5. Jagger
JAGGER
“ T he schedule is updated on the computer for next week. Also, you need to look over a set of contracts to see if any changes need to be made. Those can wait till Monday, though,” Joss tells me as she places a few folders on my desk.
We’re slowly converging everything digitally.
Our schedule has already been done, though we’re finding glitches in it, and I need to get Jude out here to take a look.
The next phase we’re slowly integrating is contracts—less paper, less filing, and hopefully less hassle, and not only for Joss, for everyone.
Our general contractors, project managers, and foremen will then be able to pull everything up on their tablet before too long.
The one downfall we’ve come across is plans.
Reading them on a ten-inch screen is damn near impossible, especially if you need to add a certain detail.
It’s a hell of a lot of scrolling and zooming in.
Another task for Jude. He’s been on me forever to make it into this century.
Telling him it wasn’t that simple didn’t help until he spent a day with Joss.
Then his mind worked, and he came up with a program of his own to work at Jagged Edge.
“Thanks, I’ll look over them today or tomorrow.
I’m still playing catch-up from last week, and no, you’re not on call this weekend.
Don’t answer your phone, don’t come in, and don’t think about work.
This place will be fine.” Joss pulled her weight big time last weekend while I was away.
The guys pitched in, but had it not been for her, I’m pretty sure we’d be behind on most of our projects.
“I hear you. I’ll silence it, but seriously, if you need me, don’t hesitate.
The only plans I have are to float around in my apartment pool, read gossip magazines, and eat my weight in chips and salsa.
” She doesn’t mince words at all, she doesn’t take my shit, and she sure as hell doesn’t take anyone else’s.
A few of the guys have tried to give her the run-around, but Joss put her foot down, stood tall, kept her shoulders back, and looked a man twice her size dead in the eye while telling him he better get his ass on the job site, or else.
I was in my office, ready to intervene, but she handled herself.
The employee stormed off, and when no one was around, I had a word with him myself.
He didn’t like what I had to say, therefor I gave him his marching orders.
Still, word got around, and ever since that day, no one has dared to piss Joss off.
“Sounds like you have a solid weekend.” I look up from taking a quick glance at the contracts, noting their names and which one is a priority.
“I do. Oh, that reminds me. We have an estimate on Monday morning. She dropped your mom’s name.
” That gets my attention. I move my mouse around to wake up the computer.
“Eleanor doesn’t give the company name out lightly or even suggests using her name, so I moved the client in right away.
Randy is the only one with availability. ”
“It’s all good. Get out of here, or you’ll never leave. Enjoy your weekend, and don’t answer the phone,” I remind her.
“Okay, okay. Don’t work too hard. I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.
” Joss waves as she walks out of my office, through the small room, and out the door.
I wait until the door slams closed before looking at the schedule.
I’m about to pull up the program to check who the mysterious person is my mom referred.
“Lucky me,” I mutter. My cell phone starts dancing around on my desk. The screen lights up, and I know there’s no ignoring this call.
I hit the accept button before pressing the speaker option. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, Jagger, you’ll never guess who I saw today.” I’d hazard a guess, except then she’d know my friends have been checking up on things and I’d have to answer questions I’m not ready to reply to yet.
“You got me there. Who?” My computer decides to finally pull the program up, and I’m once again reminded that I’ll need Jude over here soon.
“Lyric. You remember her, right? She lived next door. Her mom and I were good friends. Though, we lost touch. Life got busy and whatnot. Her father was a big to-do Marine. Anyways, the house next door is hers. She inherited it, and, honey, it needs a lot of work. I hope you don’t mind I gave her your number for an estimate.
” I puff out a breath of air. Of course, I remember Lyric Skye.
Kind of hard to forget the first girl you ever loved.
Motherfucking fuck.
I knew Lyric was here in Whispering Oaks. I also knew she’d been at my folks’ house. What I didn’t know was that Mom would throw us back together like this.
“Yeah, Mom.” I’m sure she can hear the tension in my voice.
“Well, honey, what was I supposed to do? Give her some two-blow joe’s number so he can screw her out of the money her parents left her?” I’ve gone and truly pissed her off, and all I said were two damn words.
“Give me the phone, Ellie,” I hear Dad mumble in the background. Well, my night just went from shit to shittier.
“He’s not being an asshole, just a grump,” Mom retorts. I muffle my chuckle.
“Jag, you there?” Dad is swift with his words.
“Yeah, I’m here. I already told Mom it was fine. Joss gave me the heads-up she referred someone. I was looking at the schedule when she sprung the news on me.”
“Alright, we’re all aware there’s a past but, bud, I saw the girl myself.
