Page 23 of Demo
“Two weeks ago. The crash at 104 and Ridgeway. I looked like an Oompa Loompa.”
I have to put my hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh about to burst out. I know the photo he is talking about. And, yes, he did look like a character from Willy Wonka.
“You were pissed—and rightfully so!” I say.
“I was purple.”
I let a laugh out. “OK! OK! I’ll talk to Monty about color-correcting your complexion.”
“Much appreciated.”
Chapter 8
Ten years ago …
KNOX
Iwashaulingbucketsof plaster up the stairs, two in each hand, as Tommy was barking at my back. We were hanging drywall, which was normally something I liked to do, but this new hire needed a bit of hand-holding—which was another thing I wouldn’t normally mind, except this guy never stopped fucking talking.
“So, now that I’ve had a three-way, I’m not sure I can ever go back to plain old vanilla,” he said.
When I didn’t give a response, I looked up to see him staring at me. “Dude, seriously?” I asked.
“Man, you should have seen these chicks. I’m meeting up with them again tonight!”
Thing was, I kinda didn’t believe Tommy could land any chick. From the moment I met him, I thought he was an awkward guy. Tall and skinny, he’s strong as an ox, but somehow had very few visible muscles on his body. He was blonde, which I knew he thought made him look good because he had his hair grown out long enough to fit into a little ponytail at the back of his head, like a rat tail. And the light hair did nothing for the sad excuse for a beard he was trying to grow. It looked more like a patchy dusting of sugar stuck to his face.
Gino was hot on our heels, also covered in drywall dust and lugging buckets of plaster. “You’re just a stallion,” he said in reply to Tommy’s comments.
Gino’s a stark contrast to Tommy in the looks department—the stereotypical profile of an Italian goob: olive skin, dark hair hanging perfectly coiffed over his forehead, and perfectly carved shoulder and arm muscles that lead to hard abs. I remember trying to freaking hate the guy—and his abs—but he made it hard.
Checking out of the conversation, my phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I tried to subdue the jolt of hope I got every time I got a notification since Lyzbeth and I exchanged numbers a few days ago, knowing it likely wouldn’t be her since she hadn’t reached out at all since our non-date.
But strike me dead, when I pulled out my phone I sawPrincess Consuelaflash across the screen. Wiping my hands on my jeans to try to get the drywall dust off them, I nearly dropped my phone as it bounced from one hand to the other and I caught it before it hit the ground. I swiped the green button and quickly put the phone to my ear.
“Lyzbeth?” I’m not sure why I said it like a question. Maybe I thought the universe was playing a trick on me. I could practically see both Tommy and Gino’s ears perk up at hearing me say her name.
“Knox. Hey, it’s, uh, well, it’s Lyzbeth. Obviously.” She let out a nervous laugh.
We were both quiet for a minute as I moved into another “room,” which was a joke because no walls were up yet in the latest building we were working on, so it wasn’t like I actually went anywhere. But, still, it felt like I had a little more privacy.
“It’s good to hear from you,” I said sincerely, as I used my free hand to remove my ball cap, shake it out, and replace it, backwards.
I heard her let out a breath, then in a rush she began, “So, I’m sorry, this is awkward, but I kinda need a favor.” I could practically hear her face scrunch up. “I have that interview for the internship at the paper today, and my freaking car won’t start! I don’t know if it’s the battery or—”
“What time?” I asked as I turned on my heel and waved the guys off as I started to descend the stairs, two at a time.
“I called my sister, but she must be in class, and I believe her boyfriend is in that same class so he’s no use, and of course I have no cash—”
“What time?” I asked again.
“Three o’clock.”
I pulled the phone away from my face to check the time—two-thirty. Pulling open my truck door, I told her, “I’m on my way. Should be there in ten. How far away is the office from campus?”
“Only like ten minutes. But, Knox, are you sure this isn’t an inconvenience? I know you’re working—”
“Ten minutes. Be outside waiting for me!” I hung up, then sent a quick group text to my dad and the guys to let them know something came up, and I had to cut out for the rest of the day. Then I brought the truck to life and peeled out of the lot.
