"One of your guys fucked up my build over here on Aspenview."
"Fucked up how?"
"Used the wrong piece for a junction, no glue, I don't know, man, but it's fucked up. Caused a massive flood in the basement. I'm talking weeks to unfuck and tens of thousands of dollars in damage."
He sighs, the sigh turns into a cough, and then he hits his cigarette before answering. "Photos?"
"Incoming." I send him the photos and the videos, put it on speaker, and tug the cuffs of my jeans up to my knees.
He's silent as he peruses the images. “Jesus fucking Christ on crumbling cracker. That's the sloppiest shit I ever seen." A pause, keyboard keys clacking in the background. "Aspenview? Which one?" I repeat the house number for him, and he types some more. "That was…Abel's crew. Abel is one of my best, but he did have three guys quit a few weeks ago. Betcha fifty bucks it was a new guy."
"Well, whoever it was, it's a problem," I say.
"No shit," he says. "We got insurance for this, though. I’ll handle it. If you can see your way to trusting me again, I’ll give you a break on the next job."
"Just make sure you vet your crews better than this, Holden. This wasn't complicated plumbing. This shouldnothave fuckin' happened."
Another snorting exhale. "Yeah, I hear ya, Fee. My agent'll be contacting you. We'll get it fixed, and I'll find who did it and what else he may have worked on. If he fucked that up, who knows what else he fucked up."
I feel like someone slugged me in the gut. "Fuck, Holden. I hadn't considered that."
"Been in business for thirty-five years, Felix. Seen it all."
"'Preciate you, Holden."
"You too, Felix. Later."
"Later." I punch the end call button and only just barely resist the urge to hurl my phone across the lawn—it's in an OtterBox, so it'd survive fine, but I don't feel like slogging over there to get it.
So. Now what? Back to the site? I should, but I'm soaking wet, irritated, angry, hungry, and I just don't feel like it. Fuck it—I'll take a real Saturday. Maybe even go fishing.
I call Riley—he answers right before it would have gone to voicemail. "Hey, bro. What's shakin'?"
"Shitty fuckin' day all of a sudden, Rye, that's what. What are you up to?"
"I'm in Petosky with April."
"Oh. Alright then, never mind."
"What?"
"I just don’t feel like going back to the site, so I was gonna see if you wanted to go fishing."
"Fishing?" He says it like I suggested parachute-free skydiving. "Fee, my brother, youhatefishing."
"Yeah, I know. I just…"
"You suck at relaxing," he says, finishing where I trailed off. "You wouldn't know a real day off if it bit you in the ass."
I chuckle. "You're not wrong. Also, who the hell is April? Flavor of the month?"
"Oh, fuck off, Fee. Don't be a dick." He says something muffled, then comes back to me. "You need a social life. A girlfriend. Something."
"I know. Well, have fun in Petosky with April. See you Monday."
"I'll be back later. We could grab some brews tonight."
"Sure, sounds good. Hit me up whenever. I'll probably be, I dunno, sorting paperwork or something."
