Quadruple Duty

The office was a train wreck.

It was a small space Dawn and I shared downtown, the front end consisting of a couple of desks, computers, and a small kitchenette. Four unwashed coffee cups littered the sink, beside a too-full garbage pail my partner obviously couldn’t bother to drag to the dumpster behind the building. Looking down at the wrappers, I could see what she had for lunch yesterday. And the day before that, too.

“We’re gonna get flies again,” I sighed, as if she were actually there to hear it. My words would’ve fallen on deaf ears either way, though. Even when Dawn was here she usually procrastinated just long enough for me to do the cleanup. Asshole that I was, I always did.

I thought about this as I washed out the cups and tied off the garbage bag, which was just now beginning to smell. As a business partner Dawn certainly knew her stuff. She kicked ass at advertising — something I was never very good at — and knew the ins and outs of social media. But as a person to work side-by-side with…

The warehouse attached to the back of our space was much bigger than the front office, containing the many pieces we’d collected over the years. I strolled through there now, garbage in hand, glancing over what was in and out.

Shit!

The Santiago stuff was still there — all of it. Dawn hadn’t met the stagers. They hadn’t taken anything at all.

Absolutely furious I exited the back door, stomped across the small section of parking lot, and slammed the garbage as hard as I could into the dumpster. The sun was brutal today. Though it had just turned September, I still felt like June.

I pulled out my phone to call Dawn… then just as quickly put it away. At best I’d only get myself more worked up. At worst she’d come down to the office to meet me, and I didn’t want to deal with her at all right now.

Instead I called the stagers, who explained they’d been waiting on Dawn and had actually called several times with no luck. After some sweet talk and the promise of buying them lunch they agreed to come load the truck up later this afternoon. Which meant I had to hang around the office for a bit… rather than go back, have lunch outside, and walk around the lake like I’d wanted to.

“Seriously Dawn?” I sneered into the silent warehouse. I considered yelling at the top of my lungs — it was Saturday and nobody in the little industrial park would hear me — but rather than being cathartic I figured it would only get me more worked up.

Back up front, I retrieved the files and phone numbers I needed from my work computer in a matter of minutes. Then I sat down to wait out the staging truck. I considered making a pot of coffee. Kicking back with my legs up on my desk for a nap. It was way too hot though, and the air conditioning system always took an hour or so to kick in.

A half hour later I was pacing the room when I noticed two blue folders peeking out from the mess on Dawn’s desk. The labels printed on the tabs showed names I didn’t recognize. I felt a little like I was invading Dawn’s privacy, but I picked one up. I leafed through it…

What the—

It was a whole new project. A whole new two projects, actually. There were design layouts, detailed sketches, even a renovation proposal for each.

Wow!

Suddenly I felt like total shit. I’d been going off on my partner all morning for being lazy when she hadn’t really been lazy at all. If anything I’d been the one who was away, not carrying my weight. Dawn had been in here taking care of things — well, some things anyway — while I was gone.

The projects looked like good ones, too. Very lucrative, at a time when we really needed it. Certainly worthy of washing out a few coffee cups and taking out the garbage.

“Good job Dawn,” I yawned, kicking back to wait for the staging truck.

Roaming through the old mansion was exciting and historic, even alone. But at night?

At night the house came alive with sounds and smells.

I’d learned to enjoy the little ticks of the walls settling, the rattle of the old, lead-paned windows. Walking the carpeted halls late at night was like having an exotic sleepover. Like being transported back to the 19th century, when everything was hand-crafted with love and attention, and everything built to last.

I absolutely loved it. All of it… except for one thing:

No air conditioning.

Right now I was tossing and turning, trying to find a cold spot on the bed. I’d opened and closed the windows three times. Drank two glasses of ice water, but rather than cool me down they’d only made me go back and forth to the bathroom.

Only once I’d stripped myself down to absolutely nothing had it finally begun

to cool.

My body was sore. I’d spent most of the afternoon waiting for the staging truck, and half the evening helping them load it. Being the weekend, they were down two crew members. They’d even tried calling to bail on me, and the only way I could get them to come was to promise to help with the labor.

The boys hadn’t come home all night. I’d had dinner, watched a movie, and fallen asleep on the couch. By the time I dragged myself upstairs, it was pitch black outside.

Lying there naked now, I thought again about my situation. Kyle… Dakota… Ryan. As men their personalities were as different as they were complex. Each had his own distinctive traits, but so far everything I’d seen had been endearing.