Page 70 of Reclaimed Dreams
He didn’t care if it would piss off his aunt’s friend’s cousin. This guy might have office skills, but a leader of men he was not. Dom wouldn’t fire him right away, but he was done giving chances. Glenn, however, was done. Not only was Glenn’s bailing to go on a bender affecting Dom’s professional reputation as a builder who got things done on time and under budget. No, now it was impacting his family life as well.
Dom sighed deeply again, because he knew he would have to pick up the slack and go through the torturous hiring process again. Damn it. If he hadn’t been burned so badly, he’d hire an office manager too. They desperately needed someone to help with the invoices and deposits. But if this was what he got hiring crew recommended by people he knew, Dom was reluctant to trust the process to find him someone he’d trust to handle his income.
And none of that changed the fact that Dom would be working late, again.
That drywall needed to be mudded tonight so that the sanding could get done tomorrow, or they’d lose the whole weekend. Dom didn’t mind paying overtime to get a job done right when they were battling issues beyond their control like shipping delays or broken tiles. But paying extra to cover the incompetence of someone he’d just paid? Hell no.
“I’m on my way.”
“Wait, you don’t have to come over here.” Chad’s voice wavered, and Dom’s Spidey senses tingled. “Doesn’t Gabe have a little league game?”
“Yeah, he does. And because this asshole can’t keep his head out of the bottle, and you can’t keep him on the job, I’m going to miss it.”
“Dom—”
“I said I’m on my way.” Dom slammed the receiver down on the cradle and swore.
He’d only stayed late in the office to try and wade through some paperwork since Tony was out. If he’d been ten minutes faster, he could have avoided that phone call completely. Part of him wished he didn’t know about the problem because then at least he could have enjoyed his son’s baseball game. But the job would have still been fucked whether he’d gotten the call or not, and that was bad for business.
Being the sole provider for their family on top of running his own business meant that shirking on the business was shirking on his family, and that he could not tolerate. Even if Gabe would be disappointed in the short term.
If he didn’t get the invoices done, no money would come in. If no money came in, they couldn’t meet payroll. If he couldn’t pay his guys their salary, he couldn’t pay his either. And Gabe had needed new baseball cleats, along with a pair of tap shoes for Sofia. The other two babies would be getting into the mix soon enough. He had a short window to make this work, or he’d have to give up on this dream and go back to working for someone else.
Some days he actively longed to go back to juggling a full-time construction and part-time landscaping gig like he had when Gabe was born. Had he been exhausted? Absolutely, but at the end of the day he’d been done. No constant worrying. No putting out fires. Nobody else’s career depending on his. He had severely underestimated the challenges of running a business with his brother.
Still, he’d do what needed doing. He’d taken the call at five o’clock on a Friday, and he’d be the one to clean up the mess.
Shuffling all the invoices and receipts into a hasty pile, Dom cursed math and swore he’d get to it tomorrow morning. He pulled up the hours Glenn had worked this week and wrote out a business check to cover it. He’d figure out the taxes and stuff later, or more likely he wouldn’t, but as of right now, Glenn was no longer employed by Valenti Brothers.
He left a message on the home machine letting Jo know what was going on, and he drove to the Pit, Glenn’s preferred dive. Sure as shit, there he sat, ponied up to the bar, several empties littering the mahogany counter in front of him.
“Hey there, Glenn. Heard you had an appointment. You okay?”
“Yeah, Dom, I’m good. Here, let me buy you a round. What are you drinking?” Glenn waved over the bartender, completely oblivious to the rage simmering under Dom’s skin. “Hey Gary, get my boss here whatever he’d like, on my tab.”
“Your tab is maxed out until you come back with some cash, Glenn.” The long-suffering bartender rolled his eyes at Dom, who nodded back.
“Gary, was it? Let me ask you a question. What time did Glenn roll in here today?”
“About four fifteen.”
Glenn’s gregarious face fell, and he began to backpedal. “You see, the doctor was running late, and I couldn’t see him today after all, but I was hurting, so I came in…”
Dom held up a hand to stop his rambling defense. “I don’t care.”
Glenn’s face sagged with relief for a moment before Dom started talking again.
“You see, you don’t work for me anymore. I can’t trust you to do the job you said you’d do. Here’s your last paycheck that covers the hours through today.” He laid the check on the bar, and tipped his head to Gary. “You might want to let him cash that here, so he can pay his tab.”
Gary picked up the check before Glenn could react. “That is an excellent idea. Can I get you a drink, sir? On the house?”
“No, thank you. I have to go finish mudding a family room. Goodbye, Glenn. Good luck.”
Dom turned and left, ignoring the spluttering expletives behind him.
He had no room in his life for incompetence. He couldn’t afford the time or the cost.
He glanced at his watch as he pulled into the job site’s driveway. If he hustled, hopefully he could still catch the last few innings. But one glance at the front yard killed that pipe dream. It was a spec house they were building, so no one lived there yet and the front yard was still a dirt patch. But that didn’t mean the crew could treat it like a dump site. Tools caked with plaster lay on the front walk, just waiting for someone to walk away with them. White swaths of plaster runoff colored the brown dirt where the crew had attempted to wash down, leaving an eyesore for the neighborhood. Collecting material as he went, Dom made a mental note to chat with the boys about washing up out back instead.
