by Catori, Ava
"I understand," he said. "But you will have a go at saving it, won't you?"
"That I will." I meant it, but it would take nothing short of a miracle for me to make sure they wouldn't be closed at the end of summer. "Why don't you show me around and then we can order something to eat and talk about it over lunch."
"Fine, let me make a phone call and I'll be right with you."
I stepped out of his office to give him privacy and waited for him by the door, counting the number of workers on the floor. There were about thirty. That's the number of families that would most likely be cursing my name soon.
Dylan Bishop came out and walked with me through the floor, explaining the work stations that were unmanned had to be abandoned because the parts to repair the machines no longer existed. They had long ago ran out of retired machines to cannibalize and there was no budget for new equipment.
We took the stairs to the first floor. The corporate offices had been unoccupied for a decade. A ghost town. I would need to clean one of the cubicles to set up my work station.
Slowly, we retraced our steps to his office and were standing by the door when he whispered, "Letting go half of the workers wouldn't be enough, right?"
I tensed, putting my hands on my hips and whispered back, "You're not being fair. I can't tell you anything right now. I need to look at your books first."
As he opened the door for me to walk in, I heard a voice call out, "Dad." Ryder came up, handing bags to his father. We looked at each other. My eyes remained on his face while he gave me a full body scan. Even though the expression of his handsome face didn't change, I knew he decided he would not be adding me as a possible candidate to the list of trophies.
It hurt more than it should’ve and that surprised me. We lived in two different universes now. I had climbed up in the world while he had stayed here. Why should I care that the heartthrob of Nowheresville dismissed me at first glance?
Ryder's father said something to him I didn't catch and the local playboy turned and left.
While clearing space on his desk to make room for the lunch bags, Mr. Bishop asked me, "How long will you be staying in town?"
"For as long as it takes." Taking a chair from the corner and bringing it next to the desk, I added, "I've planned to give it a couple of months, but this could take a lot longer." Or it could be all over in a single fortnight.
My answer seemed to reassure him a bit. "Do you need help finding accommodations?"
"No, thank you, I have a place to stay. However, it hasn't been lived in for a while and I will be looking for someone to help me fix a few things, if you have someone in mind, I would truly appreciate it."
"I have just the man for you," he said. "He's got hands of gold. If it's fixable, he'll find a way to make it work. Gimme your number and he'll call you tonight or tomorrow at the latest."
I wrote down my cell number on the back of one of my business cards and we had an amicable lunch during which he proceeded to tell me about most of the employees.
The man was smart, he realized it would be harder for me to give them the boot if they became more for me than names on a list.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dad called to tell me he'd found work for me, which was a welcome surprise. The extra money would help catch up on a few bills that had fallen behind. Even though I didn't mind working for my keep, when I heard who it was for, I scowled. I was less than thrilled, but when it came down to cash, it all spends the same.
I studied the number on the paper, trying to decide whether to call her tonight or in the morning. It was the lady from Dad's office I'd seen earlier. She was like a crocodile scavenging for her next meal. The very one who drove the BMW that almost took me off the road. I decided it was probably better to get it over with. I dialed her number and waited.
She didn't pick up, so I left a voice mail. “Hey, this is Ryder Bishop. My dad gave me your number. He said you need some work done. Give me a call back and we can discuss the project you had in mind.”
Barbara Johnson, the name wasn't familiar, but then again neither was her face when I saw her earlier. What was her story? Did she like going into towns and crushing people's hopes and dreams? Did it get her blood flowing to hold power in her hands? I could tell by Dad's posture that she was in control of whatever was going on. I'd have to put aside my feelings. Get in, get out, get paid, and be on my way.
When my phone rang, I knew who it was. I took a deep breath and forced the air out of my lungs. Don't jump to conclusions and keep the tone respectful. I needed the money. She had no idea how hard it was to restrain my sarcasm and frustration. Let's face it, her presence in this town alone hadn't started out well. I doubted she'd know I was the one she almost hit with her car.
"Ryder Bishop, here." I let her lead the conversation. Otherwise, I'd come off too aggressive. I didn't want her to give the work to somebody else. I couldn't pretend it didn't matter who she was, but by the look on my dad's face, I knew she meant bad news. Yet, if I said something, our business might be over before it even started.
"Hi, Ryder, this is Barbara Johnson. Your father gave me your number. I've got some odd jobs I'd like to have done while I'm in town. I happened to mention it to your father. When I told him I was looking for help he said you're the person I should talk to." She sounded business-like, no warmth in that personality. Maybe she softened up once she got to know someone, but this lady liked to be in control. No doubt she'd be difficult to work for, but money was money.
For a split second, I wondered what it would be like to smash through the brick walls she surrounded herself with. Had anyone grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilted her head back, and kissed her with a passion that made her knees weak? Had anyone thrown her over their knee and spanked her ass until she understood that letting go would change her world? She had plenty of ass to spank. I smiled at the thought of watching it jiggle. I'd pay to see her reaction to that. Would she demand to be let go or release her inner demons and enjoy herself for the first time in her life?
