2
With a grunt of effort, Eric hoisted the plywood into place and grabbed for his nail gun. With a satisfyingthunk, the nails slammed into the wood, anchoring it firmly to the framework of wooden beams that were already in place, showing the skeleton of where the walls of the building would be.
Every time, it struck Eric as faintly miraculous that he was going to create a whole new building, a house, where people would live, where there had once been nothing but scrub brush and tall grass. He had done that, he and his team, and someday soon, a family would live and work and grow in these walls which he was putting up with his own hands.
His parents would never understand. His father, who thought that the only appropriate career choice was to go to college and get a degree of some sort, he wouldn’t really be happy unless Eric followed his path right to law school. And his mother …
Well. She’d have to stop drinking for five seconds to give a shit about what he did, wouldn’t she? Not to mention that she’d have to come home. It had been almost a month since she’d left to go on some European tour. Alone, she’d claimed, though Eric hated to admit that he had his doubts about that.
“Hey, boss,” came a hopeful voice. It was Carlos, one of his most reliable guys, and Eric grinned as he turned to look at his friend and employee. “Quitting time, right?”
“Yeah,” Eric admitted. They’d done a lot of work that day, and it wouldn’t be long at all until the house stood in place, just as solid, just as firmly there, as if it had always existed on this lot. They were ahead of schedule, and the Li family, who had commissioned this building from him, should be happy about that.
“You coming with us, man?” Carlos asked, his dark eyes sparkling as he obviously thought about the beer and the beautiful waitresses of the bar which had become the default place for the construction crew to go to more often than not after they’d knocked off for the day.
“Come on, man, you know better than that,” Eric turned up the wattage on his grin and gave his friend a faintly chastising look. “When do I evernotstick around after work? Someone has to keep an eye on you losers.”
“Good deal,” Carlos said, looking comfortable, not seeming particularly worried about Eric’s abuse. Eric thought he should be pretty used to it, and in all honesty, he gave it back just as good as he got it. All of the guys did, and Eric sometimes thought he should be more of a hardass, more of a tough boss, but that just wasn’t his style. Never had been.
As they all turned to leave, as his five employees piled into their vehicles, which were mostly beat up old pickups, Eric took just a second to look them over. He couldn’t wish for a better group of people than these two women and three men. They all worked hard, and yet they made the work site so much more fun with their laughter and their jokes.
His life was pretty good. He had to admit that. When Theo had run out on him all of those years ago—eight years ago, he was surprised to note—he had thought that he would never have anyone or anything in his life to compare. He’d stupidly pushed Theo away, had pushed something on him which Theo had never shown any sign of wanting, but Eric had panicked, and he’d let that panic lead him to idiocy.
Looking at his friends and employees, looking at the half-constructed house which reared up over his head already, he had to admit that he’d been wrong. He didn’t have nothing. He had a career, and one he loved.
It was almost enough.
No, he told himself firmly, as he pulled himself away, heading for his car, shivering a little. It was early April, and there wasn’t any snow on the ground anymore, but atnight timethere was a definite chill in the air. No, it wasn’t almost enough.
It was enough. He didn’t need Theo. Look what he’d built without him. He didn’t need him, and maybe he never had.
He couldn’t even pretend to believe his own words, so he got into the car and tried to leave his thoughts behind as he made his way to the bar where he knew that his friends would already be waiting
The place was hopping. It was the only half decent bar in town, and even on a Thursday night, it was packed full. It was packed pretty much every night because, in a small town like this, there weren’t really too many other places to go.
Leaning forward, Eric tried to catch the attention of the pretty waitress, the new girl who was really way, way too young for him, just barely twenty-one, he would bet. But she was stunning, really, with her enormous dark eyes and her long, careless hair, almost black, which hung in waves and ringlets over her shoulders and down her back.
“Hey, beautiful,” Eric said, more by reflex than anything else. Not that she wasn’t beautiful because she really was, but it was pretty much just a habit for him to flirt with pretty girls. “Can I get a beer?”
“Maybe,” the girl said, turning to grin at him, her full lips pouty and painted a dark red. Hername taginformed him that she wasFaith. “What’s in it for me?”
Eric laughed along with his friends, who were amused by her spunk. He couldn’t even help it. Most women didn’t deal so well with his flirting, but she had responded perfectly.
He found himself liking her almost immediately. Maybe that would make the difference if he spent more time with her. Maybe liking her, as opposed to just finding her pretty, would be enough for him to force through his apathy and be something.
He wanted something. Oh, he didn’t insist on rushing to the altar or anything, he wasn’t stupid. But a real girlfriend, yeah, that could be something worth trying for. So why was there this block inside of him whenever he thought about going on more than one or two dates with someone?
Having made her point, Faith grinned triumphantly at their group of six, her eyes resting on each and every single one of them.
“Anyone else want anything?” she offered, and they ordered a pitcher of beer to share between them before Faith walked off, the heels of her boots tapping on the wood floor, her legs long and slender, her hips swaying.
It should have been quite something to look at. Eric should have been planning his moves, trying to get her into bed at the first opportunity. How long had it been since he’d even tried, though? How long had it been since it had been worth the effort to him?
“I hear some big deal writer is coming to town,” Mary, a tiny blonde woman who Eric had almost refused to hire because she seemed far too fragile for the job, commented. But she had a mouth on her, and she could hang drywall and pound nails with the best of them. He had never regretted hiring her, not for a second. She did the work of two and was always cheerful about it, too.
Eric half watched Faith as she sashayed around, and his vanity, at least, was pleased to note that she was watching him right back. He half listened to what Mary was talking about, too, though he didn’t really see what it had to do with him and he could barely hear her over the live music which the bar commissioned from Thursday night to Sunday.
This time, they weren’t half bad. He was used to mostly getting country, but this time it was a metal cover band. They were playing Judas Priest, and as he listened, they transferred over to some Metallica, which he couldn’t help but approve of.
