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“Yeah, well, she’s a fucking liar. She stole it.”
He shrugs as if to say, Well, what can ya do?
Then he resumes his duties.
“All I can say is, I hope she was worth it.”I shouldn’t have told my partners what happened, Grant most of all. He won’t drop it at breakfast the next morning.
We’re all sitting around a table in an old diner named Lonny’s. It’s the only restaurant we could find that was open early. The food is only one minuscule step up from the crap I could have gotten in the vending machine back at the motel, but their coffee is strong and, after the night I’ve had, I need it. I ask the waitress for a refill just as Grant launches back into it.
He couldn’t look more pleased with himself if he tried. I think he’s soiled his pants.
“You thought she was into you and then she—” He breaks off into a fit of laughter so hearty and all-consuming that his next words are complete and utter gibberish. I don’t pick up any sounds that resemble the English language until, “And then in the bathroom—” More laughter. He’s wiping his eyes now. “Took your wallet!”
Grant is our youngest partner and the one I’m most likely to punch on a daily basis. It’s that damn baby face. If it weren’t for the fact that he keeps his blond hair buzzed short and stands close to my same height, I’d mistake him for a teenager. Our other two partners, Steven and Brad, sit quietly, sipping their coffee and keeping their attention down on the blueprints we’re supposed to be discussing. I credit their resolve to their age. Both of them are well into their 40s and married, each with a couple of kids under their belt. Then I notice the smile Brad is trying desperately to hide and that idea flies out the window. They’re all assholes. Every one of them.
Steven nudges my shoulder. “So you got scammed—who cares? Jesus, with that face, any one of us would have fallen for it.”
Brad agrees, and even Grant stops laughing long enough to nod along.
He reaches across the table as if wanting to shake my hand, cocky smile in place. “Hey man, I actually owe you one. It could have been me in that bar getting duped—”
Steven motions across his neck for him to cut it out. “He’s been sufficiently shamed,” he says, nodding back down to the blueprints. “Let’s move on and focus so we can get the hell out of here.”
“How far is the site from where we are now?” I ask, itching to leave.
Steven narrows one eye, thinking it over. “As the crow flies, not too far. Unfortunately, it’s all backcountry roads. It’ll take us over an hour.”
“We’ll need to leave soon. The reps are meeting us there at 9 AM and I don’t want to be late,” Brad adds. “That should give us plenty of time to walk the property and go over final details before we head back to Austin.”
“And if they approve?” I ask, knowing they will. Permits have been stamped. Steven personally oversaw the design, and in our final proposal—the one we presented two months ago—the hotel chain’s entire wish list was fulfilled and then some. “When do we break ground?”
“A month from now if all goes as planned.”
“Still up for the challenge?” Steven asks, eyeing me with skepticism.
I don’t really have a choice. Lockwood Construction is a well-oiled machine because we each play our part: Steven is the principal architect and creative director; Brad heads up acquisitions, sales, and financial modeling; Grant oversees the engineering department; and I’m the one on the ground acting as principal contractor and senior-most project manager on our large-scale commercial builds. It’s an unusual setup. We’ve taken the industry standard and turned it on its head. Usually a client has to outsource every piece of a project from architectural plans to soil reports to construction. We wanted everything done in house by a staff capable of streamlining projects and cutting down on lead time.
In Austin and the surrounding areas, we usually have two or three projects going at once: shopping malls, university expansions, hospital complexes. We’re an emerging force in the world of design-build firms, and as of this month, our office in downtown Austin employs over a hundred people.
That’s part of the reason why this project excites me.
We’ve been working our asses off the last few years. I’ve been forced into the office, stuffed inside boardrooms, and crowded around conference tables entirely too much for my liking. When our client on this new project strongly requested that one of the four partners not only manage but be present through the fruition of the build out here in East Texas, I didn’t hesitate before jumping on board.
So what if that means I have to live out here in the middle of nowhere? So what if there aren’t real accommodations on site? I like roughing it.
