by Kate Messick
“What are you looking at?” Devon asks me from across the room. I blink, what am I looking at? I squint at the laptop screen.
“The blueprints for the lake,” I answer. “They fall under three different sections of you-know-whose blueprints.”
“We’re building a lake?” he asks dramatically.
“Har-har.”
The door bounces open and Amorino storms in. The mood in the room is drained just like the scant heat the heaters put out.
“Devon, out,” Amorino barks. He comes to a halt in front of my little workspace.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Devon says calmly.
I silently thank Devon.
“I need to talk to Sandy, alone,” Amorino explains, as if that will make it better.
“It was pretty clear that was your intention.” Devon stands, trying to draw Amorino’s attention. “But I’m not letting this company go through a lawsuit because you have a temper with an old friend.”
Amorino takes a few deep breaths. “Devon, if any of this ever leaves this pod, I will fire you. I will tarnish your reputation beyond repair, and you will never work in Colorado again.”
“If that isn’t motivation to pretend I’m deaf at the moment, nothing is,” Devon mutters and sits down.
Amorino puts his good arm down on my desk. “What did you say to Aurora earlier this week?” His voice is smooth but I can see him shaking.
“We talked about a lot of things,” I reply nonchalantly. I’m, for once, not avoiding the question, just stating the truth, though I can probably guess. “Can you be more specific?”
Amorino takes another deep breath and moves his hand off my desk and balls it into a fist.
“Why did my wife present me with an assortment of objects and then let me know she would be ok with it if I wanted to put them inside of her?” Amorino’s voice is dangerously low, dark.
I, on the other hand, am struggling not to laugh. I was angry when I left Aurora; everything I’d said might not have been strictly accurate.
“Like, in her pockets?” I pray to God my voice stays even and my face innocent.
“Not. In. Her. Pockets.” As Amorino stresses each word, his expression darkens.
I blink a few times to see if he’s going to add details. Instead, he wraps his knuckles roughly against my desk.
“Aurora is desperate to get pregnant and asked me for advice on ways to keep your interest,” I explain.
“And you told her that I like to stick random objects where the sun doesn’t shine?” Amorino growls.
Both of us ignore Devon’s inability to keep his laughter to himself. I’m happy to see that, despite his humor, he’s not taking his eyes off Amorino. Talking has deflated his initial aggression, but he’s still livid, and my lighthearted take on the situation isn’t making things better.
I try a different tactic. “You don’t have to worry. The conversation ended badly. You found your perfect manipulative self-centered match. She’s so wrapped around your fingers that she could watch you sleep with a horse and tell me that it isn’t you.”
“Don’t talk about Aurora like that,” he snaps.
“Then don’t tell her lies and expect me to play along,” I snap back.
“Why are you talking to her at all?” he asks again as he steps around my desk.
I see Devon stand up behind him. “Because she messaged me over and over and over, pleading for help and I felt terrible,” I answer honestly. “I felt terrible for helping you cheat.”
“What did you tell her?” Amorino all but shouts.
“I told her a lot of things, so you’re going to have to be more specific.” I know I’m playing with fire. But I want to see Amorino blow his top.
“I don’t have to be more specific with you,” Amorino yells and in two steps his arm is digging into my waist. His mouth hot and demanding on mine. My chair falls behind me as I step back and hit the wall of the pod, Amorino’s weight on me.
I push against him, but he doesn’t budge. Ok, not quite what I thought would happen if he blew his top.
“Amorino, stop,” Devon demands.
I feel Amorino’s weight lift and I bolt to stand behind Devon, who has one hand on Amorino’s injured arm.
“Fuck,” Amorino spits.
If I was a worse person, I would throw this is Aurora’s face. Not interested in me, my ass. But, I don’t want Amorino’s attention anymore. I wrap my hands around myself and take a few deep breaths. I didn’t expect him to make a move like that, especially not with Devon right there.
“Sandy, are you ok?” Devon asks me quietly.
“She’s fine,” Amorino answers for me.
“I’m ok,” I whisper, throwing Amorino an angry look.
“The two of you both need to cool off,” Devon barks.
I can see the father in him now, sending each of us to different corners of the room. “Amorino, go deal with the Parker contractors. They are two days behind because of a late wood delivery. Yell at them, help them, whatever you need to do. Sandy, go observe Studley Electrics, in case they unearth anything.”
Two contractors on opposite sides of the site. Perfect. I give a silent thank-you to Devon’s plan.
“And I want both of you back here, in this trailer, in forty-five minutes. I don’t know what the fuck I just saw, but we have at least another month left on the ground works and, by God, I know I never want to see it again. So, we’re going to hash this out and if we can’t, we’re going to come to terms.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’m attempting to stomp feeling back into my icy toes and cursing the cold steel-toed boots. I have heat packs in my desk drawer, but I didn’t think to put them in before I left, following Devon’s directions.
Devon and Amorino are already in the pod and I go straight for the coffee.
“I just made it, so It’s piping hot,” Amorino warns me.
I bite my tongue to not say anything, eyeing his mug of contraband in his hands. Devon motions me to a seat.
