Chapter 2
Julian made his way to the door and knocked. Even that felt as if it was going to fall apart. "Hold on, girl," he said quietly then softly petted the wood where he had knocked moments ago. When no one answered, he checked the doorknob. Out-of-towner. No South Florida resident would leave their place unlocked regardless of how much work was needed. He slowly opened the door.
"Hello? Mr. Boner?" He smiled. Gosh, this was never going to get old.
"It's Doner." He heard an aggravated man's voice from one of the rooms on the right.
"Oh, sorry, the ad read Boner." He just couldn't resist throwing that in there one more time.
The irritated man walked out into the hallway, stopped, and crossed his arms. "It's Doner. D-O-N-E-R. Doner."
He could spell it any way he wanted, a-s-s-h-o-l-e was the only thing that ran through Julian's mind at that moment.
"Are you here for the job or what?" Doner asked. He sounded tired and a bit past pissed. His dark brown hair was disheveled as if he'd been running his fingers through it repeatedly. He looked frustrated about something or maybe the heat was driving him to the brink of madness. His jeans were broken in and slightly worn at the knees, his shirt a traditional white tee. Nothing fancy. He seemed like he was trying to fit in, but there was something there that just didn't match with the overall package. His hair and clothing said casual, but the underlying look screamed something completely different. Something more… polished.
Julian could easily imagine this guy in a suit and tie at the head of a table or behind a podium in front of a group of people, like a businessman or leader of some sort. He had that air about him. But something was off. He looked just as tired as he sounded. His shoulders were slightly hunched over and it seemed as if it took effort to stand up straight. When he did, he was tall, almost reaching Julian's six-foot-three stature.
"Well, if you're done with your spelling bee competition, yes, I'm here for the job," Julian said as he walked past Doner into the building.
"Do you insult all your potential employers?"
"Do you insult all your potential employees?"
They stared each other down as if it were a schoolyard brawl. Julian felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He'd stand his ground even if those were the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. He refused to be the first to flinch.
"Touché," Doner muttered.
Julian half smiled. That was the closest he imagined this guy would come to an apology. He extended his hand. "I'm Julian Capeletti."
Mr. Superior followed suit. "Matthew Doner, call me Matt." After a firm handshake, Matt directed him to the room where he had set up a semioffice. "Capeletti, is that Italian?"
"The name is Italian, yeah, but I'm a mix of Italian, Brazilian, and a hint of German. But you're not supposed to ask that in a job interview, you know," he said with a challenging smile.
Matt rolled his eyes. "I wasn't asking because I was going to use it as a determinant whether to hire you or not, I was just curious. It's not that common a name."
"I'm a mutt."
"That's uhm…" Matt appeared lost for words. "Okay," he finally said.
"It's the truth." Maybe this guy wasn't used to someone being so blunt. Julian shrugged. "So let's talk about the job."
Matt sighed and sat back in his chair, pointing to the seat opposite his desk in a clear suggestion for Julian to sit. "This is my place and I want to fix it up."
"Needs a lot of work," Julian commented as he sat.
"Is that supposed to be a newsflash or something? Tell me something I don't know. Most people who have walked in here have walked right back out. Hell, some even ran out before I had a chance to say a word. I know it's a lot of work. I just want someone to take care of it. I don't know squat about construction and I need someone who does."
"The ad said 'handyman', was that an error too? Sounds like you need a contractor."
Matt seemed to have perfected the body sigh. "Were you not listening? I said I didn't know anything about construction. Handyman, contractor, whatever, I need someone who can fix this," he said as he moved his arms around. "Do you want the job or not?"
"How much does it pay?"
"Eight hundred a week plus materials. Just one guy, I don't want a crew of people here who will point the finger elsewhere. I only want to deal with one person."
Julian started working the numbers. Obviously, this was cheap labor for the kind of work that needed to be done. He had all the certifications because of his contractor licensing requirements, but this was insanely low pay and very demanding work for one person. Even if he was stubborn enough to believe he could do it all.
"Do you have a deadline for the repairs?"
"One year," Matt said without hesitation.
One year? Julian looked around and assessed the walls, floor, and ceiling. The interior was just as bad as the outside. One year was a short period of time and barely reasonable. He didn't know how much work she would actually need until he got inside the walls. He didn't care. He wanted to be the one doing it and knew better than to appear too eager.
"That might be cutting it a bit close considering you want a one-man show. I would need to stay here as part of the agreement so I can work however many hours I need to get the job done."
