Chapter 17
Elias
I adjust my hard hat, wiping the sweat from my brow as I look over the foundation plans spread across the makeshift plywood table. The July sun beats down relentlessly, not mixing well with the humid air.
“These support beams need to be reinforced here and here,” I say, pointing to the blueprint. “The soil composition in this area won’t hold otherwise.”
Derek, the foreman, leans in, brows furrowed. “That’s gonna add at least two days to this project and we’re already a week behind.”
“Better two days now than a structural failure later,” I reply. “I’m sure your boss would agree.”
My phone vibrates against my hip, cutting off our work conversation.
I pull it out and glance at the screen.
“Excuse me,” I say, stepping away from the table and toward a quieter area of the site.
I answer the call, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
My mother responds, her voice carrying that familiar, gleeful edge.“Elias, how’s the J. James office space coming along? Are you still in town?”
I let out a breath, then reply, “It’s slightly behind schedule. But I’d take that over it collapsing in a few months.”
“Good. I’m very glad it’s all going well. But you didn’t answer my question.” She presses.
I shake my head and reply, “Yes, I’m still in town.”
“Wonderful. I was thinking we could grab dinner tonight around seven. My treat?”
If I say no, she’ll pester the shit out of me until I cave anyway.
“You know I can’t say no, Mom.”
She says her goodbyes and hangs up just as one of the cranes lifts a steel beam up to the second level, metal groaning as it locks into place.
I hang up and head back over to where Derek is standing.
“The boss checking in?”
“If you consider my mother our boss, then yes.” I reply as I place my phone down on the table. “Now, these load-bearing walls.”
I point at the blueprint again, tracing the lines as I explain where everything needs to go, what needs to be adjusted, and how long it’ll take to get it right.
This part has always been easy for me.
Understanding structure.
Pressure.
Weak points.
Where things tend to break.
My phone lights up again.
My pulse raises slightly, but I don’t let it show as I pick up my phone, reading the Discord message.
BloodLust2:
We need to talk.
I press the side of my phone, killing the screen.
“Everything good?” Derek asks.
“Supplier update,” I reply, sliding my phone into my back pocket. “Let’s finish this.”
I leave the site later than I wanted.
By the time I’m on my way to meet my mother for dinner, the sun is already starting to set.
The drive to the restaurant is easy due to the weekday traffic, nothing like the chaos of the weekend.
I stop at a red light and glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
I don’t look as bad as I was expecting.
A little dust still clings to my shirt, a faint layer of it settled onto the fabric, but nothing noticeable. My dark hair’s still decently in place, and my face is clean enough to not draw too much attention.
Mom shouldn’t complain too much, but I adjust my collar slightly anyway, just in case.
The light turns green.
The restaurant comes into view not long after; it’s nothing special. A local Mexican place with warm lighting pouring out of the windows and a steady flow of people going in and out. Laughter spills out every time the door opens.
It’s loud and busy for a weekday, but they’re probably having happy hour on margaritas.
I park, step out, and smooth a hand down the front of my shirt out of habit before heading inside.
The smell hits the spot immediately; fajitas and tortilla chips. It clings to the air as I walk toward the middle of the restaurant in search of my mother.
Conversations overlap, plates clatter and a low, rhythmic salsa track fills the space.
I scan the room once and find her instantly.
My mom’s already looking my way like she’s been waiting for me to walk in, and the second she spots me, she lights up.
Actually lights up.
She stands before I even reach the table.
“There he is,” she says, stepping forward and pulling me into a hug.
“Hi, Mom.”
She pulls back, her hands still on my arms like she’s making sure I actually made it here in one piece from the construction site.
“You look tired,” she says immediately.
“I’m fine.”
I turn to Tom, extending my hand and he shakes it without hesitation.
I sit down, adjusting slightly as my eyes move across the table and extra seats.
I lean back just a bit, resting my arm against the back of the chair.
“Why’d you guys get a table this big?” I ask, glancing between them. “It’s just the three of us, right?”
My mom’s smile doesn’t disappear as she glances past me and calls out, “Cora! Irene! How lovely to see you again.”
I turn my head around, following her gaze.
I lift my hand in a casual wave, masking it with something friendly while I try not to question what the fuck is going on.
They don’t stop talking by the time they reach the table. It just rolls right into something else; vacation spots, complaints about how their oldest kids still haven’t given them grandchildren.
I pick up the menu, trying to decide on what to eat, while I half-listen to everything they’re saying.
There’s movement beside me.
The chair to my right scrapes lightly against the floor as someone takes a seat.
I don’t look right away.
I let my eyes stay on the menu for a second longer, before finally glancing up toward the person.
I lean in slightly and whisper, “Funny meeting you here.”