“I don’t want to know,” Devon starts us off. “I really don’t. Some days, the two of you seem thick as thieves. I’ve even seen you skipping like school kids. Some days, you seem to hate each other … and, apparently, some days you want to do other things … um, right.”
“Aurora sent me twenty-seven texts.” I’m calmer now but still angry. “Twenty-seven. She’s another woman who’s hurting, and I’m not the right person, but I’m the person she reached out to. What did you expect me to do?”
“Blow her off,” Amorino responds, barely holding onto his cool. “And definitely not tell her I like to stick objects up women’s vaginas.”
“I mean, it’s not a lie, you did …”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Devon advises.
“That was one time, Sandy. One time,” Amorino bellows.
“Yeah, but you didn’t fix it and afterwards you asked if you could do it again,” I remind him.
“New topic, new topic,” Devon states wildly.
“I’m not going to be the bigger person here,” I say to Amorino. “I’m just not.”
“Can you just stay away from Aurora?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say decisively. “You delete my phone number off her phone and I will happily stay away from your wife. But you need to stay away from me. I have told you this so many times now. I would have slapped you for kissing me today, but I’m pretty sure you’d have liked it.”
“Wrong direction of conversation,” Devon reminds us.
“I do like it. Fuck, fighting with you turns me on so much,” Amorino growls. “I wish you had slapped me before I got married.”
“Oh my God, if anyone from Human Resources hears any of this, we’re all getting fired,” Devon declares with a shake of the head.
“Would you have still gotten married?”
Amorino doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. I love Aurora.” What his voice lacks in passion is made up for in pure confidence.
“Then
go piss her off until she slaps you,” I say.
“Aurora doesn’t do that.” His statement comes out as a frustrated whine.
“Then find something she does do. Why am I even talking about this with you?” I ask, frustrated. Why is it suddenly my job to fix Amorino’s sex life?
“Right, exactly,” Devon cuts in before either of us can speak again. “Sandy has nothing to do with your marital issues, at least not at work. She’s just another contractor here, trying to do her job. What the two of you do out of office time is up to you, but from 7:30AM to whatever time each of you leaves here is work time.”
“I can agree to that,” I nod. It’s exactly what I want.
“That’s really how it should have been all along,” Amorino admits.
“Great. All solved,” Devon concludes. “I would ask you to shake, but I think a no-touching rule needs to be implemented.”
Amorino and I both laugh, a little of the morning’s frustrations easing off our shoulders. Nothing is actually solved. I know it, Amorino knows it, and hopefully Devon knows it, but once again, there is peace on the job site. Great. One thing at a time.
Chapter Sixty
Reality, Dillon’s Townhome, Solar Row
What brings people together? Shared experiences? Personality? Shared interests? Mixtures of everything? The odds of finding someone who has the same criteria as you are unbelievably low.
Sandy Yuhi
“I’m not ever doing that again,” I announce to Joe and Dillon. Betty, Blake, and Zack have all left. My burnt attempt at making food sits mostly untouched. Paper character sheets blanket the edges of the table with bright dice strewn over them like debris. I’m not sure who’s dumber, my players or myself. They got almost none of the clues I left them, and never went in the direction I wanted them to. It was like herding cats. Except they understood English and got offended when you told them how stupid they were.
“I really enjoyed playing Lordtord, Champion of the Terrarium,” Joe says. “Your character sheets were spot on and your combat encounters really well balanced.”
“If I hadn’t cheated, you would still be using mage had to dig to China,” I hiss.
“It was really hard for me too, the first time,” Dillon confides. “And I still don’t think I’m as good a DM as Joe. And the cycle continues, Joe is not as good as Matt Mercer.”
“No one is as good as Matt Mercer; he literally makes a living DM-ing games on YouTube,” I add. I would know. When I didn’t have anyone to play with, I often watched his videos.
“It’s really important to have multiple ways for players to notice everything,” Joe mansplains. I spare him a withering look.
“Zack was impressed with how you dealt with him bringing Goliath into the game. That kid is way too attached to his character,” Dillon comments.
I do my best to take in their positive words, but feel disheartened. Betty spent the last hour and a half simply playing on her phone. My ability to keep the party together and engaged had been terrible.
“Betty hated it,” I point out.
“It was a lot of combat and numbers,” Joe says. “Some people prefer more story line. I also loved the dungeon map. It was really unique. Did you find it somewhere?”
I hesitate to answer. The truth is I’m not very imaginative and I’m still super curious about the basement level on my work site. So, well, I ripped off the secret blueprints so I could explore them in my imaginary D&D game. Sue me. I love the monster manual because all the monsters are already there to use. I don’t have to be creative.
“I use other people’s dungeons all the time,” Joe admits. “It’s not a challenge. I honestly just hadn’t seen that one before.”
“Um, yeah, I got the map from plans at work,” I decide to share.
“Were there other levels?”
I nod.
“Would you draw them out for me?” Joe asks.
