by Kate Gilead
“Sure.” I think for a second. ‘In fact, I’ll take the rest of the week off, fuck it. But…Airbnb? Shit, Angel. What kind of accommodations you talking here?” I get us both a bottle of water and take a seat in the chair across from his.
“They’re all different, but mostly apartment-style. It’s temporary, Blake. It’ll do until I get something more permanent.” He’s sweating and looks wiped out now. Damn. He takes a handkerchief from a pocket and wipes his brow and neck, sighing.
“I wish I had somewhere decent to put you up. You can’t stay by yourself, you need help still.” He says nothing, doesn’t argue the point. Then, I hear what he actually said. “Wait, what? More permanent? You planning on staying?”
“Well…I been considering it.” He shrugs, smoothing his goatee. “I’ve had lots of time to think lately. Truth is, I’m tired of LA.”
“Is that right?” I’m surprised. I never thought I’d hear Angel saying such a thing.
“Yeah. I…I’m tired of… green Christmases, y’know? I’m tired of the same season year round. And how expensive it is! Did you know, if we both sell our houses out there, we could practically buy a goddamn subdivision in this town?”
“Yeah, no kidding. It’s brutal out there.”
“That’s not all. I’m real tired of all the flakes and the shallow, fucked-up people. For all their political-correctness and virtue-signalling, you can never trust ’em. They’re so full of shit.” He drinks some water. “And… maybe it’s not too late for me in the, uh, romance department. Maybe I could meet someone…special…out here. Someone real; who isn’t made of botox and plastic. Eeee hee hee!”
His laughter isn’t quite so hearty this time.
“You met someone nice,” he continues. “Someone decent. Maybe I could, too. I know I’m old, but even an old fart might get lucky.”
His voice is wistful. I drink some of my water and think about what he’s saying. Of course he’s right, especially about the social scene in LA. Not everyone there is some kind of a human mannequin, of course, but…yeah. People just seem more authentic in the Midwest. And his roots are here too, even though his mother died and he never knew his father.
All of our family is here. My parents, plus some other cousins who are their age, plus some other relatives here and there. Older and younger, both.
“I don’t wanna stay in LA by myself. This…” he points at his head, “brain explosion I had? It made me feel….”
“Vulnerable?”
“Yeah.” He nods soberly. “You’re the only family I have out there.” We’re both silent for a moment. “So, I figured, if you’re staying anyway, you might as well go full-time with Delcroft, take as much money from them as you can. And you can sell your place, and…”
“Hold it. Delcroft is going south, Angel.” I explain what just happened at the office to him.
“You obviously haven’t told them about your stake in Angel Wing.”
“Nope.” I grin back at him. “No one has a clue. They probably think I need their money.”
“Probably. Why else would they think you held out for a buck-twenty-five for six months? I mean, fuck, that’s a salary of a quarter million dollars a year. These idiots really do have more money than brains, don’t they?”
“Sure do. If it wasn’t such an easy score, I’d still be in LA. And if they weren’t already bleeding millions in fines, they’d never have made the offer. It’s a drop in the bucket for these dirty fuckers.” I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure they’re trying to get a racket going.”
“Racket? Is it what I think it is?”
“Yes, probably. They’re deliberately cutting corners. I’m positive now. Also, taking kickbacks from offshore manufacturers. Cheap equipment knockoffs keep showing up, on every site now. All that high-strength, forged stuff…you know how it is. Durable, American made, but expensive. If they can replace that with crap from Asia, for a penny on the dollar…? Yeah. Word is, some of the Delcroft family members have been approaching OSHA officials, trying to buy them off.”
“Shit. Sounds like a straight-up counterfeit goods operation.”
I’m nodding.
“Does the company do a lot of business in Asia?”
“Yep. Several of the family members make regular trips.”
