Almost Easy

by Amelia Oliver

  As I push open the door, I look around and see that I am in fact the last one there. Making my way to the only seat left in the room, I nod in greeting to a few of the other men, and I see William smirking to himself, looking down at his phone. We’ve stayed out of one another’s way since my ‘talk’, and that works just fine for me. Sitting down, I place my folders on the smoked glass conference table in front of me and pull the budget folder from the stack. Opening it, I look up at one of the city’s accountants, and nod, letting her know she can begin.

  She’s been speaking for no longer than five minutes when all heads turn at the opening of the conference room door. Poor Beth blushes instantly at being the center of everyone’s immediate focus, but holds her head up as she indicates that she’s there for me. The accountant nods, and then starts to speak again, while I watch Beth lower her eyes and make her way around to me.

  “I’m so sorry Mr. Harrington, but Mr. Frederickson really needs to speak with you. He says it’s urgent, and insisted that I come get you.”

  Beth speaks in a soft tone, but is heard by those around me. I can tell by her voice that something bad has happened. Fear and worry for Nolan’s safety instantly boils in my stomach and I feel sick. I quickly gather my things and stand, preparing to leave.

  “Everything okay, Mr. Harrington?” I look over to see William Patrick feign concern, like he gives a shit.

  “If you’ll excuse me councilors, I am about to find that out,” I say, taking a step towards the door.

  “I hope there’s nothing wrong at the high school gymnasium site,” William tuts, “Did Mr. Frederickson say anything about that Beth?” his focus directly on her.

  What the fuck is this guy’s deal? Can he not see we’re trying to get the fuck out of here to find out?

  I look over at Beth, her face is downcast, and the uneasy feeling in my stomach goes from mild to violent.

  “Oh for goodness sake Ms. Adams, I asked you a direct question. A simple answer will suffice.” William demands, and I watch in a sort of outside my body, slow motion, as he seems to have taken control of the room.

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Frederickson was calling to say that the high school build site has been shut down. It failed a build inspection.”

  I swear to fuck, all the air in the room leaves when every single person gasps and looks directly at me; questions I don’t have answers for clear in their eyes.

  Everyone that is, but William Patrick. That fucker is smiling.

  ***

  Assuring my colleagues that I’ll find out what’s happened, and that I’m sure it will be easily rectified – which by the way, I don’t know is true - I quickly move out of the room. I hope it’s something that I can sort out. Jesus fucking Christ! It’s strange in a way, because even though I now know Nolan is safe and hasn’t been hurt on the job, the feeling of impending doom hasn’t gone away. It’s sitting heavy in my gut, making my heartbeat erratically and for the life of me I can’t imagine what the fuck could have gone wrong.

  Reaching reception, Beth passes me my phone, and I hit call on Nolan’s contact. He answers on the second ring.

  “What the fuck has taken you so long to call me back?!”

  Nolan’s furious. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him this angry and considering our yelling match Saturday night, that’s saying something.

  “I was in meetings. Beth just told me about the site. What the fuck happened?” I talk while moving back towards the elevator bank to get up to my office.

  “You tell me Rupert, you’re the one who was supposed to handle all the paperwork, remember?” he says, and I don’t like the implied accusation in his tone.

  “Hold the fuck up, Nolan. I don’t even know what the violation was for? I’m grabbing my things now and coming to you,” I inform him, stepping inside the opened elevator doors.

  “Hello!?” he says, full of sarcasm. “The site has been shut down, where the fuck do you think you’re going to go? Stay there, I’m on my way to you. My dad is gonna shit a cow, I need answers Rupert, and I need them now.”

  “Calm down, we’ll get it sorted out. What was the violation for?” I ask for the second time, my voice neutral in tone. I’m trying to be the voice of reason here. My hope is that if I keep my shit tight, Nolan will be reassured that I have his back, and we’ll find the solution together.

