chatted about our favorite recent reads — what? Construction workers don’t just talk about tits all day — we passed by suburb after suburb, and I wondered just how far out Charles’ village was to be. Was it purposefully isolated to make sure the old people didn’t wander into an unmonitored town? Was he trying to make it hard for everybody’s relatives to visit and overrun the space with nosy children and noisy grandchildren?

At last, we reached Charles’ plot of land, and I understood that all my speculation had been stupid. He was this far out of town because no developed city had this much empty space.

You know how I thought the mansion was sizable? Well, go ahead and times that by about ten. The plot was big enough to build an entire town. Which is, now that I say it, I guess the point. The retirement village would have everything — a movie theater, a mall, gyms, everything a normal town had. Plus, it would all be accessible. Of course I’d run the numbers on individuals houses, and had planned for everything before me, but now that I was faced with it, the sheer size was daunting.

Looking at the plot, I gulped down nerves. I’m a hard worker, and it wasn’t like me to fear an undertaking, but this… this was greater in scope than anything I’d tackled before. Was I equipped to handle this project? Moreover, was I equipped to handle this project in eight months?

I shook my head, trying to shake out thoughts of self-doubt as we disembarked from the van and strode onto the multi-acre tract. A wire fence surrounded the land holding, but little else in the way of protection. After all, it’s not like you can do much to protect air and earth. We’d have to pick up some empty beer bottles and a few used needles, I reckoned, but there wasn’t much else to vandalize, unless some vengeful neighbor had decided to literally torch the earth.

Tom turned to our team, and doled out quick instructions. “Bill, Darren, check out the perimeter. Noel, test the soil, the rise, so on and so forth. We gotta finalize all our measurements before the big pitch, gentlemen.” He turned to me. “Jacob, walk with me.”

The men nodded, and split up. I fell in line with Tom’s step as we strode onto the property. I sniffed at the air, bent down to feel the ground between my fingers. Like I said, I really am a paper and pencil kinda guy, but sometimes I feel like I gotta touch the earth and ask her what she wants, try to uncover whatever little delicious secrets she’s hiding. The thought brought Sierra to mind, so I quickly banished it and tuned into Tom’s patter.

He was chatting about the pitch tomorrow, as per expected. I tuned back out, and to avoid returning to perilous thoughts of Sierra, I began to do scratchy calculations in my head, thinking about wood options, landscaping — you don’t wanna hear about this, do you? I’ll skip it.

As we were walking through a rockier section of terrain, Tom stopped suddenly, turning to me with an inscrutable expression and kicking up some loose pebbles in the process.

“Jacob,” he began, then broke off, as if fumbling for words.

I drew to a halt, tucking my hands in my pockets and trying to make heads or tails of his tone. Tom rarely, if ever, seemed at a loss for what to say — he was a good time guy, someone who could always make conversation, however light and fluffy. For him to be speechless… let’s just say it wasn’t a great sign.

“What’s up?” I asked with intentional mildness, hoping to diffuse the strange expression darkening his face. “You worried about the rain they’re predicting for the upcoming season? ‘Cuz I am too, and I’ve already factored it into our timeline—”

“It’s nothing like that,” he interrupted, cutting me off with the shake of his head. “I just wanted to, to give you a heads up, I guess.”

One of my eyebrows shot up — the right one, he’s a dodgy devil. “Uh, about what?”

“Company code of conduct,” he replied, his eyes shifting to the uneven ground, as though afraid to meet my gaze. “Wanted to remind you that it explicitly prohibits fraternizing with coworkers.”

Uh.

Shit.

My thoughts, which I had been tamping back with framing questions, burst forth, each demanding to be heard.

Logically, I had known about the code. Of course I had. It’s not like it was an unusual, or even unreasonable, rule. Putting such a blanket clause in place reduced distraction, helped people focus on work when they were at work. Even at breakfast that morning, I hadn’t communicated with my coworkers about the upcoming project, the one we’d all been flown out for, because I was too busy playing with Sierra’s thigh.

