Page 2 of Under Construction

"I'm taking them now," Dennis says, his grip tightening on his tablet. "But we have an issue with—"

"No issues. Just photos. Clean ones."

The line goes dead.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"Need help with your photo shoot?" Chris's voice is closer now, smooth and irritatingly amused.

Why whywhydoes he have to be the only crew leader who hasn't quit? Who somehow manages to make Dennis's designs work while simultaneously making him want to commit murder.

Dennis turns to find him leaning against a concrete pillar, safety vest unzipped despite regulations, that knowing smirk playing on his lips like he can see right through Dennis's professional facade.

"Do you actually do any work?" Dennis snaps. "Or do you just stand around making my life difficult?"

"Bit of both." Chris grins, all dimples and attitude. "Mostly the second one though. It's more fun."

Dennis is about to respond when his phone buzzes again, angry against his thigh. Another message from his father:

Investors arriving next week. Everything must be perfect.

He looks up at the covered beams, bamboo hidden behind layers of drywall. Then at Chris's stupid smirking face, dimples visible even under the hard hat. Then back at his phone, the screen glaring under the sun.

Fuck.

"The beams need to be exposed by Friday," Dennis says, already walking away. "Tell your team to fix it or I'm filing a formal complaint."

"Sure thing, your highness!" Chris calls after him, his voice carrying across the site, boorish and obnoxious, sounding more self-satisfied with every word. "Anything else? Want us to polish them while we're at it? Maybe add some sparkles?"

As usual, the laughter from the crew grows louder, flocking to Chris's voice like seagulls to an open bag of chips. But underneath the teasing, Dennis knows the work will get done. Because for all his insufferable attitude, Chris is the only one who seems to actually believe in what they're building.

Dennis bristles, jaw clenching. One day he's going to snap and punch Chris right in his perfectly symmetrical face. But not today. Today he needs clean progress photos and zero drama.

His phone buzzes a third time, vibrating like a knife in his pocket that he wishes would just stab him already.

Today is going to be a very, very long day.

02Music Mayhem

You can hear the site before you see it these days. Music blasts from industrial speakers Chris installed "for worker safety announcements"—a technicality that makes him untouchable according to union regulations.

Dennis's temples throb in time with the bass. Third day this week he's arrived to find his own construction site turned into some kind of protest against his authority.

"Volume violation," he snaps as he passes Chris, who's leaning against a support beam, managing to look both perfectly competent and completely insubordinate.

"Actually," Chris drawls, not even looking up from his tablet, "OSHA guidelines state that workers need to be able to hear safety warnings over machinery noise. I've got the calculations right here if you'd like to review them. Sir."

The 'sir' sounds like 'fuck you'. Chris's dimples appear, the kind of perfect smile that probably got him out of detention in high school. Probably still gets him out of speeding tickets.

"Just because you know the regulations—"

"Better than you do?" Chris finally looks up, eyes wide. "Someone has to, since our fearless leader's too busy picking out imported marble for his office floor."

Of course Chris would know about the marble. Probably looked up the price just to have ammunition.

"The support beams—" Dennis starts.

"Are ahead of schedule." Chris straightens up, suddenly all business. Rattles off load statistics and completion percentages that prove, yet again, that he's actually brilliant at his job. "But please, tell me more about how music's disrupting our productivity. I love when you try to sound like you know what's happening on your own site."

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