  With that the line disconnects. It’s either due to the closing of the elevator doors, or he’s hung up on me. Fuuuuccck.

  Reaching the second floor, as soon as I clear the metal doors, I’m dialing the number of the building inspector. Shit, straight to voicemail.

  Nolan gave me no answer as to what went wrong and I want to know what we’re facing here. If it’s an easy fix, PC may only be shut down for a week, max. Something larger and we could be facing a month long delay, maybe more. Getting a project like this up and running takes a lot of work, but getting one started back up after a serious infringement closure? That shit can feel like the impossible.

  Placing my phone down on the large work table across from my desk, I leave the redial option open, systematically hitting it while I sift through the many folders and plans in front of me. They’re all blurring together and I bang my fist on the table in frustration. Goddamn it, I can’t believe this is happening.

  Plantain Construction is a family business. Built from the ground up by brothers who aren’t related by blood, but are brothers nonetheless, it’s the livelihood of a lot of people. Not to mention, it’s the foremost construction company in the region. Their reputation is impeccable. Christ, I think they’re even receiving an award for Outstanding Achievement or some shit at the Annual Leading Business Awards next week. This thought sinks into the pit of acid in my stomach. PC has their shit together. This fuck up must be on our end, on my end.

  Taking a deep breath, I begin to go back over all the paperwork in front of me; the answer has to be in here somewhere. The sound of my office door slamming shut makes my head snap to the left and I see Nolan charging towards me.

  “So help me God, Rupert, what the fuck kinda set-up are you running here?”

  “Nolan, for fuck sake, just tell me what happened! I can’t get Steve to answer my call and you fucking hung up on me!”

  I’m guessing that last part and I’m hoping he’ll deny it, that way I’ll know it was a lost connection, and not his actions. He says nothing.

  “Tell me,” I’m nearly shouting at him now, “I’m flying blind here!”

  “Flying blind? You’re flying blind? Try building a high school gymnasium with two different sets of schematics! One for foundation and structure and one for the plumbing, electrical and interior – and they don’t fuckin’ match!” he yells back, tossing the folders from under his arm on the table.

  “What? That’s not possible,” my disbelief clear in my tone, “I caught that problem weeks ago. I fixed it.”

  “You what?” Nolan’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “You knew there was a fuck up and didn’t tell me? Didn’t you think it important enough to inform the fucking Construction Manager that there was an issue and give him the heads-up about it?”

  “I didn’t tell you because there was nothing to tell!” I’m getting pissed now; this is starting to feel like a reprimand, “I caught it right before the project started. Everyone had the right plans by the time ground broke.”

  “Well we fucking didn’t, did we? Now Steve has issued a violation because the permits we have for each part of the construction look like they’re for two different fucking buildings!”

  “So it’s a time penalty?” I ask, finally getting a hint at what the infringement was for.

  “What?”

  “It’s a time penalty? The violation? You’ve been shut down for up to seven days to get your paperwork in order and you’ll be inspected again before the site closure is lifted.”

  “I know what a time penalty is Rupert. This,” he sweeps his hand over the top of the worktable, indicating all the plans in front of
us, “is not my first time building shit.”

  “Ah, but it is mine. That’s what you’re getting at right? The green, new kid on the block, fucked up.”

  “Jesus, this is too much…” he trails off, running his palm over the front of his face and up into his hair, his frustration clear.

  “What do you mean, ‘this is too much’?” I question, not really wanting to know the answer.

  “This,” he motions between the two of us, “We should have never… I knew I should’ve just…” he doesn’t finish either of those statements, but I push him. I want to know what the fuck he’s saying.

  “You knew you should’ve just what Nolan? Finish your fucking sentence,” I say, my jaw clenched. If he’s going to end us, over this shit, then he can be the one to do it.

