Chapter 12 Wesley
Wesley
“How you getting on, Jake?” It’s his fourth day on site, and the lads have really taken to him.
He’s starting to come out of his shell more each day. You can tell there’s a cheeky streak in there, along with his growing confidence. His dad called me to ask honestly how he was getting on and to keep it between me and him. I was honest, he’s doing great.
Today he’s on a practice run, helping Dillan lay bricks for a temporary wall. It’s not perfect, a bit rough, but decent for his first time. I’ve always said I’ll give them different jobs; nobody wants to be standing around doing the same job every day, especially the younger generation.
“I think it’s alright, boss.” He’s taken to calling me ‘boss’ instead of using my name.
He’ll be moaning about me soon enough. I've heard every one of them complain at least once or twice this week. “The boss gives me all the shit jobs.” Or “Do we have to work on Saturday?” But they’re all smiles when they get a couple of hundred pounds bonus on top of their wages.
Then I’m the best boss in the fucking world.
Crouching down to check his work. “Use your spirit level on every brick, mate,” I explain, and he listens as I go over why it’s important to use the level so the wall doesn’t end up wonky.
I’m midway through explaining when Alfie comes over with his usual swagger. “Wes?” I stand up and face him, he’s fidgeting on the spot, laces on his boots undone.
“Frank sent me over for a long weight, but I can’t find it.” He’s deadly fucking serious.
Glancing over my shoulder, there’s Frank, bent over in a fit of laughter, cigarette clinging to his dry lips.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath, quiet enough only I can hear it.
I shake my head, catching a glimpse of Dillan and Jake both snickering.
I’ve been in Alfie’s shoes before, it’s all part of the fun, workplace banter at its best. Frank’s still a fucking kid at heart, he lives for this, winding the lads up and they love it too.
He has them all in stitches, especially when he’s in one of his grumpy moods, because his Mrs is trying to convince him to quit smoking.
Before she realises, he’s hiding outside of a night having a crafty smoke.
“Alf, see that bloke over there?” I nod towards Frank, who’s still chuckling. Alf rubs the back of his neck, looking over at Frank, then back at me.
The penny still hasn’t dropped.
“Right, I’m going to tell you a list of things I want you to remember, okay?” He nods, but he’s still not getting it. I’m going to have to spell it out for him.
“If Frank tells you to fetch a long weight… don’t,” I carry on.
“And it includes tartan paint or bubbles for spirit levels.” I shake my head, meeting his eyes, trying my hardest not to laugh.
I’m going to kill Frank for this. “Just don’t listen, alright?
” Resting my hand on his shoulder, levelling my eyes with his.
“You’ve just been sent on a fool’s errand.
” Laughter erupts across the yard, proper belly laughs.
Even Alfie joins in before spinning round and shouting. “Fuckers.”
I point to his boots. “Make sure you do them up before you come on site,” I call over my shoulder as I head towards the porta-cabin.
Once inside, the smell of stale smoke mixed with the warm air reminds me why I don’t spend much time here.
My thoughts drift back to Shannon and how she had to sit in here smelling it.
I need to apologise for the stench as well as a list of other things I need to say sorry for.
My phone chimes from the desk, where I’d left it earlier.
My stomach twists when I notice the name on screen.
“Yeah, just what I need.” The thought of speaking to her makes my chest tighten.
Dropping in the chair, I exhale a deep breath and swipe the screen.
“What?” I say, through gritted teeth.
“Did you receive my solicitor’s letter?” Megan’s voice is sharp enough to slice me open.
“Nope.”
“Well, you should have received it by now,” she grumbles in her usual spiteful tone. I don’t know why she’s calling; the whole reason she has a fucking solicitor is so he can call me.
I said no contact.
“Why are you calling me?” I deadpan.
“I don’t want us to fall out over money, Wesley.” I just realised I can’t stand the way she says my name, Wes-leee. It’s fucking Wesley, or even better, Mr Parker, is what I want to say.
“You’re a little late. You made the decision the day you fucked one of my mates,” I fire back with both barrels.
Megan gasps. “Do you have to be so uncouth?” She’s having a fucking laugh.
“Like the day I caught you with your dress around your waist in a dirty fucking warehouse?” My voice rises, she can’t be phoning me with her demands.
“I think that was very uncouth, don’t you?
” She mumbles something down the line, but I’ve mentally checked out.
Every time I have to deal with her, my mood spirals out of control.
It’s like a switch, one only she has the key to.
“There’s just no reasoning with you.” She hangs up the phone at the same time as I toss mine down.
Pulling out the same card as always, looking for someone to blame other than herself. Leaning forwards, I plant my elbows on the desk, my head buried in my hands. I want this all to be over, it’s exhausting. There’s a single knock at the door, and Declan walks in, not waiting for an invitation.
