by Bella Knight
They watched stupid movies and television shows on Netflix, halting to sleep, make love, or, once, to slide into a hot bath together. No one called, came by, or rang the doorbell, except the pizza guy, and the Chinese delivery later on. They ordered enough Chinese food for ten people, and ate it all day long the next day. They read stupid books, and touched each other everywhere. For once the nightmares were silent, choosing to bide their time and attack later. They put the hell of the mass shooting out of their minds, and spent two languid days in each other's arms.
On Monday morning, they left before dawn, and after a very early McDonald's run for breakfast sandwiches. It was then that they crunched over the snow in their county SUVs to their respective offices. Both of them hit their in-boxes, fueled on cola. As soon as another officer showed up, Xenia went out on the highway, a pile of paperwork in her briefcase, and Bob, worked phones and got the mess on his desk under control.
Xenia set up a speed trap, and nailed a few commuters going so far over the limit even they admitted they deserved their tickets. She also got a lot done, filling out boxes of forms, signing things, and creating a stack of “Things to Read Later,” like her law enforcement magazines. She actually had a file of reading material in her car; a second briefcase. The stack of new reading material went in there. Once she got her quota --in the first hour, no less, she circled back to drop off the finished paperwork. After that, she went to grab another Monday-morning stack from her inbox, and to grab two cans of caffeine-free Coke from the tiny refrigerator in the office.
On the way back out of town, Bob stopped by Tina's house. The little black dog with dusty, matted fur, was now clean. He’d been watered, loved, and was attacking a green stuffed toy, throwing it with his head, and chasing after it.
Tina laughed. "I show houses with him in my arms. I swear, I sold two houses because of Rascal here."
"Good name," said Bob. She petted the dog, and headed out.
Undine Taylor was going through her house, with boxes in the back of her ancient blue pickup truck ready in case she found something.
"Where you staying?" asked Bob.
"The rental house Jim and Sarissa have," said Undine. She maneuvered her big bulk past a burned piece of charred wood. "Small for me, but I've been on myself for years to lose weight. Gonna happen now, I expect." She sighed. "Not a damn bit of yarn. The yarn was stored in them divided wooden boxes. Went up into smoke." She sighed again.
"Friends in Vegas got themselves a bunny farm. Angora rabbits."
"Yeah?" said Undine.
"They sell to a farm where they raise goats and alpacas. Work with that hair, too. Make sweaters. Got two more alpacas, and built a bunny hutch. Want to raise angora rabbits too. And, they have a long winter. Make goat cheese, and build straps for boxes that go on the back of Harleys for dogs, to keep them safe."
Undine smiled. "Sounds awesome."
"They live on the res outside Vegas," he said. "You're half Paiute, so you could maybe help them out for a while, ‘till you get on your feet."
"Well," said Undine, "I got nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do. I thought I would do some rag weaving, buy myself the ugliest fricking clothes at Goodwill, cut them up, make rugs and stuff."
"Be a good side business," said Xenia. "But you gotta lose the weight, not let your diabetes kill you. Doctor visits ate up the money for the homeowner's insurance, didn't it?"
"Don't belabor the point, Sheriff. I caused my own damn problems, and yeah, I'll get healthy. No choice now. Credit card is nearly maxed out; spent the money on new yarn. Lovely stuff." Her huge blue eyes were filled with tears.
"Go," said Xenia, handing over a slip of paper. "They'll be expecting you. Sell this land."
"For next to nothing," said Undine. "Sorry, whining. Should be glad I'm alive. Space heater done took out my house, and my life's work. Priceless rugs in there," she said. "From my mama. Should have sold them. Then, they would still be in the world."
Xenia hugged Undine. "Let's check this out while it's still daylight. Need help?"
"Would you?" asked Undine. Xenia grabbed her flashlight, and they found some rugs that had fallen under a wall, making Undine cry with joy. "My mama's rugs," said Undine. "Two out of five, but that's good."
