Page 63 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

IN THE FROZEN MUD

Alix

It tells you something that I was glad to go to work on Tuesday morning.

Foggy, aching, and slow with fatigue, sure, after that night, followed by an absolutely grim visit to a funeral home with a nearly silent Sebastian and no Ben, who walked Lexi at a dog beach instead and, I hoped, breathed in the sea and the sky and the romping dogs and took some comfort from them.

After that, a commercial flight home where nobody said much, followed by not the best sleep I’d ever had, and you can imagine that I was relieved to turn my attention to something else for a while.

When I got off work, I’d pack a bag and head back to Sebastian’s, but right now, I needed to clear my head.

I hadn’t reckoned with a cold snap that made me feel achier than ever, and like I’d never get warm again, not to mention LouAnn and Royce and every other member of my crew.

Every time I got anywhere close, it seemed, somebody was asking about the game, and at this moment, when I was checking the wiring of the fire suppression system on a substation, LouAnn was asking, “So does Sebastian think they’ll win this week? ”

“No idea,” I said, and kept tugging wires. “Not the kind of thing you ask.”

“They won’t win,” Carlton said, wielding a screwdriver to do the delicate work he was, oddly, the best at. “Against the Ravens? They just lost to them a few weeks ago.”

“In overtime,” I found myself saying. “By three points.”

Carlton said, “Trailed the whole game until then, though, and the Ravens ran away with their game last week. Every game the Devils have played lately has been a 50-50 or worse. They’ve overperformed, sure, but sooner or later, reality catches up.”

I said, “You mean you bet against them and lost. Maybe that’s on you.” Then stopped, breathed, and said, “We have a lot to get done here. Let’s get back to work.”

LouAnn said, “I was just asking.”

“And I answered,” I said. “And told you I don’t know.”

A ding from my phone, and I pulled off my gloves. Carlton looked at me pointedly, and I ignored him and said, “Hey, Howard. What’s up?”

“Come see me at the office,” he said.

“Be there in five.” I shoved the phone back into my pocket and said, “LouAnn, you’re it until I get back. But everybody had damn well better be working when I do.”

I was pretty sure I heard somebody mutter, “Tightass,” as I walked away, but I didn’t stop to check. I slogged across what felt like acres of concrete and half-frozen mud to the office, opened the trailer door, and said, “You wanted to see me?”

Howard had been bent over a drafting table. Now, he straightened and said, “Yeah. Have a seat.” And frowned.

I did, but I didn’t take off my jacket or hard hat, even though it was warm in here. It seemed like too much trouble. I also didn’t have the bandwidth for whatever this was, yet here we were. I doubted I’d been summoned to hear about my promotion. That wasn’t how this felt.

“OK,” I said. “I’m here. What can I do for you?” A little combative, you’re thinking, but that’s how I was feeling. Just let me get the work done so I can go home, I felt like saying. It was only two, and I still had three long hours to go.

“You put in for more time off,” Howard said.

“Yes.”

“You took two days off this week. I didn’t want to give them to you, but I did, against my better judgment. And now this. Who the hell do you think you are? This isn’t summer camp or a sorority party. It’s a serious job with a serious deadline. If you can’t handle it …”

He’d raised his voice, but I’d been working with men for a long time. I kept my voice even. “I realize that. Would you rather I’d called out instead? I didn’t do that, because I’d have put you in a bind. I thought it’d be better for you to be able to plan.”

“It would’ve been better,” Howard said, “for you to be here.”

Did I explain? Did I apologize? No. Somehow, I was saying, “And yet people occasionally need time off, especially when they’re working six days a week. What’s this really about? Because something’s sure frosted your Wheaties today. You getting friction from upstairs, or what?”

He stared at me. “Excuse me?”

I sighed. “OK, that was out of line. Let’s try again.

I know this is inconvenient and that I didn’t schedule it in advance, because I didn’t know I’d need the time.

On the other hand, I’m no slacker, and you have to know it.

I’ve been busting my butt out there, and if you’ve got teams more productive than mine, I don’t know who they are.

I do know that my team has the lowest defects rate and the best safety record on this project, and I’m damn proud of that.

None of them has quit, either, which makes us unique, the way people come and go on this job.

Look,” I went on as he continued to frown at me, “it’s a couple of weeks here, then it’s over.

My boyfriend—Sebastian Robillard—is in the NFL playoffs. With the Devils.”

“I know who he is,” Howard said. “I saw him, remember? I just don’t see what he has to do with my project.

If you think you can slack off because he’s an investor, you can forget it.

That isn’t how this works. There’s a whole lot more money on the line here than just his, and you don’t get to play Electrician Barbie for your boyfriend on the company dime.

You were supposed to come back at noon yesterday, and that one, you did call out for.

And missed another half day. This is bullshit, and I’m not having it. ”

I should have told him about Solange, but first, it would have sounded like an excuse, and second, I didn’t feel like it.

