Somebody Else's Sky (Something in the Way 2)

A guy I recognized from the apartment above mine came down the outdoor stairs and toward us. “You selling this?” he asked, admiring the TV stand.

Gary shook his head. “Nah. We just made it.”

“No shit.” He cocked his head to see the front. Just to make Tiff happy, I’d crafted two glass portholes on the cabinets. She wasn’t kidding about the nautical theme, and had been adding seashells and shit all around the apartment.

“Can I buy it off you?” he asked. “Our furniture’s falling apart and my girlfriend’s been bugging me to take her shopping. You’d be saving my ass.”

I took the cigarette from my mouth, letting it burn between my fingers. Fuck. I needed the money, but I knew how much Tiffany wanted this done. Plus, I’d personalized it for her. “Gotta save my own ass first. I need it for my place,” I said. “But I can make you one, no problem.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “I’ll pay a premium, just so I don’t have to spend the day furniture shopping.”

Gary and I exchanged a look. The reclaimed wood from a boatyard had cost hardly anything, and I certainly had the time. “Consider it done.”

“Cool.” He pointed above my apartment. “I’m there. 2B.”

“My girlfriend and I are the place below you,” I said as we shook hands.

Gary and I took the entertainment center into the apartment. Tiffany walked in with a shopping bag as we were hooking up the TV.

“Finally,” she said. “Now I don’t have to strain my neck to watch Melrose Place.”

I got off the carpet, brushing off my hands on my jeans. She came over to kiss me, slipping me the tongue even though I’d told her lots of times how much I hated public displays of affection. “It looks nice,” she said about the unit. “Those windows are cool. Did you boys have fun?”

“Sure did,” Gary said. “Where’ve you been?”

“Work.” She dropped the word like an anvil and set a Nordstrom bag on the breakfast bar. “I bought myself a present.”

“Tiff,” I said, not bothering to hide my irritation. “In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a lot of disposable income.”

“You don’t,” she corrected.

“Neither of us do. Just because our rent is covered doesn’t mean we’re off the hook. If you have extra cash, you should be giving it to your dad.”

She waved me off. “I know, but it’s almost my one-year anniversary.”

“A year of what?” I asked.

“Working at Nordstrom.” She dug through the tissue and lifted a black, ruffled bra up to her chest. “What do you guys think?”

Gary’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Wow.”

“You like it?” she asked, smiling with one corner of her mouth. “Babe?”

“All right, you made your point.” I’d pissed her off with the money comment. If I was picturing her in the bra, so was Gary, and she knew it. “Put it away.”

She leaned over to Gary. “He gets jealous.”

I did not get jealous, not really. I just didn’t want to make Gary uncomfortable, and I sure as hell didn’t invite anyone into my sex life.

Gary’s pager beeped. “I’d better take off,” he said after checking it. “Lydia’s making me dinner tonight.”

“How’s it going with her?” Tiffany asked.

Gary shrugged. “Fine.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping the lingerie back into the bag. “What do you two even talk about when you’re together? Neither of you ever answer my questions with more than one word.”

I shook his hand. “You up to help with a coffee table?” I asked. “We could make it look like a dinghy, then top it with glass.”

“I’m in,” Gary said.

“Next week, then. Unless I get that job.”

“Job?” Tiffany asked once Gary had left.

“I might get on a crew,” I said. “No guarantee.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said. “That’ll be at least a few months of work, right?”

I went to the fridge for another beer. “I’d be replacing someone and coming in at the end. A couple weeks, maybe three.”

Tiffany followed me out of the kitchen to the couch. “Then what?”

She’d been bringing up the job thing more and more lately, and I didn’t blame her, but that didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it. “Keep looking.”

“What if you don’t find anything? You need something steady.”

“You got an idea?” I asked, gesturing at her with the remote. “I’m all ears.”

“Can’t you go see a headhunter or whatever?” she asked. “A recruiter?”

“I might, if I were cut out for a desk job. Or even if I thought anyone was open to hiring ex-cons.”

“You don’t know until you try. Maybe you’d like working in an office. It’d be better than sitting on your ass all day.”

“I don’t do that, and you know it,” I said. “I’m at the garage half the week. Word of mouth is everything in my industry. I have guys recommending me for jobs, but it takes time.”