by Claire Adams
Of all her terms for me that I don’t like, and there are many of them, “sissy” is the only one that actually pisses me off.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I ask her, covering the phone. “I can’t remember how many times I’ve picked you up from bars, parties… I’ve basically been your fucking designated driver since we were in high school.”
“Yeah, and I’m finally starting to see why that pissed you off so much,” she says. “Mom’s in the hospital. This isn’t all about you, Jessica.”
For whatever reason, her use of my first name makes me feel like an asshole.
I put the phone back against my ear and say, “Just meet me at my apartment and we’ll go from there.”
There’s no answer.
“Eric?”
I look down at the phone. The call’s already ended.
“I wonder where I lost him,” I mutter.
“I think around the time you told him you needed more vodka after ditching him in the bar he came to pick you up from is a pretty good guess,” she answers.
I look out the window.
“I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” I ask.
“You’re fucking a lot of things up,” she says.
“Gee, thanks. That’s very helpful,” I tell her.
“Just get your head out of your ass,” she says. “We’re all going through some shit right now, but we need to be there for Mom. That’s the important thing.”
“I just wish I knew that she was going to be okay,” I tell her.
“Me too,” Kristin answers.
We pull into my building’s lot, and Kristin parks in my space.
“Call your friend back and tell him you don’t need any vodka. I’ll stay with you until he gets here,” Kristin says.
“Why would he come?” I ask. “I haven’t exactly been the best version of myself the last couple of days.”
“Nobody expects you to be,” Kristin says, bumping the lock button on her keychain. “Maybe just start aiming a little higher than straight down, and I’m sure you’ll be okay.”
I feel stupid. I feel stupid and angry and depressed and helpless and I’m really not in the mood to be around myself right now, not that I have a choice in the matter.
That’s why I wanted to drink, but it’s not helping shit.
I tried to find a bar that reflected my feelings, but I just ended up getting bored and even more frustrated with everything.
“Is this what you were feeling like?” I ask as we make our way into the building.
“What do you mean?” she returns.
“All those times I picked you up,” I explain. “Did you feel this, I don’t know, broken?”
“Probably a different version of it,” Kristin says, “but yeah. I wasn’t doing it because I was happy.”
“Do you want a drink?” I ask her.
“Remember what I said about relocating your head?” she retorts.
I smile, and as we get to my apartment door, I realize that Eric’s got the key. Unlocking my phone again, I call the number.
“If you really want more vodka, I’ll get it for you,” he says.
“No, that’s okay,” I tell him. “I do, however, need my key to get in. Are you close?”
There’s the sound of a cash register opening and closing.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“I had to make a quick stop by the store,” he says. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay, thanks,” I answer, and hang up.
Kristin and I sit against the wall.
I turn to her, asking, “So the surgery went well?”
“Yeah,” Kristin says, “that’s what Dad told me, anyway. He said that they were able to get what they knew was in there. The only thing they can do now is hope that they didn’t miss anything.”
“And that’ll make her better?” I ask. “I mean, if they got everything, that’ll be the end of it and she’ll be all right?”
“I don’t know,” Kristin answers.
“What about chemo or radiation?” I ask. “Why haven’t they talked about doing any of that?”
“This kind of cancer doesn’t really respond to any of that,” she answers. “The only thing they can do is go in there and pull it out.”
“So she’s going to be fine?” I ask again.
Kristin just looks at the ground and says, “I hope so.”
We wait for a while and Eric eventually shows up. He’s got a brown bag in his hand, and before Kristin or I can say anything about it, he says, “I was already at the liquor store when you called. I would have just left it in the car, but that wouldn’t really have made much of a difference right now.”
Kristin stands and helps me to my feet. Eric pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them over to me.
“I can stay as long as you want me to,” Eric says, but as soon as the door’s unlocked, I can’t pretend like I want anyone to see me right now.
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “Go ahead and head back home. I’ll give you a call later.”
I don’t know if the look he’s giving me is one of disappointment or worry, but it’s definitely one of the above.
“Are you sure?” he asks. “I’m taking the day. I can give you a hand around the house, give you someone to talk to—I mean, I know Kristin’s here, but sometimes the more the—”
“I’m sure,” I interrupt. I can feel myself snapping at him, but I can’t stop it.
It’s not like we’re some serious couple or like we’re in love or anything. So far, I think we’d be pushing it to say that we’re anything more than glorified fuck buddies. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I do love him.
With the door open, I motion for Kristin to come in, but she shakes her head.
“I’ve got to get to the hospital,” she says, and she turns to Eric. “Do you need a ride home?”
“That’s all right,” he says. “I can just take a cab. I live in the opposite direction from where you’re going.”
“Let me give you a ride home,” she insists. “I’ve got a little bit of time to kill. Our dad said he’d give me a call when she’s awake, and he hasn’t called yet.”
Eric looks at me and then back at Kristin.