"I was hoping we could meet to discuss what I'd like done. I've got a few things I'd like to do, fix up an older home, and there's a lot of things I'd like to remove from the residence. I don't know if we should treat it as one large job or a couple of smaller jobs. I'd need to hear your thoughts and an estimate. I really have no clue what kind of time or materials would be involved. Would you be available to grab breakfast tomorrow, say around eight? There's a diner on the main drag, we could meet there." The lady talked fast, barely taking time to breathe. She knew what she wanted, just not how she wanted it done.
"Sure, I can meet you there." I kept my cool. No need to jump to conclusions. She might not like my price.
"Great, I'll see you then." No good-bye, no niceties, just quick and to the point. If all of our conversations went that well, I wouldn't complain. I had no interest in getting to know her any better.
The first thing I did was call my father to thank him for recommending me. I talked to him earlier, but I wanted to get his read on the lady. Should I push for a higher price? She obviously could afford it...or did he want me to cut her a break?
Kicking back with a beer, I turned on an old movie. Not much more going on tonight. I'd go out later in the week and catch some tail. Maybe head down to the casinos and try my luck with the cocktail waitresses. They were always a hoot, and could usually score a room at the casino cheap. For a night or two, I'd feel like a king, and there were no strings attached when you lived in another town.
I must have nodded off, because when I woke up the movie was over. I stood and stretched. My belly grumbled, ready for some food. I went to check the fridge. I didn't realize how sparse my pickings were lately. It was time to stock up. Now that I had more money coming in, it shouldn't be a problem.
Peanut butter spread across a stack of saltines was what I settled for. It hit the spot for the time being. A big steak would have been better, but lately, I'd been buying whatever was on sale. I pinched pennies,
and as long as I got enough protein, it all worked out. With prices soaring, my food budget didn't stretch as far as it used to.
I climbed into bed not long after filling my stomach and pulled the covers tight. A minute later, I was already kicking them off. It was too stuffy to bundle up. Nights were hit and miss, chilly one night, warm the next. Summer was on the way.
A picture I didn't expect rushed through my brain. Barbara's big ass naked and spread across my lap. With each spank, it shook and jiggled like jelly. What surprised me more was when my dick responded. Eh, it's all good if it meant I'd get a good night’s sleep. I stroked my cock a few times and ended with a grunt. I rolled over and fell asleep in no time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
On weekdays the diner was busy, well, busier than on weekends. Settling into one of the two empty booths at 7:30, I wanted to slap myself for being so nervous. I had no reason to fret. I could hold my own during boardroom meetings, for heaven’s sake! For me, interviews were a piece of cake. I could sit comfortably on any side of the fence. I was always doing just fine. So what was wrong with me? Ryder Bishop, that's what was wrong with me.
Had it been anyone else, I would have asked that person to come to my house after my office hours. It would have been a logical choice. What better place to talk about a job than the job site? But no, I needed some sort of neutral ground for a first meeting. I tried to convince myself it was a rational choice because I wanted a few more days before the Bishops figured out who I was.
Dylan Bishop was scared of Barbara Johnson. Ms. Johnson was a strong woman who meant business. Chances were he would pose more resistance to the orders given by Bobby-Jean. No one cared what Bobby-Jean said, she had been a victim, the smart but fat and ugly illegitimate child of an employee with a serious drinking problem.
But that wasn't the only motivation for choosing the diner.
The real reason I hadn't directly invited Ryder into my home was that I was a coward. What was I afraid of exactly? I wasn't sure. If I applied logic, two things could happen. Either Ryder could continue to ignore me as he had when we were teenagers, or he could hit on me because in this town the pickings were slim and I would become another notch on his bedpost. One quick fuck to be dumped the next day. In both cases, it would hurt.
My gloomy train of thought was derailed by Joanne.
"Morning, the usual?" I looked up to her and frowned. She rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, white egg omelette and chocolate shake?"
I laughed. "I'm impressed you remember my order." She shrugged away the compliment on her memory. "Yes, for the eggs, not for the shake." I wrinkled my nose while saying the last word. "I'll have a Diet Coke instead, please."
She smiled at me and bent over to say with a low, conspiratorial tone, "Can't say I blame you. It used to be delish' but now we're using a cheap syrup..." Standing straight again, she winked at me and continued with a louder voice, "Coming right up."
Joanne marched to the kitchen, hollered my order and returned to clean a booth. She stopped to flirt shamelessly with a boy who couldn't be a day over twenty. He was kinda cute, but come on, she was my age. She was robbing the cradle. The young man beamed. Joanne whispered something in his ear and his face lit up. I scolded myself. Joanne had made his day, and for all I knew, she was being nice. While she was doing something to boost his confidence, I was being a judgmental bigot.
I needed to loosen up.
Right, as if I knew how to do that!
Specially with Ryder walking in. The various reactions to his presence confirmed another thing hadn't changed. He was still local royalty. People waved or called out his name and he waved and answered back. Joanne stood a bit straighter. She pulled her shoulders back pushing her chest outward. A regular bird of paradise mating dance!