  Don’t misunderstand me, I get that this is serious and there is a lot at stake here, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. The time violation will set us all back, but I have all the right plans and the permits can be reissued within days. Hopefully PC is insured against errors like this, to compensate for wages and shit, but if they’re not, then they can sue the city. Hell, I’ll help them fill out the paperwork and sign a liability waiver. I don’t give a fuck if I lose my job, PC is more important.

  Nolan is more important.

  Speaking to his dusty boots, Nolan’s tone is icy calm, “I wanted off this project Rupert. I actually took myself off it.” Lifting his head to give me his piercing blue eyes, I hold his gaze, and my breath. I know what’s coming.

  “Then, you show up, at my fucking house, and I cave. I ignored the screaming voice in my head telling me us working together was a bad idea, all because you make my fucking dick hard!”

  “Go on,” I tell him, sensing that he’s got more to get off his chest.

  “Can you honestly tell me your head’s been fully in the game on this? That you’re totally on top of everything? You’ve already admitted there was one fuck up you had to fix. Maybe rather than worrying about what your colleagues are saying about the new guy fucking the contractor, you should have been worrying about this!” He slams his hand on the table and the papers jump in reaction, some of them falling to the floor.

  And there it is. What this is really about.

  He still doesn’t think I’m in this, really in this, with him. It hurts, but I get why he’s gun-shy. I didn’t tell him I’d confronted William on the Monday morning after the gala, and I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t care less what others thought of me being with him. What I did tell him was that I loved him. I’d thought it would be enough.

  “You done?” I ask looking at him, nodding my head toward the table he’d just hit.

  My question is more about his rant than about us, but the way he’s looking, I can’t tell how he took it.

  “Yeah, I’m done.”

  With that Nolan picks up his folders and walks out of my office.

  What I don’t know is, if he’s just walked out of my life too.

  CH 15

  NOLAN

  Having to tell my dad that the high school job site was penalized and shut down, he reacted the worst way possible, silence. Calling Joey and Nathan was a lot easier, they engaged me in conversation about what happened and both knew seven days wasn’t going to make or break us. But I was still fuming pissed. I should’ve followed my gut in the first place and stayed off the project. But noooooo, my dick decided it needed to be the thinker, and look where it got us.

  After calling Evan to place our workers on other sites in the meantime, I need time to cool off. I’m still angry with Rupert, and myself. I don’t want to be done with him, but I feel I have no other choice. The fudging of the plans was the final straw for me. My work and business is everything to me. The night of the gala felt like it could potentially fuck things up for PC, and today it had.

  Pulling into the driveway, I walk up to the side door and let myself in. I hear Connor singing along to a television show and my brows furrow. I don’t hear Irys and something about the house just feels off.

  “Irys?” I call out. Nothing.

  Little footsteps clap on the hardwood floor and Connor comes into view around the breakfast bar.

  “Hey, Con-man,” I smile but my smile falls when I see he’s in his little brief underwear and nothing else. “Where’s your momma?”

  “She’s not feeling good,” he tells me, and I call again for Irys with no reply.

  Taking his hand, we walk through the kitchen, worry taking over. This isn’t like my sister, the house is a mess, the television is on cartoons and Connor doesn’t just sit in front of the T.V.

  I look into the rooms as I pass by and sigh when I see her lying in the bed of the master bedroom. A garbage can is sitting beside the bed, along with a glass of water on the nightstand. The shades are closed and the room is bathed in darkness.

  “You hungry, buddy?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “Get yourself dressed and I’ll take you to eat.”

  He walks to his room, as I enter the master and move over to the bed.

  “Irys,” I say softly, the white duvet cover is all the way up to her ear as she lies on her side.

  She moans, “Nolan, oh my God.”

  Kneeling down, I notice and smell vomit in the garbage can. I reach out and pull the comforter down, to see her face pale, and her eyes closed.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, unsure if it’s the flu or pregnancy or something.

  “I don’t know, I just all of a sudden felt so sick,” she swallows. “I just needed to lie down and then I started puking.”