“Well, they met some rats over there, by the sounds of it. Rats waving easy money around.” He snorts. “Not that I’m surprised, but, why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“Because I wasn’t sure. I thought, at first, it might be honest error, or pure incompetence. Almost anyone at Delcroft could order safety equipment before Jenny and I started. Foremen, crew guys, nobody was trained, nobody had a clue what they were doing. And Jenny….she’s new, and under a lot of pressure. She’s made some mistakes, naturally. And at first I thought, maybe she’d been ordering the wrong stuff by accident. But no. It was never her.”
“You should’ve told me. I could’ve helped you figure it out.”
“Yeah. I should’ve. But I didn’t want to bother you while you were still trying to recover.”
“Bah!” He hates being left out and hates being seen as weak. He changes the subject. “So they’re already trying to buy off the OSHA guys, huh? Even out here? Next, it’ll be the politicians.”
“Right, if they’re not working that angle already. Fucking gangsters. I don’t know if all the Delcrofts are involved, but the ones who are? They’re not nice people and this is not a nice family business. They sabotage what I’m trying to do all the time. And they’re trying to buy off safety people at other contractors in town.”
“Rot always spreads, doesn’t it? But if you been playing detective Blake, you better watch your back!”
“Nah. Just been talking to some guys on the down-low. Nick, the owner of a company called Bennett Contracting, for example. Small, but coming up. Could turn into a major player. He got a nice contract for the city, work just got started. Anyhow, he says he’s already found counterfeit hardware on his jobs. We’ve been trying to figure out what to do. It’s fucking unreal, Angel.”
“Does Jenny know?”
“No! What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She thinks the problems are accidental, the result of Delcroft’s disorganized, chaotic management. And some of them are! I feel bad for her, she tries so hard but she’s never going to actually make a difference in this job.”
“I hope none of this spills over on her. You ever thought they might try to make her a stooge?”
“Yes. The kind of money involved here makes people crazy. Dangerous, maybe. That’s why I want her out.”
“Shit. That reminds me. You hear about Bob, the safety guy at Boreacchi Construction?”
“No.”
“Three days ago. He fell off the roof of a building he was inspecting. No witnesses. Investigation in progress but it’ll likely be declared accidental. Funny, huh? Fall protection expert, years in the business, falls off a roof. Just as he was about to expose some of the rats in the industry.”
“Jesus Christ. Seriously?” I stare at him. Everyone knew Bob. It seems incredible that he’d have an accident like that.
Angel’s nodding. “That’s what happens when you have a multi-billion-dollar, global business. The sharks come out.”
“What a shame! This is getting scary, Angel. The stakes are too fucking high now.”
“I know! It’s not like when we first got into the business. It’s a whole different ballgame now, Blakey.”
“Yeah. Like I said, I’m gonna bail out of my contract as soon as I can. But, now, I might have a hard time convincing Jenny to come with me. Yesterday, she hated the job, hated the company, but today, she seems to have changed her mind. She dug in her heels when I said we should quit together.”
“She probably doesn’t like being told what to do, is all. How many times I gotta tell ya, women don’t like being told what to do.”
“I know, I know. I just want to look after her, make sure she’s safe. I don’t
care what you say, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Who says it’s wrong? It’s not wrong, you just gotta go about it in a certain way. Lead her, Blakey. Don’t push her. No one likes to be pushed.”
“If I think something bad is gonna happen to her, I’m not gonna stand around and watch.”
Angel gives me a long look. I wonder if he’s gonna lecture me about keeping her at arms length or doing too much for her, like he usually would.
Instead, he grins. “Is she the one?”
“Maybe. I think so.” I grin back.
He heaves a deep sigh. “Lucky bastard. I don’t suppose she’s got any older sisters?”
Wow! Having a stroke really has changed Angel’s tune.
“Nah,” I say. “It’s only her and her mom.”
Waving a hand at me, he mutters, “Just kidding,” and pulls out his phone. “Well, we better get moving. I gotta start looking at these accommodations if I’m gonna find a place to stay. I still have to call around and find a home worker.”
