Chapter 2
P resent Day….
He’d hit his thumb right on the fingernail. It was red and would soon turn black, but it wasn’t bleeding, and he hadn’t broken the skin. Hopefully he wouldn’t lose the nail.
He was a highly trained professional. How had he managed to whack himself with a hammer?
“Sorry, dude. I didn’t see you.”
Oh. Right. A young man with shaggy hair and a sheepish expression stood beside Tomas.
Wearing a hard hat and yellow safety vest, he looked like a carpenter but wasn’t quite there yet.
Tomas gave the accident-prone student a murderous glare.
“Gibson, put the phone in your pocket. This is a job site. Inattention causes accidents.”
He ground the words out when he really wanted to push the kid up against the drywall and whack him with a hammer.
Gibson’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he nodded. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and scuttled off, nearly knocking Vincent over in his haste to get away.
“And?” Vincent inquired with a raised eyebrow.
Tomas shoved his hammer into his toolbelt and rolled his eyes. “I hit my thumb when the kid bumped into me.”
“What’s the problem? You have two,” Vincent said with a grin.
Tomas flipped him the bird, which only made Vincent laugh.
“Seriously, do you think he’s going to make it?”
Tomas leaned against the drywall and crossed his arms over his chest. Vincent mirrored his pose and they both looked around at what would be a tiny house, but was now a skeleton.
Four students from Keeney Community College worked nearby, installing drywall that had been cut to conform with the window and door frames.
The thump of a nail gun and whine of a power saw provided background music for their industrious dance.
Tomas and Vincent taught construction and contracting to young adults for whom traditional schooling didn’t work.
Keeney Builds was a joint project between the college, a local non-profit named Keeney Works, and Keeney Building Supply, the company that employed both men as contractors and handymen.
Tomas and Vincent were uniquely suited as instructors because they’d both served time and could advise young people about the reality of living behind bars.
The program mixed classroom instruction, on-the-job training with KBS (both in the store and one-on-one with a contractor) and culminated in the entire class of twelve working together to build a tiny house from the ground up.
The houses were then delivered to a community that featured affordable housing.
“I sure as hell hope so. I’d hate to mess with our stats,” Tomas muttered.
Three classes of students had successfully completed the twelve-week program over the past year. All were now employed in their field, with one exception, and she was at home with a newborn.
“What’s the problem? I worked with him on a cabinet install, and the kid was good.”
Tomas shook his head and examined his still-throbbing thumb. “Lack of attention. Over the last two days, he’s been glued to his phone. I hate social media. People need to focus on the real world.”
“Sure, Grandpa.” Vincent shoved him with an elbow. He turned toward Tomas and said, “Maybe there’s something going on. It could be more than the newest posting on a gaming site.”
Tomas narrowed his eyes as he considered the comment.
The students gravitated toward Vincent, who smiled often and was generous with his praise.
He might know more about Gibson’s background.
Tomas and Vincent looked alike to the casual observer, both with copper skin, dark hair, and hard muscles.
Tomas’s stockier build, military-style haircut, and tattoos set him apart, as well as his perpetual scowl.
His demeanor did not invite casual conversation.
“Yes!”
They turned as one in the direction of the shout. Gibson careened around the corner with a face-splitting grin. “She got the job.” The smile dropped when he saw Tomas’s frown. “Um. My mom. She, um, has been out of work for a while. And had a job interview yesterday.”
Vincent smiled. “That’s good. Glad to hear it.” He thumped Gibson on the shoulder as he passed him. He turned and mouthed “See” to Tomas behind Gibson’s back.
Tomas glared in response, then tried to turn it into a more pleasant expression before speaking to Gibson. “Good stuff. You gonna be able to concentrate now?”
Gibson smiled broadly. “Absolutely,” he said, bouncing off to resume work.
A few days later, Tomas approached the conference table in the offices of Keeney Building Supply.
Less than two years ago, he would have been lining up for mealtime in the minimum-security prison where he served time for auto theft.
Now, he was about to eat a catered lunch with respected community leaders.
He picked his usual spot. Ali, the KBS operations director, to his left; Hilary, the CEO and Vincent’s wife, to his right at the head of the table; Vincent, directly across from him; his mother Marcia, the marketing director, to his right.
Iris, the owner of KBS, was absent. Meetings weren’t Tomas’s idea of a good time.
He’d rather be building something. Fortunately, the others at the table were like-minded, Hilary ran a meeting well, with no messing around, and there was food.
The downside to the Monday meetings was that Tomas felt like the odd man out.
Literally.
Newlyweds Vincent and Hilary constantly exchanged lingering looks in a nauseating display of affection.
Ali and Marcia were also a couple, although they maintained separate houses.
Tomas was sure that would change soon. It was impossible to miss Ali’s eyes lighting up when Marcia was around.
Tomas was happy for his friends, but still, the giggles and glances left him disgruntled.
He was reaching for a sandwich when Marcia grabbed his hand and stared at the bruise blooming under his thumbnail. “Ouch. How’d that happen?”
Tomas scowled, Vincent snorted, and Hilary made a sympathetic face.
“I thought you were a highly trained professional.” Ali elbowed him in the ribs. Tomas’s scowl deepened.
“You can razz him later. We’ve got a full agenda,” Hilary said, eyeballing her laptop. “First item: Iris is out of town, so someone needs to?—”
There was a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision. Tomas looked up from his meal to see Ali, Marcia, and Vincent touching their noses and wearing shit-eating grins. “What?”
“Not it!” they said in unison.
“What am I missing?”
Hilary rolled her eyes and gave Tomas a wry smile. “That means you get the honor of representing KBS at the next Keeney Works board meeting.”
Tomas’s eyes went wide before he glared at his coworkers. “Oh, hell no,” he muttered.
Iris McLeod owned KBS and, in the complicated relationship that combined the community college, Keeney Works, and Keeney Builds, sat on the board for all three. In her absence, a senior KBS employee took her place.
“I have to be somewhere else,” Tomas said.
“You don’t even know the date yet,” Marcia replied.
Ali and Vincent both had their mouths full and merely smiled.
“I’ll put the date, time, and location on your calendar,” Hilary said, then moved on to the next order of business.
Tomas pushed his plate away. He was no longer hungry.