“You’re comparing me to takeout?” A little wrinkle appeared between his brows.
“Definitely not. You’re the pizza in this metaphor.”
A blink. “Okay.”
“Gourmet, thin crust. We’re talking top quality here.”
He nodded. “I can live with that.”
“Anyway. You coming in or not?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, maneuvering past me into the room. “We heading to the airport today or what?”
“Meh.” I shut the door, putting my cell on the table, and turned to check out the view across the lake. Blue shimmering water and a pristine clear sky. This crazy insane urge inside of me, wanting to know what would happen next. What if I stayed and … just what-if in general. Screw it. I let my mouth do what it would. “But the weather’s so nice.”
“Yeah,” he said carefully. “It is.”
The tension in the room, I could have cut it and served it as cake. Shitty cake, but just the same. My hands twisted at my sides. “Seems a pity to waste it sitting in an airport lounge just waiting around.”
A small hopeful smile curved his lips. “That would suck.”
“And what’s another day or so, right?”
He shrugged. “Fine with me.”
My phone started ringing. “Just let me grab a quick shower.”
“Not going to take that call?” Joe made himself at home in the comfy chair, crossing his legs with his ankle resting on one knee, the way guys did.
“It’s Valerie calling to try and deep-and-meaningful me some more. I’m just not up to it right now.”
“Ah.” He eyed the buzzing phone warily while I gathered a clean set of clothes.
“Feel free to answer it if you like,” I joked.
The man did not laugh.
Today’s options were jeans or tights and a skirt. I had good legs. A big butt, but good legs. Black tights and a matching skirt, done. A somewhat fancy red bohemian blouse with cool embroidery for the top half. Sometimes a girl just wants to dress up a little. Feel pretty. No biggie.
“Won’t be long.” I headed for the bathroom.
He pulled out his phone and relaxed back in the chair, just hanging. “No worries. Take your time.”
*
Tools sat in the first large storeroom that was one of the studio apartment options. It sat above an empty shop, on the other end of the building from the Dive Bar. If Joe did wind up living there, he could just about make as much noise as he wanted.
A partition sat in the middle of the room, turning it into two offices, maybe. The little bathroom was a mold-and spider-infested ruin.
“Galley kitchen would work well,” mumbled Andre. He, Joe, and Pat were gathered around my laptop, looking over the designs.
“Definitely conserve space.” Joe pulled a rubber band out of his jeans pocket and proceeded to pull his hair back and put it into a ponytail. “I think the walk-in shower’s a good idea too. Keep things nice and streamlined. Minimum fuss. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Okay,” said Andre.
Pat seemed less scary today. Just sad. Contained, I guess. He didn’t say or smile much. From the brief chat I’d had with Nell, and the mega-fast walk through of her kitchen the night before, I couldn’t imagine the two of them together. She came across as so bright and bubbly.
I moseyed on over to the collection of tools, just checking things out. A battered red toolbox sat open, displaying a wide array of goods. Atop a notebook sat a laser meter and measuring tape. A rubber-headed mallet and a saw. Ooh, a sledgehammer.
The men folk were still busy, discussing the designs … what the hell?
Quiet as I could, I picked up the sledgehammer. Gave the heavy bastard a swing or two back and forth. Wonder what it would be like to send it slamming into something. To crash it into a sheet of plasterboard.
“Alex,” said Joe, startling me.
“Yeah?” All swinging of large manly tools ceased immediately. I felt like a little kid getting caught stealing candy. “Hi.”
For a moment he said nothing, just looked at me in the quiet, mindful way he had. Then he nodded toward the partition.
“What?” I asked, eyeing the object of his attention.
“Hit it.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
“It needs to come down,” he said. “You wanted to do some of the work, right? Learn some stuff?”
“Yes.”
He wandered over to the bit of wall in question, knocked on it twice. “It’s not a load bearer or anything like that. No wires in there. Go for it.”
Without further ado, he handed me some safety glasses. I donned them, looking beyond cool, no doubt. Then I lifted the heavy sledgehammer, giving him a small, unsure smile. The kind of smile you give a man when you think he’s serious but you’re not a hundred percent sure. Given life experience, etc., he might just be mocking me.
Andre shook his head and smiled. “Leave her alone, man. She’s looking gorgeous today. If she starts in on that she’ll get covered in plaster dust and shit.”
Interesting. Pat stayed silent.
Joe, on the other hand, gave Andre a hard glance before turning back to me. “Alex.”
“Joe?”
He licked his lips. Something low in my belly liked that. The aesthetics of his lovely mouth framed by the golden beard. Maybe I was going a little loopy. Loopier. Or maybe my tastes were undergoing a serious shift.
“Make that wall your bitch,” he said, eyes intense. Challenging.
I nodded, hefted the sledgehammer back out to the side, and then let loose. It was a pathetic hit. Sheetrock cracked but that was about it. More swing, more oomph was required. Much, much more. Again, with both hands wrapped tightly around the hilt, I drew back and then swung. Putting my weight behind it this time. Going in hard.
Crash!
The first layer of the wall cracked right open along with the second, a couple of inches in. I even managed to splinter an old length of wood running through the middle. Dust and dirt filled the air. Doubtless it had rained down on my hair, was covering my clothing. Who gave a fuck? The feeling of strength, the shock of destruction. I was hooked. Already my arms were starting to feel the burn from the unexpected workout. But it was all good.
Again, I drew back then rammed the sledgehammer into the wall. Crash boom bang. Holy balls. The big-ass hole, all of the wreckage and mess, I’d done that. Me.
I grinned at Joe and he grinned back, watching the proceedings with his thick arms crossed. Poor Andre shook his head while Pat gave me a half smile.
Back to wall breaking I went.
Bam. That’s for the people who made me feel small. The ones who overlooked and ignored me. The ones who never let me fit in.
Bash. This was for the ones who put gum in my hair and tripped me in the hallway. Who pushed me and hurt me physically.
Boom. An extra-special hit for those who’d tortured me with words. Because those words, all of those insults, they never left my head. Not even after all these years.