Extensive (A Single Dad Box Set)

by Claire Adams

  It creaks open as far as the chain will let it and Amy seethes, “Wait down the hall. We’ll let you know when the moving guys are here. Until then, I’d suggest you get a real job and go fuck yourself.”

  “Amy, we were talking about getting married. How can you do this?”

  “We were talking about getting married when you were getting jobs that I didn’t have to put in quotation marks,” she answers. “I’ve found someone who’s going to be able to provide for me and my lifestyle, not just for a couple of weeks, but for the rest of my life. Do you think I’m really going to give that up to stay with your broke ass?”

  “Amy, come on,” I tell her. “I love you. Don’t do this.”

  “You know, Cort actually went to college. You might want to think about that someday,” she says, and closes the door on me again.

  This is the worst day of my life.

  * * *

  “I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” Alec, one of my workers and probably the only friend I have left, says. “You landed the job today, and come on—we both knew Amy has been sleeping around for a while now.”

  I look over at him across the pool table, saying, “You knew this was going on?”

  “You didn’t?” he asks. “I told you when the two of you got together that she’s all about the pocketbook, man. I don’t know what you’re doing with yourself that you never saw that, but it’s hardly news. I mean, when the two of you first met, what was the question she asked before she agreed to go on a date with you?”

  “Oh, come on, who remembers that sort of thing?” I ask.

  “I do,” he says, “and I know for a fact that you do, too. I don’t know why you’re still trying to ignore the facts, man. She’s never been good for you. Plus, she turned you into a withering idiot.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I tell him. “We used to be happy, man. It’s only been recently that things have started getting rocky between the two of us.”

  “Oh, come off it, man,” he says. “What did she ask you before she agreed to go out on that first date with you?”

  I sigh. “She asked what the square footage of my apartment was,” I answer.

  “Yeah, and what did she say when you told her?”

  He’s got a point here, but I’m really not in the mood to be mad at her yet. That’s at least two pitchers of beer off. Right now, I just want to wallow in my self-pity and dejection.

  To make matters worse, I don’t really like beer.

  “I don’t remember, I’m telling you.”

  “She said, ‘Well, I guess that’ll work for now, but I like my men to have more to offer. You’re lucky you caught me in the middle of a dry spell.’ Does that sound familiar?”

  “I know what she said, okay? Can we just talk about something else?” I ask. “How’s Irene? How are the kids?”

  “They’re a nightmare,” Alec answers, laughing. “All of them. Listen, you’ve got to find a way to get over this or else you’re going to be worthless for God knows how long.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him and I take my shot, knocking the eight ball straight into the corner pocket.

  Unfortunately, it’s on the second shot of the game.

  “And that’s another 20 bucks for me,” Alec announces. “You want another game, or am I going to overdraw your account?”

  “Don’t get too cocky,” I tell him. “You know it takes me a couple of games to get going.”

  “Eric,” he says, “this is game number seven. How long does it take you to warm up, really?”

  “Shut up,” I tell him. “So you’re telling me that I should just ‘get over it,’ huh? You know, I hadn’t thought of that. It’s so simple, elegant, and I’m sure it’s going to be just that easy.”

  “Don’t worry,” he says, “as your friend, employee, and life coach—”

  “Yeah, I don’t remember signing up for that last one,” I interrupt.

  “As your friend, your employee, and your life coach,” he continues, “I’m here to help. Get out your phone.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Oh, just shut up and grab your phone.”

  I pull my phone from my pocket.

  “All right,” he says, “take down this number: 555-8928.”

  “And whose number am I putting into my phone?” I ask.

  “Oh, she’s great. You’re going to love her. Just send her a message.”

  “I’ve been single for like four hours,” I tell him. “I’m really not looking for a blind date.”

  “Just send her a message,” Alec says. “From what I understand, she’s DTF.”

  “What’s her name?” I ask.

  “Uh…” He’s looking through his phone, which is doing very little to inspire confidence. “You know me with names. She’s in my phone as chick to help Eric get the fuck out of his stupid relationship, but I don’t think that’s her proper name.”

  “I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet,” I laugh.

  “I don’t know,” he says finally. “Just send her a message.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “It’s Irene’s friend’s sister,” he tells me. “I’ve never met her or anything, but Irene tells me she’d be right up your alley. She’s driven, dedicated, total control freak. That’s your type, right?”

  “Which friend?” I ask.

  “Uh…” Alec responds, looking through his phone again. “It’s the blonde one.”

  “You’re really making me feel like this is a good decision,” I chuckle. “Really, I’m inspired, and you know what that means…”

  “No way,” Alec says. He knows exactly what’s coming. “I’m nowhere near drunk enough to fully appreciate you humiliating yourself.”

  “It’s happening,” I tell him as I walk over to the jukebox and pick the one song that bothers Alec more than anything else in the world.

  Let me be really clear on that point: it doesn’t just bother him more than any other song in the world, but every other thing in the world.