“If you’re sure it won’t be a problem,” he says.
Kristin turns and gives me a hug, saying, “Remember: shower, nap, coffee, toothbrush. You’ll probably want to do it in that order, too.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
As she pulls away, I can see the uncertainty in Eric’s eyes. He makes a decision and starts to move toward me, but I just turn back toward Kristin and say, “Well, I’ll see you guys later.”
I shut the door behind me, and for a brief moment, I’m just proud of myself for not grabbing that brown paper bag from Eric’s hand.
That pride doesn’t last long, though.
Chapter Sixteen
The Keys to the Asylum
Eric
“I don’t know what to do, guys,” I tell my crew. “I know that last job was supposed to be the thing that turned it all around for us, but people just aren’t hiring. I’m open to suggestions.”
It’s been three days since I last saw Jessica. She’s not answering my calls or my texts.
I stopped by her place yesterday, but she either wasn’t home or she just didn’t want to come to the door.
Now, sitting in this booth with my crew—Alec excluded, as he’s back finishing up his thing in Jersey—eating pizza, I’m seriously considering dissolving the company.
“I don’t know what to tell you, boss,” Ian says, “but if things don’t turn around, and I hate to say this, but, you know, we need income.”
“I know,” I answer. “I’d hate to see that happen, but I’m not blind to reality, either.”
“Well, it’s been fun,” the newest new guy says, and gets up from the table. He drops a few bucks to cover his portion of the meal and walks away.
None of us try to stop him.
�
��Even if we could get something small, just enough to get by, maybe that would be enough to keep things going until we can find something better,” Ian says.
“I’ve made some appointments and placed some bids,” I tell him, “but everyone’s shooting low these days. Just yesterday, I underbid a project by about 20 percent and the guy just looked at me like I was asking him to pay me in gold bullion.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Ian says. “Maybe we’re bidding too low and people aren’t taking us seriously. I get that other guys are bidding low, too, but a lot of people won’t hire a crew that’s underbidding. They think it’s a sign that we don’t know what we’re doing.”
“What do you think, José?” I ask.
“I know of a job,” he says, “but it’s not going to pay like we’re used to.”
I sit up a little straighter in my seat.
“What is it?” I ask.
“My cousin’s redoing his bathroom, countertops and cabinets, mostly, and he asked if I could help. He offered to pay, but it’s not enough for all of us.”
“How much?” Ian asks.
“He said 500, plus the cost of materials,” José answers. “It’s a one, maybe two day job with all of us, but I don’t know if it’d be worth it to bring everyone in for it. It’s a small bathroom, I don’t even think all of us would fit in there at the same time.”
“Well,” Ian says, turning to me, “it’s something.”
“Yeah,” I answer, and take a drink of water. “It’s something.”
“I can give him a call if you want,” José says. “If you think it’s worth our time.”
“If nothing else,” I tell him, smiling, “we’ll be helping out your cousin. As far as I can see it, there’s no reason to turn it down while we’ve got nothing else going on.”
José nods and gets up from his seat, pulling the phone from his pocket.
“Have you talked to Lou?” Ian asks.
“No,” I answer. “I’m not exactly his favorite person right now.”
“He just got on with a crew that’s doing the new bank building on 42nd,” Ian says. “Maybe it’s time for us to start jumping on the larger jobs.”
“It takes a bigger crew than what we’ve got, though,” I tell him. “I can’t afford to pay a bigger crew until we get a bigger job, and we can’t get a bigger job until we’ve got a bigger crew.”
“Not necessarily,” Ian says, leaning over the table toward me. “Maybe it’s like one of those ‘if you build it, they will come,’ things. We place a bid on a bigger project and when we get it, we can hire on a few more hands.”
“It’s a risk, though,” I tell him. “I’ve done that sort of thing before, but if we’re talking about jobs the size of what Lou’s doing, that’s going to be a lot of guys who are either new to the business or new to us. Either way, it’s going to slow us way down and if we take too long on a job like that, word’s going to spread that we can’t get shit done. Even if we finish up strong, that’s going to put us in a bad position when it comes to the next job.”
“We’ve got to do something,” Ian says. “We’re already down to family members, and I think we both know that’s a pretty fucked position to be in.”
“I know,” I tell him. “Let me think about it.”
He shrugs and leans back.
José comes back to the table with a look of disappointment.
“What happened?” I ask.
“He got someone else,” José answers. “He said that he could do it for cheaper if he used a couple of guys from his neighborhood.”
We just lost out on a micro job for a family member of one of my crew.
I think it’s safe to say that we’re fucked.
“Ian, tell José what you just told me,” I say.
“I was just telling the boss,” Ian says, “that if we were to take on a bigger job, we could bid low enough to get it and just hire a bigger crew.”
