Man at Work (2 page)

The shrill sound of the electric drill
hummed loudly in the air. Candace stopped drilling long enough to
stand back and admire her work.

“
Perfect. Now all I have
to do is mount these cabinets on the stainless steel brackets.” She
set the drill down on the faux marble kitchen counter and looked at
the building supplies cluttering the kitchen. She scratched her
head. “If only I could find where the heck I put the
brackets.”

“
Girl, you need serious
help,” her cousin Toye advised.

“
That’s what I thought I
brought you guys along for.”

Candace looked around at
her two sisters and her cousin. Her younger sister, Marlowe had her
butt perched on the kitchen island, her long legs dangling over the
beveled edge. Ronnie, her oldest sister, leaned against one of the
exposed sheetrock walls, her nose deep in the latest issue
of
some news magazine
. Toye, their cousin, was the only one who at least appeared
to be ready to work. Not that she would have been of much help with
those two-inch icicles on the ends of her fingers she called nails.
She could barely hold a pencil much less a drill.

“
You need a new
contractor,” Marlowe argued. “We don’t know what we’re
doing.”

“
I can do this,” Candace
said, refusing to acknowledge the difficulty of the task. “I saw it
on HGTV.”

Toye shook her head, causing her long, brown
springy curls to bounce as she moved. “Cuz, I think this time
you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.”

Candace swatted the air as
though killing a pesky mosquito. Whereas she had a positive outlook
on life, Toye viewed the world through a glass half empty. Her full
mouth was in a perpetual frown. With her smooth,
dark
skin, slender
frame, and mysterious blue-grey eyes, it was hard to believe she
was related to any of the Jones sisters, who all inherited the same
“cream with coffee” complexion, smoky eyes, and curvy figures. That
was the beauty of genetics. Anything was possible with a recessive
gene.

Candace smiled at her doubting cousin.
“C’mon, what happened to that can-do attitude?”

“
I think Jerry took it
along with everything else in my safety deposit box.”

Candace cracked up
laughing. They could joke about it now, but two years ago when
Toye’s husband, Jerry, walked out on her, Toye was a blubbering
mess. She and Jerry had shared an idyllic existence until he ran
off with Toye’s dog walker. Ironically, the charlatan left the dog
(an adorable Shih Tzu) behind, but he’d helped himself to his and
Toye’s joint bank account. By the time Toye realized his
transgression, the fool was long gone. He could be in
Timbuktu f
or all they
knew, or right around the corner. Miami was a big city. It was easy
to disappear.

That was the way their luck had gone with
men. It seemed the male species had a way of mysteriously showing
up and then vanishing from their lives. It started with Candace’s
mother, bringing home a string of freeloaders who never lasted more
than a few months. Candace was fourteen years old before she
realized a true boyfriend was not a man who used women as doormats
and sucked them dry of their confidence.

Her mother was deceased now, but the life
she lived had a lasting effect on her three daughters. Ronnie was
the only one who’d experienced love. But sadly, her husband died in
Afghanistan years ago, leaving her with a broken heart and a baby
boy. Candace’s only nephew, Jovan, was now eleven years old. Now,
Candace was experiencing the same drama with men. Only this time,
the man wasn’t her boyfriend.

Four months ago, she’d contracted with a
prominent realtor to renovate this house and have it ready for sale
in twelve weeks. Flipping houses was her area of expertise. She’d
been doing it for the past three years. It was her passion, and the
only way she’d stayed sane after her mother passed away. At first,
she’d done it on a smaller scale. Her profession as a realtor
allowed her to pick homes up for a steal. Then, she began flipping
them and selling them for a handsome profit. Now, she flipped
full-time. It gave her a sense of accomplishment. Her reputation
grew and then one day Zion Realty, a faith-based organization that
relocated needy families from the streets to good homes, approached
her.