  That said, I don’t enjoy it any more than he does. The only reason I can stand it is because I love seeing him tormented to the point of madness.

  After all, what are friends for?

  So, the music starts and with the first note, Alec is actually dry heaving. I used to think it was just an exaggeration, but no, I’ve made the mistake of being too close to him when the song starts going.

  He ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes.

  So, as the first terrible words to Nickelback’s “She Keeps Me Up” come over the speakers, I rack up the balls and tell him, “Double or nothing.”

  It’s not fair, but he should be able to turn down the bet. The problem for Alec, though, is that he’s the type who needs to prove that he can handle himself in any situation.

  Continually proving that he can’t tickles me.

  “You’re on, asshole,” he says, and as long as I can make it through this game without completely screwing myself, I’m about to break even on at least one thing today.

  * * *

  So, it’s the first day renovating Lady Bits—incidentally, my favorite store name ever—and I’m stuck here waiting for the rest of my crew to show up.

  José’s waiting here with me, but everyone else is taking their sweet-ass time showing up. Rather than just standing around looking like we’re the biggest waste of money in the world, José and I start moving things out of the work area.

  Jessica, the long-haired, leggy, brunette store owner comes over. Her face is almost identical to Evangeline Lilly’s. Maybe this gorgeous woman could be my rebound to get my head out of this stupid breakup fog.

  She’s smiling right until she sees that it’s only two of us.

  “Hey,” she says. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”

  “They’re coming,” I tell her. “They had to stop off for some materials, but they should be here pretty soon. What can I do for our beautiful client today?”

  “I was thinking,” she says, trying to
hide the fact that she’s blushing. “Would it be too much trouble if we were to extend that window even farther, like all the way around the corner, at least by a few feet? That way, people could see what we’ve got before they even come in here.”

  “Yeah,” I answer, “we could do that. It is going to be more materials and labor, though, so if that’s all right with you—”

  “That’s fine,” she says. “Also, I was wondering if we could maybe change the sunken area to three feet with four stairs leading down. I know it’s going to cut into the space a little, but I really think it’s going to make this whole section pop, and I really want to draw attention to this area. We’ve got some really great stuff already and even more’s coming in, it’s just fabulous.”

  This may be the first time I’ve worked for someone who uses the word “fabulous,” but as long as she’s ready to pay for the ideas she has, I’m on board.

  “Sure,” I tell her. “We can do that. This is José, by the way. He’s my number two, so if you ever need anything and I’m out picking up supplies or something, he’s the guy you want to talk to, although, I’ll be happy to make time for you whenever you like.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, José,” Jessica says, ignoring the fact that I’m actually hitting on her.

  José shakes her hand, but immediately goes back to work.

  “You’ll have to excuse him,” I tell her. “He’s all about the work.”

  Alec, lazy motherfucker that he is, comes through the front of the store scratching his ass.

  Jessica, upon seeing him, purses her lips, but somehow manages to keep her justifiable judgment to herself.

  “What do we got, boss?” Alec asks.

  “Right now, we’re just clearing the area so we can start getting things mapped out,” I tell him. “Why don’t you give José a hand while I finish talking to the lovely Mrs. Davis, here?”

  “It’s Miss, actually” Jessica says.

  “Oh, my apologies,” I say, but I’m starting to tire of keeping up a happy, cordial front.

  It’s nothing that she’s done, although I do think some of her ideas are pretty ridiculous, but after what happened with Amy yesterday, I’m really not in the mood to do anything but sit on the couch that I don’t have anymore and fall into an oblivion of spilled potato chips and infomercials.

  “Why don’t we go back to my office?” Jessica suggests.

  “Okay,” I respond, and turn to the guys. “Keep going and I’ll be back in a minute. Also, if anyone knows where Lou and Ian are, maybe give them a call and threaten with some kind of physical violence if they’re not here in the next five minutes, will you?”

  “You got it, boss,” Alec answers.

  I follow Jessica back to her office and close the door behind me.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I tell her, taking a moment to soak up her beauty before her expression changes to one of unbridled anger. The way her dark hair falls over her shoulders is enticing now, but in a minute, I have a feeling we’re not going to be getting along so well. “I didn’t want to say anything out there, but I don’t really think that you’re going to want to lower the floor that much down there. It might add a nice visual effect, but it’s going to cost more, and I really think you’re going to lose more space than you’re going to gain by getting rid of the storage room.”

  “Well, I’d like to try it out,” she says. “I think it would be a wonderful way to draw attention to the section.”

  “Yeah, but what I’m telling you is that you won’t have room for a section, and what little you’ll be able to put there isn’t really going to be worth the flight of stairs.”

  “Well, it’s not going to be a flight of stairs,” she says. “It’s only an extra 18 inches.”

  “Eighteen inches is a lot,” I tell her. “Unless you want it to just be a sheer three-foot drop-off, it’s not going to be an efficient use of space.”

