Page 17 of Walk on the Wilde Side
"C'mon, what do ya say, Nev? You complain that I don't know enough about your town, so I'm making an effort. Let's go. We'll have a beer or two, and I can see what all the hype's about. And I won't say one negative word. I promise."
"So, you're just going to bullshit me all night?"
He growls in frustration. "Shit, I'm trying, Nev. Throw me a bone, eh?"
I sigh and set down the knife for a second. "We can go to the Gold Rush. You're not going to like it, and that's all right because I'm sure I'd hate your swanky hangouts, too."
"Well, that's almost a step in the positive direction. I'll pick you up at nine." He walks over, leans down and I turn my face for a kiss on the cheek. "See you later."
"Yep."
He walks out with far less enthusiasm than when he walked in. I can't untangle my cold reception to his visit, but I'm sure it's because he dropped by at the worst possible time.
Mona steps out of the office. "Should I start even though I'm early?"
"That'd be great. I'm behind now. Fill the tomato and spinach containers."
Mona got to work. "I heard y'all talking about going to the Gold Rush tonight. I'm thinking of going myself. Nate Wilde's band Lazy Arrow is playing, so the line will be around the block, but he's worth the wait."
"Shit, is that the local band Dane mentioned?" Nate is the youngest Wilde brother. His lead singing and original songs have gotten him noticed by music producers, but so far nothing's panned out for the band. He often tours around the country, playing at small venues that have a big following online. Whenever he's back in town, his band plays a night or two at the Gold Rush.
"Don't you like Nate's band?" Mona asks. She sighs dreamily. "He came in here last week, and I nearly melted into a puddle of butter when he smiled at me. He's super nice, too. He let me take a selfie with him, and my likes blew up. My best friend, Paula, wouldn't talk to me for like three days because I didn't call her to let her know he was in the shop." She rolls her eyes. "She's so bananas about him. I was sure you'd be a fan too since you know the Wilde boys so well."
"I love to hear Nate sing, but it gets really crowded when Lazy Arrow plays." And there's a good chance that Zander will be in that crowd, I think to myself. Zander tends to be very opinionated when it comes to my dating life, and I'm absolutely sure he won't like Dane. It's quite the double standard because whenever I critique one of Zander's girlfriends, he tells me to mind my own business. However, he's always quick to point out flaws with people I date. Maybe I can still come up with a good excuse not to go.
We finish prepping the shop. Customers are already waiting outside. Many people come in early to get sandwiches for their lunch break. I'm glad to get the workday started. It takes my mind off everything else.
nine
Zander
"Seems like you guys take a lot of breaks." Hoffman is in a super shitty mood today. The guy is in his early thirties and seems to have all the money in the fucking world and he's been bragging about his hot girlfriend, so it's hard to see why he'd be grumpy.
"Break time is required by law," I say snidely. We've already been rubbing each other like two pieces of sandpaper, and now we're just tolerating each other. The job is good money, and it gives us at least five months of solid work, but I'll be just as glad to be done with him.
"Right." He glances around and lifts his fancy sunglasses. "Don't see OSHA around right now, and you guys ended the workday early last week. Don't think you ever caught up on those missed hours."
Jameson joins us right then, and it's a good fucking thing because I'm about to tank the whole fucking job and take my digging toys and go home. "Our dad had a heart attack, and we never leave our workers unsupervised. It's a major safety violation," Jameson says sharply. "Our work is right on schedule. I doubt you'll get that when the framers and subcontractors come on board."
Hoffman pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes. "Yeah, fine. Carry on and … uh … keep up the good work," he mutters before walking away on his shiny loafers.
Jameson looks at me. "I think it pained him to say that last part. He does love to complain. I saw him standing here with that sour, rich boy scowl, and I saw your sour, less than rich boy scowl, and I thought shit, that guy is about to lose his cool. You that is. I don't think Hoffman has any cool to lose."
"Probably good you arrived when you did cuz, yep, shit was about to get ugly. He's pissed that we take coffee breaks. I see the asshole walking around all day with that phone pressed to his ear, and we're the ones slacking off." I look toward the office trailer. Hoffman is walking up the steps to the door. He takes a second to stomp his shoes and get rid of the dirt he collected on his self-important mission to let us know we're taking too many breaks. "I still say there's something sketchy about the guy. Can't put my finger on it, but the fancy car, the big investment projects, the expensive watch and clothes, everything looks and feels like a mirage. I think he's one bad deal away from not being able to come up with the money to pay us."
Jameson looks over at me with an annoyed grin. "All right, sunshine, back up on the excavator."
"Yeah, okay, but I think I'm right. You get good intuition for these things after growing up with our old man, the dude who invented sketchy business deals."
"I grew up with the same master of sketch," Jameson says, "but I prefer to remain positive. And because we grew up under Finnegan Wilde's very unwatchful eye, we know how to make sure we get paid. And now that I'm sounding just like Dad, I'm going back to work before Mr. Prissy Pants has to trek out here through the dirt in his pretty loafers. Speaking of the old man, Nate says he keeps getting in trouble for saying inappropriate things to the nurses. Just can't get the man to step into the new century. I think the doctor might discharge him early for bad behavior."
I laugh. "Like the opposite of an early prison release for good behavior. What a prick our old man is. Not many people get kicked out of the hospital, but if there's a way to do it, Dad'll find it."
I climb back up on the excavator, pull on my ear protection and start up the engine. I toot the warning horn once to let Jorge and Gus know break's over. Gus puts away his vape pen. The vapor is still streaming from his nose as he heads over. Jorge ends a call, and we get back to plowing up the land.
We're a good two hours into the afternoon shift when Jorge says he needs to get an aspirin. I'm happy to take a break and turn off the excavator. I wait inside the cab and pull out my phone to scroll through stupid shit. Movement at the trailer catches my eye, and I go into instant defense mode, hackles raised and all, sure that Hoffman is coming out to see why the excavator is shut down.
He walks down the steps and turns. A car is coming up the long stretch of dirt. Everything's been watered down to regulation, but the approaching car is moving fast enough to still kick up dust. It's an old Camaro with patches of different paint colors and dents in the passenger door. The car stops at the trailer. Hoffman crosses his arms defensively as he waits for the driver to get out.