Against my better judgement I draw out the rest of the ground level plans for the destroyed military base that Amorino is building his housing project on. It can’t hurt, Joe has no idea what they are; it’s not like I have real dimensions or labels on them or anything.
“Here, do that in the kitchen,” Dillon requests.
I move my paper and pencil to Dillon’s little kitchen table while he and Joe get the house back in order. Joe and Dillon seem to be getting along really well. I look up as they both come into the kitchen, smiles and words on their lips, but I look down again before they can see me watching. My drawing skills are passable at best, though it helps that I’m basically tracing a picture in my mind.
I feel more than see a beer land beside me as Joe and Dillon sit down and keep talking about the finer points of grapple as an attack option in 5E. I refrain from giving my opinion and focus on my drawing.
“Here you go Joe,” I eventually say, handing him the drawing. “It’s mine though, so please don’t use it or share it.” I’m not stupid enough to tell him it’s of a secret military base.
“Thanks.” He gingerly folds it in half and puts it inside his player manual.
“You two are getting along really well,” I point out. The three of us chilling feels so right but so weird at the same time. I’m sleeping with Joe. I’m still struggling to come to terms with Dillon’s kiss … though it seems to have taken a weight off his shoulders I hadn’t noticed was even there.
“Did you have a good day?” Dillon asks us, ignoring my comment.
“Simple and boring,” Joe answers. “But has been for weeks. A server is going to break here soon, and I will be up shit’s creek.”
I wait for a minute and then realize they are waiting for me.
“Honestly no,” I admit. “The Aurora drama filtered back to me while at work and Devon had to separate Amorino and me like we were little kids. But work itself isn’t bad. I was looking over the plans and I think I can be let out of the contract by the end of December!”
“That’s exciting – little less than a month and a half left the,” Joe adds to the end of my report.
“The Aurora drama?” Dillon asks.
I rub my hands over my face. This is the perfect example of my friendship with Joe and Dillon. Joe neatly avoids everything I don’t want to talk about and skips right to the happy part; Dillon challenges me to confront my situations.
“I’m a mess.” I feel a tear slip out of one eye and I angrily wipe it away. I pick up my beer and move back to the living room. The stress from running my first D&D game combined with all my emotional baggage is getting to me. I need not be sitting in a hard chair under bright lights.
With the extra lamps back where they should be, Dillon’s living room has a lovely glow that obscures details and would hide my tears if they trickled again. I sit in the middle of his large futon-style sofa and put my beer on the coffee table in front of it. The couch cradles my backside and bum; I love it. Maybe I should get a couch … and put it on top of my bed?
Joe and Dillon follow, sitting on either side of me. Their presence comforts me yet scares me. I told everyone about my memory today during the game, and it was cool. Maybe I can trust these two with more. You know, admit to my lies and mistakes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Joe asks.
“She doesn’t, but she should,” Dillon answers.
“I can speak for myself.” I lean forward and take another sip of beer. “And I don’t, but I’m going to.” I echo Dillon’s sentiments in my own way.
I start from the beginning … well, I start from a foundation. Trying desperately to get Joe and Dillon to understand my bizarre, overly close, and much too forgiving friendship with Amorino. I hope they understand. Both men are listening at least. Although Amorino is a good listener, too. Fuck Amorino.
And then comes the hard part. Admitting what I did to Aurora. Admitting that Devon sent us to time-out because I enjoy pushing Amorino’s buttons. I feel my throat begin to dry and Dillon refreshes our beers. I know I cry a little, but other than helping
Amorino cheat, I also am not ashamed. I do feel bad for Joe, who I know wants … wanted? … something more serious than a fling. My kissing other guys must drive home my feelings on that.
“Do you love him?” Dillon asks me after I’m quiet for a while. Of course, he’s talking about Amorino. I find it interesting that he asked me the same question about Joe.
“Yes. But not in the way you’re asking about.”
“Sandy, you pushing him doesn’t give him the right to kiss you,” Joe says quietly. “He assaulted you today. In front of a coworker. There are laws in place to protect you from that.”
“He didn’t mean to,” I say in quick defense.
Joe starts to explain, “Sandy, intention doesn’t matter—”
“I’m not blaming him,” I interject.
Joe and Dillon share a look I can’t decipher. They just don’t understand.
“I know he feels safe,” Dillon says. “Something known, something that even after pushing you away has always come back. Someone you can count on in some fashion.”
“He does,” I confirm. I give Dillon a grateful nod, he understands.
“I’m just helping to reason out your emotions, Sandy. I’m not condoning Amorino’s actions. I agree with Joe on this. He isn’t a good person and you need to get out from under his thumb. That was assault, in front of a witness, and you should be reporting him.”
“I don’t like him either,” Joe adds. “I should have punched him that first time he came to your place. I knew something was off.”
“You don’t need to defend me,” I say. “Amorino wouldn’t hurt me. I’m already looking at options to move on … as soon I can get out of this stupid contract.”
“He’s already hurt you.” Visibly annoyed, Joe asks, “How can you still defend him?”
“You want to move …?” Dillon asks at almost the same time.
I chose to ignore Joe. His words ring with an uncomfortable truth.