Matt didn't seem thrown by the idea. He gestured around him with a wave of his hand. "There are plenty of rooms if that's what you'd like to do. This one is my office and I have another room I've set aside where I'll be sleeping. You can have any other room you'd like while doing the repairs."
"You do realize that by you staying here, you potentially delay the renovations."
"It's part of the arrangement. If I need to move to a different room then I will, but I'm staying here. I'll also be helping with the manual labor where I can."
Julian raised an eyebrow and bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the smile. He couldn't imagine Mr. Sophisticated lifting a hammer or doing any heavy lifting for that matter. But the job was both tempting and needed.
"Deal."
"I'm going to need you to fill out this paperwork," Matt said as he handed over some basic waivers, releases, and tax forms. At least his new boss had done some research into the correct way to go about this.
Julian took the forms and started to fill them out. Two birds with one stone. He'd pay David the two months he owed him for past rent and move here to save on expenses. He could have just left, but that wasn't fair to David. He'd allowed him to stay rent-free for two months and Julian owed him.
"I need two weeks advance to start," he said as he handed the completed forms back to Matt.
"I'm not an ATM," Matt snapped as he gathered the papers. "I'll pay you at the end of the week."
Julian knew he was pushing his luck but was well-aware of what he was capable of with this renovation. Matt may not know it but he was hiring someone with tons of know-how even if the pay didn't show it. Also, his new boss had already said no one else had been interested.
"Here are my credentials," he said as he put the folder with the certifications on the desk. "I've got the licenses and other requirements needed to do the repairs legally and the experience to get the job done. I'm a man of my word. I'm telling you I will fix her up just as good as a crew of guys can…but cheaper. Plus, I'm willing to work however many hours are needed to get it done to meet your deadline. But I need that advance. I have to wrap up a few things if I'm going to jump into this on a 24/7 basis."
He could tell Matt was sizing him up. His new employer quickly glanced at his wrist cuff before making eye contact again. Julian clasped both hands behind his back, not willing to answer the questions looking back at him in that gaze.
"Fine." Matt opened the drawer to his left to retrieve a stack of bills. He began to count out fifties. When finished, he handed all thirty-two to Julian.
Julian took the money and stared at the bills in his hand. The full sixteen hundred he'd requested in crisp fifty-dollar bills stared back at him. Now it was his turn to size Matt up.
"One question," Julian said.
Matt sighed. "Yes, this money is legal. Was that your question?"
Finding legit work was so damn difficult. That was all Julian cared about, linked to a promise he'd made to his mother as a child to stay out of trouble. Julian picked his battles. Quite frankly, most of the people he'd run into in his life had made some sort of silly, inappropriate, or downright stupid decision at one time or another. He was no exception. He was just never crazy enough to walk into a situation knowing there was something illegal at inception. The rational, over-analytical part of his mind tried to ignore how Matt had classified this money when responding. Crap.
There was something about this Matt guy that didn't put Julian on full alert. He looked sincere. As long as Julian could put in an honest day's work and get paid, legally, what was promised, he was fine with the deal.
"Yup. All I needed to know." He folded the money and stuffed it into his back pocket as he rose from his seat. "I'll get my stuff and be back in a couple of hours. One more question."
Mr. In-charge was back with the body sighs. "What?" he asked on an exhale.
Oh, and look at that, eye rolls as well.
"Is there a place I can park my truck? I parked down the street and I'd prefer to be closer."
Obviously caught off guard by the question, Matt straightened. "Oh, yeah, we've got a few spots in the back. You can come in through the alley one street up."
"Cool, thanks," Julian said with a subtle nod. "I'll be back in a bit." He turned to leave.
"What's the M for?" Matt's question stopped him.
"I'm sorry?" Julian turned to see Matt flipping through the completed forms.
"The M. Your middle initial?" Matt looked genuinely curious as he glanced up from the clipboard.
"It's for my middle name," Julian responded then turned again to leave.
"Obviously."
"It's not relevant to the job."
"I want to know."
Julian couldn't resist a smile. He could imagine Mr. Arrogant Matt Doner pitching a temper tantrum, stomping around and yelling. It took every ounce of energy he had to not burst out laughing. He shook his head, hoping to dispel the visual. "See you in a few hours."
"It's not for Matt, is it?"
"Thankfully, no, 'cause that would just be too weird." He had to leave before the temper tantrum visual returned. The whiny version in his head was stomping and screaming like a bratty child. "See you in a few." He hurried to the door.
He waved goodbye as he walked out.
"Is it Max?"
He couldn't stifle the bubbling laughter any longer once he was outside.