Candace felt privileged to be involved in
such a noble endeavor. Not only would this sale make her a
ridiculous sum of money, but she’d also be contributing to a worthy
cause. Growing up in a broken home, family meant a lot to her. But
as luck would have it, the fates were not with her. Everything was
on schedule, until two weeks ago when the contractor she used for
the renovations dropped off the face of the earth. He took off with
the money she gave him and the building materials—leaving the
renovations unfinished. She was under contract to deliver this
house to the buyer in four weeks, a few days before Christmas. Her
reputation was on the line. She didn’t dare trust another
contractor to do it. She was using what little construction
expertise she had to complete the job. Unfortunately, she had a
crew of misfits helping her.

So much for Girl Power.

“
Y’know, Sampson’s offers
classes for free,” Toye told her.

“
Why on earth would they
do that?” Candace asked, finally locating the brackets and the
corresponding screws. Triumphant, she reached for the electric
screwdriver. Initially, she’d balked at the expensive price tag,
but she’d found that like chocolate, power tools made life so much
easier.

“
I dunno. I guess so folks
will buy their products to be used on the projects.”

Put it that way, it made sense. Still, she
was hesitant. “The last time I went to Sampson’s, I saw that guy.”
She’d told the ladies about her encounter with the stranger who
paid her tab.

Ronnie glanced up from her magazine. “That
was a week ago, Candace. I think it’s safe to go back.”

“
You should have seen him
driving that faded old truck. I nearly jumped out of my heels when
I saw it looming behind me. It looked like something out of
Sanford & Son
!”

The ladies burst into a fit of giggles.

“
You are too funny,”
Ronnie said.

“
I’m serious. All that was
missing was the junk.”

Ronnie smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Well, if
you do run into him again, let him work out some of the kinks. You
are wound too tight, girl.”

“
No way!”

“
Why not? I thought you
said he was fine.”

“
He was, but like I told
you, I’m not letting my vagina make my decisions
anymore.”

“
Okay. Suit
yourself.”

“
I will.” Candace huffed
as she fitted the first cabinet on the hinge, screwed it in, and
closed it shut. With a sense of satisfaction, she stepped back and
surveyed her work. The smile died on her lips as she realized
something was horribly wrong. The cabinets were upside down—and
backwards. Her eyes widened when she realized her error. “Aw, shit.
I must have drilled them on the wrong sides.”

Toye howled with laughter. “If you keep this
up, this house will be in worse shape than when you started.”

“
Yeah,” Marlowe joined in,
“you’ll be the first person to do a backward flip! Get it? Flipping
houses? Backward flip?”

“
No worries,” Candace
assured the naysayers. “I’ll take a break from cabinets and work on
repairing this tile floor instead.”

Toye shook her head and walked out of the
kitchen.

“
Where are you going?”
Candace demanded.

“
I’m calling Sampson’s,”
Toye answered. “I’m going to see if they offer classes for kitchen
remodeling.”

# # #

Gabe reviewed the projected sales
spreadsheet again. All the data indicated they were on target to
meet their end-of-year objectives. “You did a great job on this,
Phil. At this rate, we’ll see record-breaking profits again next
year.”

Numbers were never fun for Gabe, but Phil
Collins—no relation to the megastar—made it look so effortless. Not
only was Phil the V.P. of Sales for Sampson’s, he was also one of
Gabe’s best friends. They’d known each other for fifteen years.
Gabe trusted him like a brother.

They sat across from each other in Phil’s
office, located on the top floor of Sampson’s. “I knew you’d be
happy,” Phil bragged. “I also want to talk with you about a line of
shovels I think we should sell for the holidays. They’re
ergonomically suited for smaller physiques, like females. The
handle grip is different, the shovel weighs less, and the length is
considerably shorter. But the tool is just as efficient as a
regular shovel. With the increasing number of women getting into
gardening and home improvement, I think those babies will sell like
hot cakes. We can cater to a larger demographic and expand our
brand for women.”

“
Sounds good. Order
however many you think we’ll need.”

“
Let’s head over to
O’Malley’s and discuss this over a few cold brews.”