Ryder barely acknowledged her. He nodded and her smile died on her lips. She had it bad. His gaze finally reached my booth and he nodded again before making his way to me. Before I had a chance to stand and offer my hand to shake, he was sitting across the table from me.
"I'm Ryder," he said, "Ryder Bishop."
My turn to nod. I wanted to say something but couldn't figure out what. My mind which usually looked like the blackboard of a mad professor was suddenly blank. I took a big breath hoping it would bring oxygen back to my brain. It did.
"Thank you for making yourself available on such short notice."
The corner of his lips twitched. The shadow of a smile he didn't want to give me. "No problem."
Looking away from me he waved at Joanne who almost magically transported herself from the other side of the room to our table.
"Coffee, black."
He gratified her with a dazzling smile; the poor girl was almost swooning as she walked away.
Looking serious again, he said, "So what is it you need? My old man wasn't very clear on why you wanted a handyman."
"I don't know yet how long I'm going to be here but I want to fix up some stuff." I paused trying to figure out what I should start with, well, after clearing the place of its battered furniture.
Ryder raised an eyebrow and said, "You don't like the color of your rental?" His tone left no doubt how low his opinion of me was. As far as he was concerned, I was some sort of spoiled brat.
My answer came out before I thought it through, "I happen to own a place in this town." As soon as I said it I wanted to kick myself. Why did I need to give him an explanation?
"You do?" He frowned and pursed his lips. I imagined he was trying to figure out when someone had managed to sell a house without his knowing about it. In a small town like ours, everyone was always looking over everyone's shoulder trying to get information about stuff like that.
I was so mad for overreacting but I couldn't help myself. The man pressed all my buttons. "What is it to you anyway if I own or rent? If you're not interested in the job, just say so."
He raised one hand. "Sorry, you're absolutely right. I was not thinking. Let me play it straight with you. I'm here because I need the work, but if I had a choice, I wouldn't even be talking to you."
Pulling up my best poker face, the one I had perfected negotiating with union leaders, I asked, "And why is that?"
"Because you represent everything I dislike about corporate America. You don't know the first thing about Ocean Crest nor give a shit about the people who worked all their lives for DCD and will now be thrown aside because--because--" he stopped abruptly and shook his head.
"But you need the job, so you'll take it?" I said.
He shook his head. "Hell yes, I've got bills to pay and your money's just as green as the next guy’s."
I bit my tongue not to lash at him again while Joanne bought our order. What had come over me? One of my strong suits was resisting pressure. Nothing ever phased me. Nothing. That was one of the fringe benefits of being raised by a crazy and temperamental parent. Since early childhood, I'd known better than to ever trust a blue sky. Clouds could gather in an instant and lightning strike without warning.
Ryder stared into his coffee mug while I thanked Joanne. I dug into my food and chewed, but it might as well been cardboard. I washed it down with the soda and looked up to Ryder who was observing me eat.
"Do you have a truck?" He nodded. "I think the first thing to do would be to clear out the place. There's some old stuff that's good for the dumpster."
He tilted his head making a strange face, but remained silent. I was ready to bet he still thought of me as a spoiled brat. It shouldn't bothered me, but it did. So much so, I felt the need to explain. "I'm talking about bedding that's more than twenty years old which was cheap to begin with and some broken pieces of furniture."
"When do you want this done?"
"As soon as possible."
"Tonight? After six?"
"Fine. I'll text you the address later today. Once the place is clear, I'll have a better idea of what I want done, but at least there's going to be some painting."
I asked his hourly rate. Compared to the prices o
f Manhattan what he asked for was quite reasonable so I didn't even try to negotiate. Once that was settled, I picked up the check and left for the factory wondering how this man managed to infuriate me even when he remained silent.
CHAPTER NINE
I woke early out of habit, and was more than ready for breakfast. I cleaned up around the house until it was time to leave. I revved my bike and headed for the diner. She was already there, waiting for me. I nodded, said hello, and then sat across from her. I couldn't help wondering who she was. I'd heard her name, but still couldn't place it. Not quite déjà vu, but I felt like I'd seen her before.
She rambled on about things she wanted done. She wanted furniture moved, a couple of rooms painted, and some other quick fixes. It felt off base. Who fixed up a rental? She claimed to own something when I opened my mouth, but I didn't remember anything selling around here recently. Usually homes were just abandoned in these parts. When people were ready to move on to bigger and better, there wasn't much to gain from a house that wouldn't sell.
My mind stirred, not wanting to pay attention. I forced myself to focus, but instead of hearing her words, I had the image from last night stuck in my brain. It was like an old movie playing over and over. It surprised me more than anything. I'm not into big chicks. Nonetheless, I smiled as I thought about her ass cheeks jiggling.
She smiled back at me, unaware that my thoughts were less than pure. I cleared my head the best I was able and zoned back into the one-sided conversation. I drank from the white ceramic coffee mug as she filled me in on the last details. The aroma filled my nostrils. I was happy for the work, whatever it was.
I noted her posture. Her shoulders were stiff like she constantly carried tension, and her jaw tense. She clung tightly to her sense of control, even if it was an illusion. Even the information she gave me, she doled out in drips at a time.
"I'll send you my address later," she said.