“Hey! I almost forgot! Elaine––that’s Jennifer’s mom––she’s a home care nurse herself.”
“Oh yeah?”
“She has a fully-equipped hospital room at her house, actually. Hospital bed, sling, all that stuff. She nursed her husband in the months before his death.”
“Huh.”
“It’s kind of funny, actually. I just met her last night and we talked about you.”
“Aw, Jesus, Blake! Why? I hope you didn’t make her feel sorry for me!’
“Sorry for you? She said “keep that crippled motherfucker away from me, whatever you do.” We both laugh. “No, we were just shooting the shit about you because of her line of work. She said she’s thinking of eventually renting that spare room out to a boarder. I mean, I don’t think she’s ready for that yet…but she said she could recommend a worker for you.”
“I want a male worker. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I don’t need your girlfriend’s mom trying to wipe my ass.”
“She wouldn’t touch your wrinkly old ass. Unlike yourself, the lady has some class.”
“Heh heh. Let’s go. I gotta check in at the Marriott downtown, then we can go look at a couple places.”
“Which reminds me. We’ll trade your room for a connecting suite at the hotel. I’m staying with you until we get a round-the-clock worker lined up.”
“Blake, I’ll be okay for a couple….”
“No fucking way. I’m staying with you and that’s that. Got it?”
“Okay! Jesus! Got it.”
We stand up and head for the door. Angel wobbles a bit but steadies himself quickly. “Can we call your girlfriend’s mom tomorrow? Look, I know I still need help. But tonight? I just wanna relax. I haven’t been out since this shit happened. I need to…feel like a human again. I wanna hit a sports bar and test out my pool game. I bet it’s still better than yours.” He squints at me in mock-challenge. “You t’ink you up for dat, muchacho?”
“Pffft, you the one ain’t up for it, Gramps,” I say.
Then, I wince when the playful punch he throws at my arm connects with a solid thud.
I give him an admiring nod as I rub my arm.
“Eeeee hee hee,” he laughs. “I told ya, I’m coming back. I’m a Cameron, same as you. And we ain’t the kind to stay down.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jenny
I get a text from Blake a couple hours after he runs out of the office.
Blake: You got a minute? Need to talk.
Me: I want to talk to you too, but I’m really busy. Can I call you when I’m free?
Pause while he types.
Blake: I might be driving by then. It’s okay, I just wanna let you know, I’ll be busy with my cousin for a couple days.
Me: No problem. Hope he’s well?
Blake: He’s still wobbly but better, thanks. Tell you about it later. I’m taking the rest of the week off work, staying at his hotel with him for a few nights. But I was hoping maybe we can get together Saturday? Wanna take you out, treat you right.
I think about it for a second, smiling.
Me: Sounds good.
Blake: Okay sweetheart. Touch base with you soon.
The more I think about it, the more I like it. I already know I’ll be taking work home tonight and tomorrow, but I’m determined to get it done so I can take the weekend off.
I intend to be done with work and totally free by Friday night’s dinner with the girls at Brenda’s.
And a date with Blake on Saturday will be a great way to cap off the weekend.
I can’t wait.
That night at home, I only have time for a quick bite with Mom before going up to my room with an armload of work to get done.
We chat about how our work day went, and I mention that Blake’s cousin showed up out of the blue. She’s surprised to hear that.
“From what Blake said, he’s still too weak to be travelling by himself. I hope he’s not one of those stubborn guys who never follows doctor’s orders.”
“I dunno, Mom. Blake said he’d call you if he needs a home care worker. Hope you know someone who’s good with stubborn patients.”
“We’re all good. That’s what we’re trained for.” She smiles.
I’m happy to see that she still seems to be in a good mood.
Much later, when Blake calls, I reach for the phone but hesitate, thinking about Mom’s advice to refrain from making myself too available. Plus, I really am up to my eyeballs with work. My heart gives a little pang but I don’t answer it. When he texts me five minutes later, he’s saying goodnight.
