Costars (New York City Bad Boy Romance) (78 page)

“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 one 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 twenty
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 five hundred, 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 42
^nd
,”
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 ten thousand 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.”