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The stupid grin is still fixed on my face as I trudge to work. The new construction site is out of town, a new motel in the works, so I take the bus and don’t even give a shit when an old lady with a lapdog sits beside me and the rabid animal pisses on my boot
.
Damn dog is lucky I got laid and I’m in a good mood. His stiff ears and mangy coat remind me of Buddy. I remember Luna saying something about him helping her find me yesterday—shit, was it only yesterday that I saw my life flashing before my eyes? Making a mental note to buy him some doggy food, I lean back and watch the houses and trees roll by.
My arm aches, the shoulder socket and my wrist pretty damn sore, reminders of my adventure—and still, I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face, even when I hop off the bus and walk into the construction site, seeing Superintendent Asshole Hudson heading my way like a storm cloud.
Fucking joy.
Bracing myself, keeping the damn smile pasted on, I slow down and wait for him to start.
“Decided to be on time for a change?” he grouses and I almost laugh at the lame line. “Get to work.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And no cigarette breaks. I got my eye on you, boy. Any day, any hour or minute you slack off, will be cut from your paycheck, hear me?”
“Loud and clear.” Keeping a straight face is hard, harder than I thought, when he’s been on my case since always and my temper is on a hair-trigger every time he talks down to me like that.
Not today, though, and I get to work, shaking my head at myself and the mood I’m in. My thoughts are jumping all over the place, my mind helpfully flashing images from last night and this morning—Luna’s naked body, her tits, her mouth, her moans echoing in my ears—and I almost manage to brain myself with a pile of bricks falling right at me, before I even managed to put on my helmet.
The guy standing on the floor above, Darryl, waves cheekily down at me.
Motherfucker. I give him the finger and turn away, ramming the helmet onto my head.
Real clever, Ross. Yesterday you almost splattered yourself all over the garage yard, and now you almost lost your head.
Right when you’ve found something to live for.
The thought leaves me floundering, standing still as other workers pass me by, carrying heavy sacks of concrete and cussing each other out. Where did this come from anyway? I know better than to get my hopes up. Than to hope in anything, period. Or anyone.
Nothing has changed, I tell myself firmly. Sex with a pretty girl, no matter how hot, no matter that she saved your life... isn’t a promise for anything more. You saw how she all but ran out this morning.
Yeah, yeah. Right.
At least work manages to get my mind off her for a little while—a good thing, too, as more debris falls every time I walk by, and once I slip and almost faceplant when I step on a bunch of loose steel rods. Thinking of her is dangerous already—doing it while working is a death sentence.
The moment I clock out, though, all bets are off, and I catch myself thinking about tonight, daydreaming, wondering if she’ll come over. If I should buy something for... for dinner. And drinks. Does she drink? At her age—and all the way to now, honestly—I was drunk all the goddamn time. I was taken in for drunk and disorderly fuck knows how many times.
But she’s not me. She’s nothing like me.
Remember that, Ross. Despite everything, she knows where she’s going, unlike you. Maybe you should take notes.
“Whassup, loser?” one of the guys calls out to me, and I frown. Alan. He’s one of the assholes who beat me up the other day. Way to ruin my pleasant thoughts.
“Why don’t you just fuck off.”
“How about you say hi to my fist, huh?”
“How about you say hi to mine, assface?”
Suddenly I’m surrounded by the usual troupe of clowns, and my hackles are up and bristling. Letting my ratty backpack drop, I raise my fists.
It gets me some raised brows and smirks.
Motherfucking assholes. Between them and the troupe in town—Ed and his pals—I wouldn’t know which ones to throw down harder.
“Why don’t you lie back and enjoy this,” another snickers. “We know what you like.”