It was unreasonable, but it was unfortunate. And even worse to be hearing it out of Tom’s mouth. All there was to do was play dumb.

“Yeah, Tom,” I replied, struggling to keep my tone calm and casual. “I know. Why do you mention it?”

“Come on, kid, don’t play dumb.”

“How so?”

“You’re gonna make me say it?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so, because I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Tom sighed with exasperation, and I could tell I was pushing his buttons. “All right, Jacob, here’s the deal. We’re buddies, you and I. Ain’t that right?”

I nodded. “Sure is.”

“So now I’m not talking to you as your boss, but as your friend. I know something’s up with you and Sierra. And really, in fairness, it’s my fault. Well, Joe’s and my’s fault. We asked you to play a couple for the weekend to help us sell a product. And that wasn’t right, wasn’t ethical. But I got a pretty good sense for these things, and I know you two aren’t just acting anymore.”

He paused, waiting for me to say something. Instead, I looked away, up to the north, where trees lined the border of the property, thin poplars with light wood and leafy branches.

Tom dropped the silent game, and continued, “Kid, this kind of thing, this, uh, workplace fraternizing… it doesn’t end well. Either you get distracted, become less productive, and get in trouble, or it blows up and Pillers takes the hit. Besides, I know you’re stationed out of different offices, so you’d have to do long distances, and take it from an old man, that don’t end well.”

There was nothing to do but respond. “Tom—”

He held up his hands. “No, no, don’t say anything that’s gonna incriminate yourself. I’m just asking you, as a friend, if there’s something going on between you… snuff it out. You’re not in trouble now, of course, but — man, I hate to be like this — but if you can’t make a clean break… we’ll be forced to take more extreme measures. Joe and me.”

“Like what?” I had to ask, needed to know.

“Like firing you, Jacob. You’d have knowingly violated the code of conduct, and a boss’ direct orders. Even though I like you, consider you a good buddy, we’d have to do it to cover our own asses from liability. You feel me?”

The question hung in the thick Floridian air. Flies buzzed around us, and I slapped a mosquito that attempted to puncture my neck.

I had to stick with my story. “Tom, there’s nothing between Sierra and me, and there isn’t gonna be. Is that a good enough answer?”

His face fell, as though disappointment clung to his forehead and dragged it down into a series of increasingly intricate wrinkles.

Tom sighed, and replied, “Whatever you say, Jacob. I hope it’s the truth.”

“It is.”

“Well… okay then. Let’s finish touring this site.”

As we picked up our walk once more, my heart thudded wildly in my chest. I’d almost been found out. Or, technically, I had been found out, it was just that Tom had no way of confirming his completely accurate suspicions.

But though I’d evaded Tom’s hammer, at least for the time being… he had made some good points. Not ‘good,’ per se, but painfully accurate. I guess I’d been so busy trying to convince Sierra that I wasn’t a scoundrel that I hadn’t stopped to think what would happen if she did forgive me.

Because in what world could we really be together? We both needed these jobs, I knew that. Sierra had grown up poor and would never leave financial stability just to follow love — she was romantic, but not stupid. And I was in a similar bind — I needed Pillers, and I specifically needed this job, to keep Got Wood afloat. Sure, I could find another job if things went belly up, but I was also supporting my dad.

And if we didn’t leave Pillers, we couldn’t be together — this, assuming that she even wanted to be together in a long-term way. I think she did, but who am I to say? Neither of us would or could exit the company, so this was a non-starter. Our future potential relationship was going to be over before it’d even started. That was a stinging blow.

Tom had also pointed out that we lived in different towns. It wasn’t a crazy long distance, I guess, but I’ll be honest with ya — I’m fixin’ to settle down. It’s about that time in a man’s life where you get to thinking about having some little ones to raise right, a house you built with your own two hands, and a partner in all the merriment and madness. And that meant being in the same town, in the same house, in the same bed.

So, yeah. I’d dodged and parried Tom’s verbal inquisition. But now he’d opened up my mind and allowed a sea of unwelcome questions to tumble in. My lies were growing as my answers were disappearing.