“We’d have to find a way to manage a lot of people that we’ve never worked with before, though,” José says. “We get a crew that’s even triple the size of what we’ve got now, and we’re going to end up spending all our time making sure they’re doing everything right. It’ll slow us down. We’ve got to do it more gradually.”
“We’re out of options,” Ian retorts. “As far as I can see it, we either go all in on something big—and do it right quick—or we’re gonna be standing in the unemployment line this time next week.”
“What if we start over?” I ask.
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Ian says. “If we don’t do this thing right, we’re going to end up back at square one.”
“No, we’re already there,” I tell him. “Now that Joe’s gone—”
“Marcus,” Ian corrects.
“Damn, I’ve really got to get better at remembering names,” I laugh. Leaning forward, I ask, “Who do we have right now? We’ve got the three of us and Alec. We’ve all been doing this for a long time, and we all know how we like to get a job done. We can move forward with a project even if I’m not there. What if we start a different kind of company?”
“What do you mean?” José asks.
“José,” I start. “You know just as much—all right, probably more—about this business than I do. You’re great when it comes to hands-on work, but you’re also a hell of a leader and you can always get the guys motivated. Ian,” I go on, turning to my only other employee at the table, “we mostly use you for carpentry and general construction, but you’ve got a background in electrical work, too.”
“Yeah?” Ian asks. “So?”
“So,” I continue, “Alec is—okay, Alec’s kind of worthless when it comes to doing any actual work, but he’s great at schmoozing clients. Do you remember that remodel last year when he got the client to give us each a 10,000 dollar bonus?” I ask.
“Good times,” Ian says wistfully. “But what does that have to do with where we are now?”
“Don’t you get it?” I ask. “We need to stop looking at ourselves as just guys on a crew and start looking at what we can all bring to the table. Why don’t we hire a whole new crew, but instead of trying to direct things worker to worker with only me and sometimes José taking the role of foreman, what if we all oversee a particular part of the job and let the new guys focus on doing the work. That way, we’re out of each other’s way. We can still make sure they’re doing things our way, but as foreman to worker.”
“How is that different from what I was telling you?” Ian asks.
“The difference between a crew and a company is the quality of the leadership. I’ve done the best I can, but it’s not enough for me to be the only guy. I’m saying that if we break this thing up into four divisions—okay, three. I really don’t want Alec doing more than sweet-talking his way into jobs for us. But three divisions. I hang onto the business end of things: purchasing, payroll, all that stuff. José, you would be foreman over the carpenters and general construction. Ian, you could head up electricians and maybe bring in a couple of guys to take care of plumbing work.”
“Where’s the money coming from?” José asks. “We would have to land something big and I don’t know if Ian and I have the experience to head up whole divisions of the labor.”
“You do, though,” I tell him. “When either of you speak, the whole crew listens. You know what you’re talking about and you know how to help get the best out of everyone around you. Maybe it’s harder to see from where you are most of the time because we’ve been holding onto such a small crew for so long, but I know I can see it.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Ian exclaims, pounding his fist on the table.
The one downside about Ian is that any idea that even subtly resembles anything he’s ever said is, in his mind, his idea.
“What do you think?” I ask.
Ian’s already on board, and I have no doubt it’s not going to be long before he’s lobbying to have his name included in the company banner. José doesn’
t seem so convinced.
“How many guys are you talking about taking on?” José asks.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “It would vary a bit depending on the size of the first job like this, but I don’t think it’s unrealistic to have, say, 20, 30 guys by the end of the month.”
José smiles, but I don’t think it’s a sign of agreement.
“We’ve been running a four-man crew,” he says. “Five when we can keep someone new on long enough. Do you really think we can change everything about the way we work in a single job?”
“Let me ask you this,” I start, “José: if I wasn’t there to do it myself, how confident would you be that you could run the crew, get the work done well, and make a solid name for the company?”
José looks away.
While Ian makes no bones about his ambitions, José’s always been more modest. Even with that, though, he knows he could take the whole company if it came to that.
José nods.
“That’s why you’re my number two, and that’s why I can feel confident leaving you guys to do your thing when something comes up on the business side that I have to take care of. All we’d be doing is focusing all of our energies in the areas where we have the most know-how and the most experience. I think, if anything, that can only make us better and make the guys working under us better as a result. What do you say?” I ask. “Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t. From where I’m sitting, though, I think it’s our best shot.”
“I’m in, boss,” Ian says. He puts his hand over the middle of the table like we’re in one of those kid’s sports movies that are so depressing.
I close my eyes and shake my head at him, and his hand retreats.
“José?” I ask.
He still doesn’t look quite convinced.
When we’re working, he’s the most confident man on the planet. He knows what he’s doing and he knows how to get the best out of everyone that’s around him.
Outside that context, though—I don’t know if it’s because I’ve kept him at number two in such a small crew for so long or what—he’s a lot less self-assured.
“One thing I do know,” I tell him, “is that if this thing has any chance of working, we’re not going to be able to do it without you.”