I let a few minutes go by, then I apologize for missing his call, explain that I was busy and say goodnight.
The next day, Thursday, is busy and tough, but the newfound ease I feel with the demands of my job holds true, and I’m able to deal with complex situations without wanting to cry or kick something.
That afternoon, the garage calls. My car is ready to be picked up, good as new. The problem was just a worn valve that needed to be replaced, a cheap and easy repair. Thank God! After work, Flora drops me off at the garage. I pick up my car and I’m back on the road.
I’m glad that Blake was there to help me out, but also glad that it’s a cheap fix and that I could take care of it on my own. Maybe men have a need to do stuff for their women so they can be happy, but part of my need to be happy is always going to involve maintaining some level of independence.
Any man who wants to make me happy will just have to live with that.
When I get home, Mom’s out somewhere so I eat quickly and take my work up to my room.
Blake texts me around six thirty. He’s at a restaurant having dinner with his cousin, which means he can’t talk. But he wants to confirm our Saturday plans.
I don’t have time to talk either so I text him in shorthand that I’m working at home again. I tell him about girl’s night tomorrow night, say that I’m looking forward to our date Saturday, then I wish him a good night.
After a few minutes, he texts back: Nite, sweet girl.
Again, my heart pangs. But I push it aside and get on with my work.
But later, right before bed, he texts me again, asking if everything’s all right. I assure him that it is, keeping it light and short and signing off before he does.
I can’t tell him the truth, obviously. This Angel woman is a question mark in my mind and a thorn in my side. I mean, I feel better now that I’ve taken a more decisive stance about things, but I know in my heart that until Blake and I are official, I’m not going to feel one-hundred-percent comfortable.
I can’t think of anything else I can do about that. Maybe try dating someone else? As much as I don’t want to, I consider keeping my options open, just as he seems to be doing.
I’ll have to see how things go but in the meantime, I won’t rule that out.
Work-wise and home-wise, though? Things are still looking up. My comprehension of complex safety
regulations, plus planning and procedures for upcoming jobs is clicking along, and my confidence is growing with every hour, it seems.
Working at home in my newly organized room feels so much better, too. Taking work home still sucks, but it sucks a lot less in an orderly environment.
Staying calm, focused and determined, I’m able to get ahead in my work by leaps and bounds. The feeling of being in deep water, over my head, is fast fading away.
Things are finally coming together for me. I know a lot of it has to do with growing into my job.
But, oddly, some of it has to do with Blake too, and that has some poignant complexity all of its own.
Finding out that I have competition for his affection has been both harrowing yet, strangely steadying, and even, motivating.
It hurts but it also, somehow, made me find strength. Maybe it was just the last straw after a long, tough stretch of years.
In any case, now…? I refuse to stay sad. I refuse to feel lost and defeated.
When quitting time on Friday rolls around, I’m completely caught up with work and ready to party with my friends.
In the car on the way home from work on Friday now. Hordes of released workers streaming from downtown Columbus towards the suburbs create the usual tedious traffic crawl on the freeway. Along the way, Brenda’s text notification, the sound of dogs barking, goes off repeatedly. I can’t reply to her but I read them, grinning, as they come in.
Brenda: MESSAGE TO MUH GIRLS!!!
REMINDER: MY PLACE. TONIGHT. GET YOUR BUTTS HERE AS SOON AS YOU CAN.
Pause.
MANDATORY ATTIRE: SWEATPANTS AND T-SHIRTS. ANYONE WEARING ANYTHING FANCIER WILL BE MOCKED AND GIVEN THE HOSE.
Next,
REMEMBER BRING YOURSELVES ONLY!! I AM PROVIDING ALL FOOD AND BEVERAGES.
Another few minutes go by:
ROB HAS BEEN DUCT-TAPED AND STASHED IN THE SHED. NO. BOYS. ALLOWED!
Then,
BUT DOGS ARE WELCOME!
Then,
