“What was that all about?” Gabby asks.
“I have no idea,” I say. “But, I guess I'm having dinner with my father tonight.”
“Oh, that should be fun.”
“Yeah, about as fun as a pap smear,” I say and roll my eyes.
Gabby laughs and tosses a crumpled-up paper napkin at me. “You're awful.”
I shrug. “What can I say? You've taught me well.”
I take a sip of my mimosa and let my mind wander, wondering what my father could possibly want. And judging by the tone of his voice – and that indescribable thing I heard behind it – he wants something. Gabby looks at me, a rueful smile touching her lips as she can see me trying to figure it out in my head.
“Well, this has certainly cast a pall over the afternoon,” she says.
“Yeah, I'm sorry,” I say. “My dad tends to have that effect.”
Gabby laughs and drains the last of her glass. “Fear not,” she says. “I'm not going to let him ruin the rest of our day. After all, we have an appointment at the best spa in the city.”
“Oh, we do?”
Gabby nods. “Indeed, we do, my dear.”
“Excellent,” I say. “I can use a nice spa day.”
“Well then, let us press forth.”
I pay the bill and follow Gabby out to her car, doing my very best to not let the interaction with my father ruin my day. Thankfully, she doesn't push the issue of taking a little road trip. Given how I was feeling at that moment, there's a good chance I might have taken her up on it.
As we head out to the parking lot, I try to push all the thoughts out of my head and focus on the here and now. No matter how hard I try though, a feeling of worry wraps itself around my heart and squeezes me tight. I feel the weight of uncertainty and anxiety pressing down on me.
No matter how hard I try, I can't break free from the thoughts and concerns flashing through my mind. And I know that no matter how hard I try to keep it from happening, my day is already ruined. All I can do is what I usually do when I'm in this kind of state – put on a happy face and pretend that everything is A-OK.
Yeah, my dad really has a shitty effect like that.
Chapter Four
Michael
It's been a couple of weeks since I watched Trujillo blow that guy's brains out and every day has been sheer hell. I can't sleep at night. Whenever I close my eyes - all I can see is that guy's head exploding in a spray of red meat. I feel the blood splashing onto me. See myself dragging the corpse out from the rest area and pushing it down the embankment. I hear the way it crashed through the undergrowth before finally coming to rest a long way down.
I know it's going to be a long time before anybody finds it - if the body is ever found. It's not a highly traveled path to begin with but sitting on the side of a steep hill thick with trees and choked with weeds and grass means that poor sap is probably going to lay there until he turns into nothing but bones. Probably even longer than that.
Despite that fact though, I scan the news every single day, looking for a story on the discovery of the body. I watch out the windows constantly, waiting for the cops to come storming in through the front door. Every time I see a cop car, my whole body tenses up and I feel physically nauseous, waiting for them to slap the cuffs on and haul me away. I've never been more stressed out and terrified than since Trujillo shot that guy in front of me.
Yeah. The last couple of weeks has sucked a whole bag of dicks.
When I'm stressed out and on edge, I tend to do the only thing I can do – throw myself into my work. It helps keep my head focused and clear. And, when I'm feeling as antsy and wound up as I do right now, it's about the only thing that calms me down.
This morning, we're breaking ground on a new strip mall project in downtown Denver. The morning is cool, but warmer than it usually is this time of year. Instead of sitting in the trailer and doing the administrative bullshit that normally drives me crazy, I decide to work with the crew today. As nervous and on edge as I am, I can't sit behind the desk. No, this morning, I need the physical exertion.
With a cup of coffee in hand, I walk out of the trailer, putting a hard hat on my head and take a deep breath, allowing the fresh morning air to fill my lungs. Yeah, this is what I need. I need a good, hard, eight-hour day in the sun, working. Grinding. Sweating. I need to go home completely exhausted, wanting nothing more than food, a hot shower, and my bed.
Yes sir, that's exactly what the doctor ordered.
“Gettin' your hands dirty today, huh, boss?” Jake, one of my foremen, calls to me.
“Somebody needs to teach you slackers how to work.”
I step over to the backhoe, climb into the cab, and fire it up. I give it a minute to warm up and then drive over to the excavation site. With the building having already been demolished, now we just need to get the new center built. With any luck, we'll get it done on time and under budget, as that means I'll get a significant bonus.
And if there's one thing I need right now - it's money.
I work for about an hour and a half, digging the trenches and helping to clear the section where we're going to lay the groundwork for the beginning of the center. I notice that my mood is clearing, my thoughts are becoming more focused, and I'm starting to feel better about things. A good, hard day's work always does that for me.
Shutting down the backhoe, I climb out of the cab and walk over to the foreman's tent. Jake is there, looking over the plans and discussing the next steps forward with a couple of the guys on our crew. I listen in for a few minutes and provide a few more details for the crew.
Jake sends them off and I grab a soda out of the cooler and pop the top, taking a long drink, relishing the feel of the cool liquid sliding down my parched throat. It's been a while since I've worked with the crew out on the site, and I have to say, I'm enjoying it.
“So, what's up with the guest appearance today?” Jake asks and takes a sip from his own soda.
I shrug. “Just needed fresh air and physical exertion today, I guess.”
He nods and looks at me for a long moment. “Everything okay, boss?”
I turn to him doing my best to keep my expression neutral. “Yeah, fine,” I say. “Why do you ask?”
“I dunno,” he says. “You just haven't been yourself the last couple of weeks. You seem kind of – tense – or something.”
Yeah, maybe because I spent an hour in a scalding hot shower, washing the blood and bits of brain from some poor schmuck out of my hair a couple of weeks ago. That's enough to make anybody tense. But of course, I can't say that to him.
“Nothing to worry about,” I say. “It's all good.”
He nods, but I can see the doubt on his face plain as day. Nothing I can do about that though. He's my foreman, not my confidant, so I don't feel compelled to unburden myself to him. I don't owe him answers to anything.
“Who's this?” Jake says, looking at something beyond my shoulder.
I turn and follow his eyes, my heart sinking straight into my gut when I see a familiar black SUV rolling into the parking lot. Trujillo. Shit. I don't owe Jake any answers, but I do need to keep him from poking around and finding out who Trujillo is. Which means I need to keep him away from Trujillo completely. Jake is a sharp, perceptive guy – it's why I made him one of my foremen. But, the last thing I need is him turning that sharp, perceptive brain onto a guy like Trujillo.
“Potential investor,” I say. “Forgot I told him he could come down and look at the site and discuss some preliminary parameters on his project with me.”
“New project?” Jake asks. “You didn't mention it to me.”