I have had the privilege of working with Gaius Petronius as an editor since chapter 6. He has a very sharp eye, yet sometime I miss his corrections of my typos. I am extremely grateful to him for not only correcting, but teaching this feral writer, all the while reminding me to be true to myself.
And because some of you have asked, this story is about half way done.
*****
Don and Lenny were both standing on the sidewalk at the jobsite when I got there at 8:20 a.m. There was a refrigerator on a dolly and they were obviously waiting for me to help get it upstairs. Don started yelling as soon as he saw me, "What the hell? Didn't I just tell you not to be late and the very next day you're late! What the fuck? Was I talkin' outta' the side of my neck or somethin'? Guys are gonna' be lookin' at you and you're comin' in late like this?" Don stopped to wipe his sweaty brow with a bandana. It was already hot and humid. "What if I was payin' guys standin' around waitin' on you! We can't have this, Ray! This is bullshit!"
"I'm sorry, Don. It won't happen again," I answered calmly.
"What?" Don looked at me totally confused, so I went on, "Sorry I let you down."
Don continued to stare at me in bewilderment, and then he started yelling again, "Oh, so I'm the bad guy? You're the one who's fuckin' late and I'm made out to be the asshole?"
"No, not at all. I was totally in the wrong," I again answered calmly, hoping this conversation would be over soon so I could get to work.
Don shook his head and told me just to help get the fridge up the stairs. The three of us manhandled it up two flights of stairs and by the time we got it up and into the tiny kitchen, we were all sweating. Don told me to hook the water line to the ice maker and I heard him and Lenny mumbling in the other room. It wasn't just the humidity causing me to sweat.
When I finished the fridge, I went hunting for Don to find out what he wanted me to do next. He was standing next to the truck talking on the phone and held up a finger signaling me to wait a minute. When he hung up he looked me up and down and said, "Look, Ray, you're a nice kid. That's the problem. Too nice. Next week we're gonna' have a few new guys startin' up and you can't act like that."
"I won't be late again. I'm sorry, Don."
"Dammit, Ray, don't you get it? That's exactly what I'm talkin' about right there. Quit bein' so god damned polite or the guys are gonna' eat you up. This is a construction site! You're already too young and too green to be in charge. They hear you talkin' like that and they're gonna' call you a kiss ass or a pussy and they're gonna' take advantage of you. Next time I bust your balls, I want you to stand up to me. I'm gonna' give you shit for bein' late cuz that's my job, but I know you ain't usually late! So gimme' shit right back! Don't you get it? A man's gotta' right to rant and rave, but if I really have a problem with you we'll be havin' a private conversation."
"So you want me to argue with you?" I asked, totally confused. That was the kind of thing that would get me backhanded by my dad. I spent my whole life learning how to de-fuse an angry man and now I was being told to do the opposite.
"Hell yeah! I mean, don't be late again, but if you are, stand up to me. Tell me you ain't usually late, give me hell right back. It's just what guys do. Now if you're late all the time, we're gonna' have a problem, but that's different."
"Okay, Don, I'll try."
"No, Ray. Don't try. Do. Save that sweet talk for your girlfriend."
I almost said, "Yes sir," out of habit and caught myself just in time. "Alright then, can I get back to work?"
"Yeah, you're on paint duty today, and remember -"
I cut him off, "This ain't the gawd damned Tawj Mahawl," I said, with my best New York accent.
* * * * *
I was really glad to be painting because I could do it alone, see my progress, and think. There was so much on my mind that my thoughts were bumping into each other. Frustration, anxiety, and bliss, were all fighting for dominance. I tried to reminisce about my night and even my morning with Alicia. She looked so sexy sitting on her kitchen counter in her tank top and panties. Damn, she looked good in the morning! And then there was the matter of her telling me she overeats and throws up. In a way, it made me feel a lot closer to her, like she wasn't perfect - she was vulnerable - but I worried that she'd keep doing it. Then there was being late and getting bitched out and being told to man up. I thought about that a lot. I didn't really know if I wanted to be in charge of other guys. Maybe I'd rather just paint with my headphones on. Then I thought about Alicia some more, about how sweet and sexy she is and how I can't wait to see her again. Then I worried about the new guys not respecting me.
I decided to listen to some music that she had put on my phone. Most of it was stuff I picked out, some R & B, and I got in the groove of painting. Then one of those hillbilly songs Alicia gave me came on and I practiced restraint by not pressing "next." The music was really fast and I noticed I picked up the pace of my painting, a lot actually. The music reminded me of a movie on fast forward and I was really moving without that slow bass beat I was used to. I'd have to tell Alicia I found her music useful. I wanted to call her, but knew she was at work by now and I'm not supposed to be on the phone either.
Lenny came back to the apartment carrying a new sink for the bathroom and said, "Good, you're almost done. We can get this sink in today and be done here. So how come you was late? You party too hard last night?"
"Naw, man, that's not it. I kinda' got into something with my girlfriend this morning."
"Well, the way you've been grinnin', you must have had some good make-up sex."
I didn't answer and tried to stop grinning. Lenny shook his head and he held the sink in place while I hooked it up. I went back to painting and was all done by four and the guys were already gone to the new jobsite. I called Don and told him I finished and he said to lock up the place and where to meet him tomorrow. Finally, I could talk to Alicia.
I sat outside on the building's stoop and texted her, "Hey Dream-Girl, can you talk?"