"Excellent," said Xenia. They put what little they found in the boxes, and Xenia handed out wet wipes. "Let's clean up, and I'll follow you to Emma's." Emma's was a little soup, salad, snack, and sandwich place along the highway.
"Let's do it," said Undine. Xenia paid for their meals, and they ate clam chowder and rolls with butter, and Caesar salad, and tiny cucumber sandwiches. Xenia hugged the woman, and sent her on her way.
Expansion
Tito thought he was going to die. Yes, he desperately needed to keep all his people busy; regular workers, day laborers, and the Wolfpack, who were somewhere in between. Some of the "graduated" Wolfpack became his, permanently, but they were all going to school, so they were part-timers at best. Great on weekends when he needed nearly-slave labor to transform the condos, townhomes, apartment buildings, duplexes, and houses into salable or rentable properties. Properties needed to be examined, bought, re-conditioned, and either sold or rented as soon as possible, something a tad difficult in Vegas' soft market. He had the capacity to make profits of fifty thousand dollars or more, but he couldn't fail and lose fifty thousand, either. So, he was careful. His joining the Nighthawks had been an enormous boom, and why he was able to be his own small real estate magnate. He got work from the Nighthawks, Valkyries, and the Iron Knights, especially at slow times of the year, so he built up a sizable investment egg for the properties. This was completely separate from the funds he needed for his kids' education; they were all fully funded. His partner, Bruiser, also called Nico, the tiny guy who never got in fights except to protect abused people, ran his own arm of the "turn and burn" business. That’s what they liked to call it. They rehabbed and sold or rented a lot in the winter, because they had time to do projects right, except in high winds or the once-a-year Vegas rain. During that time, it made water run twelve feet deep in some of the washes.
But now, the Goat Girls wanted an apartment over their little goat and alpaca barn for a new hire. Henry wanted to add onto the sorting center to get two more apartments. They had three nurses with the Owl Pack now, and even the “Great House,” as Inola called it, needed expanding. The Owl Pack also wanted to hire a company to install a pool made out of a dumpster or a shipping crate, and enclose it in glass, making another greenhouse. Yeah, he could do it all. And, keep up with his turn-and-burn business, and keep everyone employed. But, he needed a damn clone. Bruiser needed one, too. He needed a project manager, or two. Or three, in the summer. Or a coordinator.
He called UNLV, and talked to their Career Counseling Department. "Well, we can post it," said one very eager guy named Eric. "Or, I can have you speak to Missy. Her dad's in construction, and she's only one class away from her master's in business administration. I know she took project management."
"Doesn't her dad want her in his business?"
The ever-positive Eric laughed. "They get along like oil and fire. Boom! He's a raving control freak, and she's very independent. He hates that about her."
"How do you know all this?" asked Tito.
"We're fuck buddies," said Eric.
"Too much information," said Tito.
Eric laughed. "She'll tell you the same thing."
"Sounds like a Valkyrie," said Tito.
"That motorcycle thing she goes to? Yeah. She loves that Harley of hers!"
"Tell her to come by the office," said Tito. "We may have something she'll like doing."
Rota came up with a young woman. She was blessed with gorgeous blonde hair in the complicated braids on one side of her head. The kind that the Valkyries liked, the other hanging razor-straight. She had suntanned skin, and a rosy, bright complexion. Her eyes were a sea green, and she had a smile that could stop traffic.
"Why didn't you te
ll me you needed someone?" demanded Rota, affronted.
"I didn't know you knew someone," said Tito, opening his hands in surrender. "Missy?"
"Eir to us," said Rota. "Tito, she's been on construction sites until she was old enough to pick up nails. Tamber Construction."
No wonder TMI Eric said her dad's a dick, thought Tito. "Good outfit," he said.
Eir snorted. "He works too fast. Good work takes time. Pads the estimated time twenty percent; not thirty percent, then rushes at the end to make it up. Shoddy work in some parts."
Couldn't agree more, thought Tito. "We pad around thirty-two percent. Way too many projects. Need super-careful scheduling to make it all work out exactly right. Have quality people here, and lots of willing hands. We keep busy year ‘round, main and side projects."
