Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I don’t give a single, solitary fuck what flowers she puts where. She’s dragging this out the same way she has everything for the last two weeks
“I’m sure that’ll be lovely. If you want to sign here?” I hold up my clipboard with the signature area already highlighted and offer her a pen.
She takes the pen and clipboard but doesn’t sign. Instead, she tilts her head and gives me what she likely thinks is a teasing smile. The contrast from her usual snide sneer is jarring. “It seems you got a little bonus out of this job too.” She glances toward Dani’s house. “Maybe I should get a matchmaker discount.”
She cannot be serious. She has done everything, including putting in this pool, to make Dani’s life an absolute living hell.
“Non-discounted payments have already processed through the lien holder. They’ll receive a copy of the signed paperwork today and close your project file,” I say flatly, doing my level best to keep my temper in check. I’m pretty sure I fail spectacularly because Kathy returns to her usual look of contemptuous snobbishness.
“Well, I guess I have to be a loose woman to get my patio done at a discount and on a rush.”
Oh yeah, I know what she’s talking about. The Monday after we did our sneak attack renovation, Kathy heard Dani working on the grill and had the fire marshal pulling up out front before ten a.m. He was less than pleased to discover that the ‘nearly catching my fence on fire’ situation Kathy reported as an emergency was a perfectly legal grill, placed on a legit patio several feet away from the composite, fire-retardant fence panels.
But she’s actually suggesting that Dani paid for patio work with sex and outright calling her a whore.
And I am so fucking done with her bullshit.
“My work for other customers is none of your business,” I snap. “If there’s nothing else with your project, sign the paperwork.”
She jumps at my harsh order but scribbles her name, which is all I need.
“I don’t know if I’ll feel comfortable referring you and your company to my friends.” She sniffs. “You’ve been utterly unpleasant to work with, and your crew’s hostility toward the customer” —she places a hand on her chest like she’s the wronged person here— “is deplorable. Such a disappointing lack of good service.”
“Kathy, if anyone so much as mentions your name to me, I will refuse their project on the grounds that they’re too stupid to get the hell away from you and your rudeness.” With that, I snatch the clipboard from her hand, say fuck it to the pen I don’t care about, and walk off her property for the final time.
Thank fuck.
Out front, Wayne looks at me with his brows lifted, questioning whether we’re solid. Zeus and Frogger have their arms wrapped around each other like they’re waiting for me to tell them they made the varsity football team.
“Done.” They cheer, and I laugh, not giving a shit if Kathy hears us. “Take tomorrow off. You deserve it. And the pain in the ass bonus will hit with paychecks this week.”
Frogger and Zeus cheer even louder. Wayne levels me with a glare. “Still not worth it. The next job had better not be like this one or I quit.”
It’s a hollow threat, but thankfully, I know our next job is nothing like Kathy. Next up, we have a vacation home install with a step-down seating area inset on the side of the pool that should be easy with no homeowners onsite until final inspections. After that, we’ve got a cool infinity pool situation I’m doing for a bigshot hockey player at his home away from the ice.
“Thanks, man.” I shake Wayne’s hand, then high-five Zeus and Frogger. “Dinner’s on me if you wanna stop on the way home.”
“Fuck yeah,” Frogger says. “Subway’s got buy one footlong, get one free. Dinner’s on you tonight and tomorrow.”
Zeus chuckles before teasing, “You can eat my footlong.”
“Preston,” I scold.
He holds his hands out. “What?”
“You owe me,” Wayne reminds me, and I nod, agreeing easily. I owe him so much, for so many things, least of all sending him home with those two making stupid jokes and talking about how to get the most bang for my buck with their dinner order.
“See ya Monday. I’ll send you the address,” I call out as he climbs in.
They wave as they drive away, and though I throw a wave over my shoulder, I’ve got somewhere else to be.
Dani and I have had dinner. The dishes are done. The kitchen is clean. We’ve hypothetically discussed the merits of either throwing weed seed over the fence into Kathy’s yard or injecting weed killer into the soil along the fence line so that her bougainvillea will never take root as payback for her awfulness. And all the while, Peanut Butter’s been lying in the corner on his new dog bed that Dani surprised him with, snoring loudly.