CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CLAY
I’ve been in Buffalo long enough that I’ve got a damn routine.
Every weekday, I’m up at seven. Force of habit from my days on the crew in Missouri. I eat a big breakfast with lots of coffee, shower with rock music blaring, and jerk off into the drain.
When I do it, there’s only one thing I ever think about now, revisiting my last hookup with Nicholas or working myself up for the next.
Keep thinking about his voice when he was dirty talking me, all the things he said he wanted to do to my dick.
And I keep thinking about getting at his ass again.
The questions are fading the more we experiment, and harder desires are taking their place. It’s weird to think that I ever doubted this about myself. But then again, I’m not sure I’d have such a strong reaction to just any guy.
Nicholas is… special.
This morning, after breakfast, I look at woodworking videos on my phone while I drink more coffee, always trying to learn something new. When I’m good and ready, I turn my attention to the long list of repairs, which will occupy me until dinner.
Bunch of bullshit goes wrong when you don’t maintain a place right, but I’m doing as much as I can on the cheap,knowing every dollar saved here will count when I set up shop in Missouri. Eventually, though, I’ll have to face the expensive projects, like that damn roof.
I even put up a profile on one of those handyman sites, just in case I can pocket a few extra dollars while I’m here.
My attention turns. Wonder how much I’ll run into Nicholas today.
Some days, we see each other a lot. I try to keep my eyes down and stay focused on renovations unless he talks to me first. There’s that feeling in my gut still, hungry and horny and restless. And there’s another part of me that wants to pull him into the stairwell and go at each other.
But I don’t let it show. A few times a week, we’re something else together, hidden in my place upstairs. Out in the world, we’re just two people, sharing a building temporarily.
I tie up my boots, but before I can walk downstairs, a knock interrupts me. I expect it’s Nicholas, and I’m glad for a chance to see him away from the crowds.
When I pull the door open, though, it’s Sue. She’s wearing Carhartt bib overalls with a pink T-shirt, and she has a steaming paper cup of coffee in each hand.
“Good morning. You’re up already.”
I grunt in the affirmative. “I like to get an early start.”
Sue flashes me a smile, but her voice comes out stern. “I’m down a worker today, and saw you put an ad up looking for gigs. I assume you can handle basic roofing and light structural? I pay union wages, union hours.”
I squint at her. “You’re offering me a job.”
“Would you be interested? The work site is only three doors down. Not sure how bad the roof will be when we rip the shingles up, but I imagine it will take our crew a week at most.”
Even a few days of union wages would be huge right now. It means extending my trip in Buffalo even longer, but with work like this, I might be able to avoid taking out such a big loan.
“Cool. Thanks for thinking of me.”
Sue hands me a coffee. “I don’t put up with any bullshit,” she says sweetly. “That means you take your full break, full lunch. We don’t skimp on safety standards. This is for Mr. Hale and his diner. Since the eighties, he’s kept the establishment open, slinging pancakes and bottomless cups of coffee, and now he needs a proper roof. No cutting corners. Understood?”
I nod brusquely. “Got it.”
“Good. See you out front in five.”
Sue must be in a tight spot if she’s coming to knock on my door. I’ve eyed her work, though, and I know she’s the real deal. As excited as I am about the money, I’m pretty hyped up about seeing her crew in action, too.
Bet I can learn a lot working with them.
The team is Sue and three other carpenters who look to be in their forties and fifties, a little younger than her, maybe. Everyone moves together like a well-oiled machine, and I do my best to fit myself into the flow, stepping in where I can, when I can. Soon enough, I end up pulling shingles on the side while everyone talks like old friends, the conversation meandering and interrupted constantly with roofing chatter.