“Fucking hell, did you have a night on the piss?” And honestly, a drink doesn’t sound too bad right now. I look at Declan, the man’s well put together. Doubt he’s ever had problems where women are concerned.
“I bet you had it easy with women, didn’t you?” I scoff because I can’t believe I’m even asking him.
“You’re joking, right? Ashley fucking hated me.” He snickers, like he’s thinking back to some memory. “But she’s coming around.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret, about me and my darling future wife,” he says it like he’s about to reveal the answers to a perfect relationship.
“I’m still trying to convince her.” What?
They’re not together? He nods, and I watch him closely, trying to work out if he’s serious.
“It’s true. She’s still trying to fight me,” he says, glancing around, lost in thought.
“I don’t get it either mate.” His face twists up into disgust. “I mean, so what if I pursued her? I thought by now she’d be into me.
” My mouth drops open, the way he’s talking about her, I thought they were engaged. Happy together.
I’m building them a house, for fuck’s sake. I throw up my hands. “Woah… are you telling me you’re not even engaged?” I lean in, needing to hear every word.
“Slow down mate, she’s still trying to come to terms with the fact she’s mine.
” He scoffs, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Come on, I don’t want to scare her off.
” Can he hear himself? Jesus, Declan’s completely obsessed and he’s not in the slightest bit bothered.
I thought my jealousy over Shannon was bad, but Declan is totally fucking unhinged, I can see it in his eyes.
“She keeps trying to push me away,” he adds with a shrug. “But it’s not working.”
There’s a hint of disbelief in his tone, like he can’t quite believe she doesn’t want to be with him.
He pulls up a chair and rests his hands on his knees. “She got into a bit of trouble before I knew her.”
I lean back in my chair, my fingers laced behind my head. “And what happened?” I’m intrigued.
“She floored me, mate. Knocked me to my knees, stopped my fucking heart.” By the smile on his face, I know he doesn’t mean in the literal sense, he means the same way I felt the second my eyes landed on Shannon a year ago.
I was a goner.
But I’ve not thought about stalking her, and I sure as hell won’t drag her into my shit, despite my feelings.
Declan sighs. “I wasn’t always like that. I was a fucker at the start. Who is your lucky one?” he asks, I blow out a breath.
I might as well tell him. “My ex-wife left, as you know, we eventually divorced. It’s been a while.”
Declan slaps a hand on his thigh. “You’ve met someone, but you’re holding back?”
He’s hit the nail on the head.
“She’s… my neighbour.” I don’t tell him everything.
At the end of the day, he’s sort of my boss, paying me to build his new home.
He expects a job well done. The last thing I want is to give him any reason to doubt me, plus I doubt his advice would be take your time and talk to her and win her over.
He will probably tell me to just take her.
“There’s a reason she’s living next door to you; it’s called fate.
” I’ve never been a believer in fate, but I’m not about to tell the man who’s going to great lengths to make the woman he’s obsessed with to be his.
Even if I think there’s more to Declan’s story than he’s letting on.
Isn’t falling in love supposed to happen naturally?
He pushes up from the chair and slips his hands into his pockets.
“If you want this woman, don’t give up.” Declan shakes his head, his cheesy fucking grin creeping across his face.
He turns and walks away, no doubt catching up with Frank.
After the day I’ve had, I’d already made my mind up that I was opening the bottle of blue label scotch my dad had saved for special occasions, which was basically any excuse he could find to open a bottle.
I stretch out in his old leather recliner, swirling the amber liquid around the glass, with a pile of mail stacked on my knees.
Bills and junk mail, no doubt, but one has me clutching the glass with far more strength than I should. I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered in my hand.
Fucking Megan’s solicitor, telling me I have thirty days to make a payment to them on behalf of Mrs Megan Parker.
She still hasn’t changed her name.
She lost the privilege of keeping my name the day she cheated.
Downing the large glass of scotch, I grab the bottle and refill the glass.
I need to call her.
Talking to her once a month is enough, but twice in one day is a fucking headache.
I tap her name, holding the phone to my ear, preparing to hear the whiny tone of her voice.
“Wes-lee, twice in one day? I am a lucky girl.” You’re the fucking she-devil, is what I want to say, but my mother brought me up to respect women, so I keep the words to myself and repeat them in my head.
Over and over.
“I got the letter. What’s this about the fucking deadline?” I try to keep my calm. I don’t want to give her any more ammo to keep firing bullets.
“There’s no need to be rude, Wesley. Your dad named me in the Will.” He wouldn’t have left you a fucking penny if he’d known what she did.
“Anyway, my solicitor and I think thirty days is fair.” Her solicitor is a fucking knobhead.
“Yeah, well, at least you can pre-book your next holiday.” I don’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, I hang up the phone.
I’m done with everything today.