  “Why didn’t you call anyone?” I ask rather irritated.

  “I don’t know where I put my phone, I didn’t have the energy to look for it.”

  “Do you need anything?” I ask, standing.

  “I need to empty the garbage and feed Connor… I’ll do it.”

  “Just stay there,” I say, grabbing the garbage can and the near empty glass of water.

  I call Evan and tell him what’s going on, and make sure Irys isn’t running a fever, before I help Connor get dressed and into my truck.

  “Where you wanna go?”

  “The diner please.”

  “Sounds good,” I nod and we head into town.

  The afternoon with my nephew really took my mind off everything with Rupert. I know my phone going off at my hip is Rupert, but with Irys being sick I still check to make sure. Yup, it’s him. I don’t open the messages, knowing they’re not about work.

  After lunch, I take Connor to my house and let him do whatever he wants. Which is basically to sit in front of the television since Irys and Evan don’t let him do that much. Evan calls me to tell me he’s home, but taking Irys to emergency, because Wyatt said with her being pregnant, she needs fluids while sick. I offer to take Connor overnight and Evan tells me that my parents will if I can’t handle him. I almost scoff at the offer, I might not be Connor’s favorite, but I can handle the kid for the night. I get word about midnight that they’ve admitted Irys but everything’s okay and that the babies are fine, she just needs fluids and rest.

  I keep Connor all weekend, paying little attention to my phone. I’d been getting updates about the high school site paperwork being corrected via my dad; I guess Rupert was talking with him about it, since I was being stubborn and unreachable. I wake up Sunday morning, it’s early and I don’t know what’s woken me, ah yes, my erection. Rolling onto my side I burrow into the pillow that Rupert used, smelling his scent and it goes straight to my heart. I wanted everything from him, but gave so little of myself in return. No, maybe that’s too strong a use of words. I expected him to put his career on the line, to tattoo a rainbow flag on his forehead. Yet I wasn’t willing to tell that asshat he worked with off at the gala either, for the sake of PC.

  Maybe this was all an excuse. I was using work and the town as a smoke screen for masking that I was really, really in love with Rupert. I’ve never been in love, and it terrifies me. It was ca
pable of shooting me off into space and also plummeting me down into the depths of hell. Rupert has a college degree, he can work anywhere, go anywhere. I’m tied to Plantain with roots beneath my feet. I hadn’t considered him leaving here again, not until the gala, and knew he was used to something different. Big cities, strangers, people not meddling.

  Grabbing my phone, I open his texts. The first twenty are all about the plans and permits, telling me he didn’t do this and that I need to trust him and that he’ll work it out. Then they become more personal and the tone changes, or maybe that’s just in my head.

  RH: Please talk to me.

  RH: Call me.

  RH: I got the plans worked out, the building inspector is coming on Tuesday morning. Please call me.

  RH: Your dad said Irys is ill and you’re watching Connor…let me know if you or your family need anything.

  I smile at that, smile through the cloudy vision filling my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I tap for the keyboard to come up and my thumbs hover in the air before I start typing.

  NF: Thank you for working the papers out, I’ll be at the site Tuesday morning. Irys is fine, thank you for asking, and I survived a weekend with little Mr. Type A. XX.

  I hardly have time to check my phone that day, cleaning up after the tyrant and getting ready for dinner at my parents, left little time to sit and play on my phone. I felt better for at least returning the communication, even though I didn’t know how I felt about things still.

  Connor charges into my parents’ house, Mowgli runs up to us and Connor instantly puts his hand out.

  “No!” he says firmly and the dog moves around him and toward me.

  “He doesn’t like the dog slobber,” Wyatt informs me, entering the kitchen.

  “Of course he doesn’t,” I state.

  “Hi uncle Dr. Frederickson,” Connor says in greeting to my brother while running past him, probably looking for my youngest sister Ruby, who’s now ten and Madeline, Katie and Joey’s adopted daughter, to play.