Boy, that girl has had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
The way your mom tells it, she came home from college to help and never went back, been taking care of one parent after the other.
” I already knew as soon as I saw Lyric’s name with Randy attached to the estimate order, I’d be taking over.
The last thing I want is to admit to myself why I’ve been ready to delete his name and input mine.
“I’ll take care of it. Mom didn’t let me get a word in before you came on.
I’ll call her tomorrow, see if I can’t meet her over there before Monday.
” A clawing takes ahold of my chest, rattling my cage, making me think all kinds of shit I don’t need to be reflecting on.
Thoughts that make me second-guess keeping my distance, putting the past where it belongs, in the past, and laying my eyes on her in the flesh.
The picture Jude showed me happened to be her driver’s license.
I don’t know one single person who has a decent picture attached to their identification, yet some-fucking-how, Lyric does.
“I knew you would. We’ll be around. Make sure you stop on by and bring Lyric around.
” I don’t respond, mostly because there’s a clanking going on, and I hear Mom say something to my father before he’s gone.
This call is going to take a lot longer than I expected, meaning getting out of here early is shot to shit.
I’m tempted to grab my laptop, the contracts, plans, and head home.
There’s one slight problem with my plan—I won’t stop until I’m falling asleep, and I’m talking head nodding only to smack myself in the head when I inherently conk out.
“Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you helping Lyric,” my mother says calmly into the phone. Apparently, she booted Dad out of the situation once she got her way. Classic Eleanor Steele moves right there.
“You’re welcome. I’ll let you know when I’m over your way. Am I good to get back to work now?” I ask.
“No, you’re not. Let me tell you what Lyric did today, which, by the way, she wouldn’t allow me to so much as lift a finger.
I had to watch as she went to town trimming the bushes, which she said was pointless because roses will be replacing them soon enough.
Then she trimmed back branches, grabbed a weed eater, and went to town in order to see to those massive pavers.
I feel bad we didn’t keep up with it more than we did.
Anyways, we fed her dinner, and now she’s back at the bed and breakfast.” She barely takes a breath before she’s back at it, “Your father told her she’d be doing a lot of this stuff for no good reason, especially once the work on the house starts.
Lyric shrugged her shoulders and said at least it wouldn’t be even more overgrown, and it gives her something to do besides sitting down.
That girl, well, I can’t wait for you to see her again.
” The giddiness in her tone means she’s up to something and what that is will be no good.
“Mom.” She continues carrying on about Lyric.
Talking about her features, the way she looks exactly like her mom, eye color, hair color, physical build, and what she wore today.
“Mom, stop.” I try to get her attention again.
She still doesn’t stop. My eyes close, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, placing my elbows on my desk.
I’m tempted to hit the end button, except I’d find myself in a world of trouble.
She already sicced Dad on me after I barely said two words.
I can only imagine what will happen next.
“Mom!” I bark louder than necessary.
“Goodness, Jagger, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” Gee, I can’t fucking imagine.
This whole week has been one thing after another, whether it’s with myself or with a childhood girlfriend who had no problem leaving me in the dust. The damn kicker of it all is, after seeing her picture, my cock can’t get with the program.
I’ve ignored it. Not once have I allowed my hand to get near it when it perks up at the thought of her. It’s made for a long-as-fuck few weeks.
“Nobody did. Yet. I’ve got to finish up a few things at the office.
Then I’ll make a call to Lyric tomorrow.
” I already knew I would. Randy’s name sitting there like a beacon, flashing on the screen, is doing nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me, inherently eating me up.
The anger I hold over Lyric makes me second-guess calling her tomorrow, but there’s my mom, hounding me, Dad getting in on it, and my own fucking conscience.
“Well, shoot, I’m sorry. I’ll let you go. If you think about it, text me when you make it home. I worry, you know.”
“It’s okay, and I’m well aware you worry. I’ll send you a message. Even though you or Dad never respond,” I appease her. When I’m out and she’s none the wiser, Mom doesn’t ask me to do this. Occurrences like these, well, they seem to hit differently.
“One day, we might, though. I love you, Jagger.” She gives me false hope over her use of technology. Hence her calling me from her landline this evening.
“I love you, too. Talk soon.” We hang up after that.
I don’t waste any time ending the call. I stand up, grab the files, my laptop, the keys to my truck, and the phone I was using seconds ago.
There’s no use staying in the office to work.
The quiet room does nothing to help me focus.
It didn’t before the call, and it still doesn’t now.
At least at home, there’s beer to drink and food to eat with a television that will no doubt have a game playing.
Anything sounds better than sitting at the office on a Friday night, alone.