  “Well, why don’t we try it my way, and if it doesn’t work out, we can always change it back to what we talked about yesterday, sound good?” she asks.

  It’s not an unreasonable suggestion, but I’m really not in the mood to haggle.

  “It’s your call,” I tell her. “If you want to waste the money, that’s your choice, but I do have to tell you that it’s going to take a little more time to get that much of your floor torn up. You know that it’s concrete under that carpet, right?”

  “I’m aware,” she says. “Now, why don’t you go see if you can round up the rest of your crew and let’s do it my way? That’s what I hired you to do, so just do it.”

  “I’m just trying to help,” I tell her.

  “It doesn’t seem like you’re trying to help anything,” she answers. “What it seems like is that you’re going to just reject any changes that I want to have done because you don’t want to work your crew. Speaking of which, why are there only two guys out there? You told me you’d be here by 9.”

  “I was here by 9,” I answer. “José was here before that. There’s a lot to do in preparation for this. We can’t just start tearing shit up without making sure we have the right tools to survey what we’re doing. I’ve got an electrician and a plumber coming in to work on any wiring and piping in that storage closet and that wall you want us to open up for your new window, and that’s something that’ll have to be taken care of before we can get that taken out. So, if you could just relax and at least let me and my men get started before you jump all over us with new ideas that, frankly, are never going to work, maybe you should—”

  “Mr. Dawson,” Jessica interrupts. “I get that you’re having a bad day, and I’m not going to bother asking why as it’s none of my business. What is my business, however, is what happens in my store, and that includes what your crew does and the way that you talk to me. And to be honest, I’m not very impressed with either right now, so if you don’t want me to tear up that contract, maybe you should go back to doing what you do, I’ll go back to doing what I do, and I think we can successfully avoid each other until you calm down and remember how to behave as a professional.”

  Let it go, Eric. Just let it go.

  “That’s pretty rich,” I scoff. “I don’t come in here and tell you what to do with your lingerie section or how to display your shoes. I get that you’ve got some ideas, but if you want this coming out in a way that’s not just going to end up costing you time, money and customers, maybe you should listen to someone that’s been doing this for a while and get off my back.”

  I’m pretty sure I just talked myself out of a job.

  “Mr. Dawson, I think it would be the best thing for both of us if you leave my office,” she says.

  I’m looking for something to say to maybe smooth things over, but nothing’s coming to mind.

  “And I think that should happen now,” she says.

  “Great,” I tell her, and walk out of the office.

  I just went off on a client. I’ve never gone off on a client—well, not one that didn’t deserve it.

  Yeah, some of her ideas are pretty naïve, but I shouldn’t have done any of that.

  By the time I get back to the work area, Ian’s showed up, but Lou’s nowhere to be found.

  “Anyone seen or heard from Lou?” I ask.

  Everyone just shakes their heads.

  I pull the phone out of my pocket and dial the number.

  “Yeah, boss, I’m headed over now.”

  “Do you know what time it is?” I ask.

  “I know I’m running a little late,” he says, “but you wouldn’t believe this party last night, boss. It was off the—”

  “You’re fired.”

  With that, I hang up the phone.

  I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. I feel a lot better, and I didn’t have to get in hot water with the client.

  What’s left of my crew looks up at me, this being the first time I’ve ever actually fired someone.

  “There’s
room in the unemployment line if that’s what you’re looking for,” I tell them.

  I’ve never seen my men clear an area so quickly.

  Chapter Three

  Two Gallons of Regret

  Jessica

  We’re three weeks into the remodel, and nowhere near completed.

  It took them three days just to get everything surveyed so they knew what to remove before they knocked down the walls, and now that whole area is a complete eyesore.

  I realize that these things take time, but I’ve never seen such a lazy crew in my life.

  Worse still, Eric has been fighting me on every little change I want to make to the project. He keeps telling me that we’re setting back the clock, but this is my store, and I want what I want.

  I do feel kind of bad about having them dig out that two-foot sunken area only to have them refill half the resulting hole in the store, but how was I supposed to know that it wasn’t going to work?

  Right now, I’m walking toward the front, trying to keep as much distance between the crew and myself as possible. If they see me, they don’t bother acknowledging it, and that’s just fine by me.

  When I get to the front, I ask Linda the same question I’ve been asking her for the past two weeks, “Slow day, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “You’d think with all the beefcake we’ve got in here, we’d be pulling in all the unhappily married women in town, but everyone’s afraid of getting splinters in their eyes.”

  “What do you think I should do?” I ask. “I thought the job was supposed to be done by now, and it doesn’t look like they’ve gotten hardly anything done.”

  “This crap takes time,” Linda says. “My dad worked in construction for a few years when I was a kid. He’d take us by a build a couple of times a week and it never looked anywhere near done until it was really nearly done.”

  “So you think I should give it more time?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “It’s your store. What I can tell you is that if business doesn’t start picking up, we’re going to run into some serious trouble.”

  “Yeah,” I tell her. “You’re right about that part.”