"Turn and burn?" asked Eir.
"Rentals too," said Tito.
"Gonna need someone to manage that arm of it. Got a sister named Reece. She's in real estate. Not one of us Valkyries, but she's trustworthy. Runs her own real estate business. Rentals can keep her in the black."
Tito said, "Give me her number." Eir gave him the digits. "Your desk is there, two computers; a laptop and a desktop. Two phones, one cell, one landline."
"Get a fucking receptionist," said Eir. "Don't need to be on the property. Can even have someone in India do it for all I care. But someone has to screen out the yahoos. Too damn busy for anything else."
"Hire someone," said Tito.
"On it," said Eir. She walked over to the desk, and opened both computers. She saw the contract, and read it. Rota went over and looked over her shoulder. "Classes Tuesday and Thursday mornings," said Eir. "Only a fifteen-minute drive, so I'll be here by nine thirty those days."
"Eight o'clock class?" asked Tito.
"One seven, one eight," said Eir. "Once I get this place caught up, I reserve the right to do my schoolwork on company time, provided I have no other tasks that need doing."
"Done," said Tito. "You're graduating in a few months, anyway, Eric said."
"Strange guy," said Eir. "But fun."
"Good to know," said Tito. Eir typed and printed an addendum, and they both signed the contract.
Bruiser came in. "We signing stuff?" he asked.
"Our new project manager," said Tito. "Eir. She's a Valkyrie."
"Hot damn," said Bruiser. "Where do I sign?"
It took her less than a day to get some things under control. She set up timelines for each project, and began lining up who would do what from the database of people Tito and Bruiser had so painstakingly built. It included name, number, skill sets, and hire or seasonal. She soon had the sites humming. Projects got completed on time and under budget. For once, Tito didn't feel like he had to be in six places at once.
By the end of the next week, Tanvi, their virtual assistant, answered their main lines in her cultured British accent, and got everything right with only a few bobbles. Her own mother ran a construction company in India, so she knew the lingo. Tanvi loved working at night because she could sleep when her daughter was at school, and her while her husband was at work, in a local hospital.
The whole lined-shipping-crate pool installation went spectacularly well. Both Bruiser and Tito were able to be there. The container had been lined, sealed, and part of the side replaced with glass. Then, the backhoe dug a relatively shallow pit, so the container would be half in, half out. They poured a ramp, and installed a gate and a railing all the way around. The "under deck" had tables and chairs. Then, they enclosed the whole thing with an enclosed patio kit, and added it right to the outside door on the previous greenhouse room. Tito made sure a heater was installed to keep the water at a perfect temperature, in addition to the filtration system. It was a huge hit, and became a favorite place to be, especially at the end of a long day. The Owl Pack used it during the day, "To keep out the riff-raff," they said.
A week later, Henry called Tito. "Got a problem with the pool," he said.
"What's up?" asked Tito. His heart sank. "Did they spring a leak?"
"Opposite problem. Thing's in huge demand. Now, the Wolfpack howlers are demanding their own, and the Owl Pack people want a spa."
"Is there money for that?" asked Tito.
"Unspecified donor," said Henry.
Who the fuck is their donor? wondered Tito. "You got the money, we can build stuff," said Tito.
The stuff for Henry he got done by the end of the month. They had to remove a glass panel from the greenhouse to get the spa in edgewise, then install it, and build another ramp with railings. They couldn't dig another hole easily.
The other pool, behind the Wolfpack dorm, was aboveground too, and was accessed by a door and ramp on the second floor, much to their delight. He took pictures, and got calls from all over Southern Nevada for identical installations.
He was afraid to advertise as a specialist in these types of installations. He wasn't a pool guy or a landscaper. His company did primarily rehabs, not builds, which kept them busy, even in winter. But, installation was so damn easy, even easier if they wanted it above ground. He called the company that sold the lined containers, and their CEO was delighted to subcontract with Tito and Bruiser for installation, especially after he sent them stills and video of the entire install.