What a pair they would make drinking at the
posh bar called O’Malley’s. Phil, clean-cut and wearing a
custom-made, single-breasted dark suit. Gabe, in denim overalls and
work boots. He glanced at his watch. “Can’t. It’s my late night.
I’ve got a class that starts in a few minutes.”

“
Man, you and your
classes. Don’t you ever get tired of them?”

“
I love teaching. I can’t
just be another pretty face. Gotta pass on the knowledge,
bro.”

Phil chuckled. “Spare me your anemic pickup
lines. Those doe-eyed females might fall for that shit, but I
don’t.”

Gabe laughed. Not only had Phil seen him
through all of his ups and downs in business, he knew all about
Gabe’s love life—or lack thereof. At twenty-nine years old, Gabe
still hadn’t had a serious relationship. He was picky when it came
to women. He’d found that most of them were opportunists. As soon
as they learned who he was, they threw themselves at him with the
force of an Amtrak. His internal metal detector could spot a gold
digger from a galaxy away.

He hadn’t always been so leery of women. In
his youth, he’d made reckless choices, screwed anything with legs.
He guessed he was looking for the attention he didn’t get at home.
He had no trouble attracting women, but back then, girls weren’t
his only problem. He and Phil got into plenty of trouble as
teenagers, raising hell and pissing their parents off. His mom was
quick to reprimand, but just as quick to forgive and smother him
with unconditional love.

His father on the other hand, was always
bitter. He thought money could solve the world’s problems. When it
didn’t, he held a grudge. The old man had Alzheimer’s now. The good
thing was he didn’t remember half of the bad stuff Gabe had done
when he was young. The bad news was he didn’t even remember his own
son half of the time.

Gabe stood and brushed his dark thoughts
aside. “As much as I’d love to sit here chewing the fat with you, I
gotta get going. My adoring public awaits.” He liked working with
his hands. Everyone at Sampson’s knew it.

He pushed a hammer into the pocket of his
overalls, and made his way to one of several rooms on the lower
level where classes were held. Only ten people had signed up for
today’s class. Good. The smaller the better. He could give students
the individualized attention they deserved. He liked showing people
new things. Liked that ‘aha’ moment when the light bulb went on.
Plus, the more people knew how to do, the more they would come to
Sampson’s and spend money on their products. Yes, there was
definitely a method to the madness.

He entered the brightly
lit room. Some well-meaning staff member had adorned the wood table
tops with silver tinsel. The room had been set up with individual
work stations so he could easily instruct each person. Many times,
couples took the classes and preferred to sit at a station
together. That was fine with him. He thought it was sweet when they
did that. Maybe one day he’d meet a woman who shared his interest
in home improvement
.

One who likes me no matter what kind of
truck I drive.

“
Welcome to Sampson’s,” he
announced. “I’m your instructor, Gabe. If you’re looking for the
speed dating place, sorry, that’s across the street. But if you’re
here to learn about installing tile floors, I’m your
man.”

This brought a few snickers from the people
assembled. Immediately, his spirits soared. He was a people person.
He fed off the energy of his captive audience. He glanced around
the class and noticed a familiar face. He couldn’t stop his heart
from ping ponging inside his chest. After ‘Blondie’ had left him
choking in her exhaust fumes a few weeks ago, he never expected to
see her again. She looked good in painted on jeans that hugged her
curves and a snug t-shirt that caressed her ample breasts. The
stilettos made her long legs look like stilts.

When their gazes connected, her mouth
dropped open in a wide “O”. He grinned. She was as shocked to see
him, as he was to see her.

“
Don’t worry,” he assured
his class, keeping his eyes fixed on the mystery woman,” I’m an
expert at what I do. I promise, you’re in good hands.”

Candace’s breath caught as she took in the
familiar dark eyebrows, chestnut eyes, and smooth-as-chocolate bald
head. Even dressed in overalls and Sampson’s trademark lime green
apron, the man exuded masculinity. Their eyes locked, and the
smoldering look he gave her made her squirm in her seat. She
shivered involuntarily as the pink tip of his tongue shot out to
lick his lips. She’d never seen the act done so seductively.