Tito had a new side business; he let Eir run with it. The next two installs went so easily and quickly that their cement guy asked to bring on his sister, and do a lot more work. They agreed, and the side business flourished, then doubled when the weather got warmer. They made Eir a partner when she brought in six new clients in one week; she was delighted. She even hired her own virtual assistant, Saumya, who became, as Eir put it, "her second brain." Between Eir and Saumya they caught most errors, conflicts, and snafus before they became major bombs going off in their clockwork schedules.
They made so much money that they were able to build a core pool installations arm run by Eir, an apartment, townhome, and condo rehab arm under Tito, and a house and duplex arm under Bruiser. Dividing it up made sense, and they could all concentrate on one part of the business only. It also meant all three of them could make it home on time, and have time for their rides with the Nighthawks or the Valkyries. They drummed up more business on the rides, purely by accident, by talking about their busy lives. Tito was stunned. He had finally found that balance he had promised his wife so many years ago, and had never achieved. He gave bonus after bonus to Eir, the virtual assistants, and everyone else at the company. They were doing great. He put his own money aside for reinvestment in new properties, and Reece kept haunting real estate auctions for them to buy the best properties at rock-bottom prices.
Tito made sure everyone rotated, taking time off. Burnout at this pace was not an option. He also had to be sure the Wolfpack and former Wolfpack members got their schooling in. To his delight, some of his guys started cross-training, as the Wolfpack did, in order to get more skills. Some even talked about getting certificates or even degrees. Things were looking up.
Alo sat quietly, waiting for Chandra Wallace, the federal prosecuting attorney, to attack him again. She had black skin, a halo of black twisty hair, and shiny caramel eyes that missed nothing. She was “brilliant,” if she did say so herself. But, her opponent, Bryson "Beemer" Shapiro, was known to be an attack dog, and a brilliant opponent. The fact that two police officers had made critical mistakes that night, and that one had turned out to be a homicidal maniac who almost took out Saber while shooting at Ace, gave him plenty of ammunition. Shaking Alo's story would go a long way to breaking the case, and letting two violent men free. Alo took a sip of water, and relaxed.
"That's it," said Chandra. "Keep that one look on your face, calm. Tell it calmly. Juries like moaning and crying, but not you."
"Okay," said Alo. "I can do that."
"I'm me again, so let's do this. What happened after you left work?"
"Tito, our boss, dropped us off by an ATM so we could make a deposit, and he went to the store around th
e corner to get some supplies for the party."
"What did you deposit?" asked Chandra.
"We have direct deposit for our paychecks, but we got a bonus for on time and under budget. It was a special check, so we deposited it."
"Did you withdraw any cash?"
"No," said Alo. "Had about twenty in my pocket; so did Ruby. We use our ATM card; easier to keep track of the money that way; harder to spend it on junk."
"Then what happened?"
"These two guys came at us, screaming about us being beaners and wetbacks, stealing jobs from other people. Not even loud whispering, but yelling it at us."
"Are you Mexican-American?" asked Chandra.
"Nope, full-blooded Paiute. That's a First Nation tribe with a reservation just outside Las Vegas."
"What about Ruby?"
"Half Paiute, half Hopi," said Alo.
"And did you steal anyone's job?"
"No, I don't think so. Tito started us on picking up nails, hammering stuff, learning how to measure twice and cut once, that sort of thing. He makes all of us do a stint with Habitat for Humanity for a couple weeks before he lets us onsite, except for cleanup. Then, if he likes our work, we get to rotate around, learning from everyone."
"Like an apprentice," said Chandra.
"Exactly. We got paid, and his regular workers got paid extra for teaching us." He snorted out a laugh. "Got so people fought over who got to train us, until Tito set them straight that he would rotate us through, and only pay the best workers to train us. That got them calmed down."
"So, not a real job. More like an apprenticeship."
"Absolutely, and part-time at that. We still had to pass our GEDs, apply for scholarships, and decide our major or certificate we wanted. And do chores on the farm where we lived."