I said, “Yes. That happened. Unavoidable complication. And also yes, I’d like a day off on Saturday, too, to get to Baltimore, and a half day Monday morning, because it’s a long way back.

After that? If the Devils make it to the Super Bowl, I’ll need to get home from Vegas the next day, and that would make me a couple hours late to work.

But you know a good twenty percent of these guys are going to call out the day after the Super Bowl or be hungover if they do get here.

At least you’ll know about me ahead of time. ”

Howard’s face was getting red now. “I don’t give time off for dates.”

I said, “And you’re not the only job in town.” Yes. Way too much temper.

He stared at me. I stared back, because I was so done with stuff like this.

My crew was the best, and those were the only days or even hours off I’d taken.

I hadn’t called out on Saturday morning saying I had the flu and left him in the lurch, and you bet there’d been a rash of callouts and hangovers after Christmas and New Year’s.

Including some foremen. But none from my crew.

We’d been the ones picking up the slack.

Howard said, “It’s one thing when a guy’s wife is having a baby or something.” Dialing it back.

“You’re right,” I said. “That outranks my request, and I should’ve explained the situation to you from the start. That’s on me. And yet I’m still requesting it.”

He picked up some papers, shuffled them, knocked them together, and said, “These better be the last times.”

I said, “Well, as it’s the playoffs, I expect they will be.” I thought about my grandmother’s request and how I hadn’t even scheduled anything with her yet, and my heart sank a little. I couldn’t plan for that right now, though.

Howard looked up again. “Don’t threaten to quit if you don’t mean it.”

“Good to know,” I said. “And here’s something for you to know. I meant it. And now I’m going back to work. We’re ahead of schedule again, so you know.”

With that, I walked out.

Hey, I’d tried to keep my head down and just get it done today. But I wasn’t actually Queen Elizabeth, and my stiff upper lip was bending.

More Prince Philip, possibly. Well, he had been my third cousin twice removed, so maybe I came by my unfeminine temperament naturally. Also, I may have had more aversion than the average woman to getting pushed around. That was why I lived in a trailer. So if anybody tried it, I could drive away.

On the other hand, it’s not a great idea to walk through frozen mud when you’re distracted, exhausted, and pissed off. Especially if you have a bleeding disorder.

Sebastian

It was nearly seven, and Alix wasn’t here. I’d texted her forty-five minutes ago, asking, What do you want to eat? She hadn’t answered, and I’d called a half hour ago and got voicemail. Now, I was getting worried.

Ben looked up and asked, “When’s dinner?

” He’d been parked on the couch all day with Lexi sprawled across him, with the exception of a walk I’d shoved them out the door to take.

He’d also been completely withdrawn, no surprise, and I couldn’t say it had been my own best day ever.

I was looking forward to getting back to work tomorrow, to be honest, and letting Thomas take over.

Not starting out great on the guardian-as-parent deal, but what were you going to do.

I said, “I was waiting for Alix. Guess I’ll call for it now.”

Ben sat up, blinking some, and said, “Burgers?”

“No. Not going to work for me, not with the game on Sunday.”

“Man,” Ben said, “can’t we ever have burgers? Also, pizza has vegetables and protein. And carbs. You’re supposed to have carbs for exercise.”

“When the season’s over,” I said, “I’ll have a burger. It’s the playoffs. It’s kind of important.” I finished my one-click dinner shopping—I was going to have to up my cooking skills in the offseason—and hesitated with my finger over Alix’s name.

Ben asked, “How come Alix isn’t here? I thought she was coming over after?—”

The sound of the door, and Lexi jumped off the coach and headed out there, tail wagging. I put my phone away and headed around the corner myself. And stopped dead.

She was hanging up her coat after dumping her suitcase, then sitting on the bench to get her shoes off with Lexi in her face.

Yoga pants, T-shirt, ponytail. Moving way too stiffly, and I could swear she winced when she sat down.

She also had that paleness going on and those shadows under her eyes again.

I said, “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you answer me? ”

Possibly too sharply, because she said, “I was busy.” Warily. She tried a smile, and a “How are you doing? And Ben? You guys been OK?” She pushed off the bench, and that looked too hard.

I said, “What happened?”

“I’m tired,” she said, “same as you. My period’s about to start, too, so I’m feeling pretty achy. I’ll sleep in the office tonight so I won’t keep you awake.”

I squinted at her, because that wasn’t all I was getting. “What’s going on with your legs, or your back, or whatever it is? What don’t you want to tell me?”

She sighed. “I’m—” Then didn’t go on. Like she was stuck.

I went back into the living room and told Ben, who was watching his movie again, “The food’ll be here in about fifteen. Go down for it when they call, will you?” and handed him a twenty from my wallet. “Tip.”

“They must love coming here,” he said, showing the first animation he had all day. “With how you tip.”

I didn’t answer, because Alix was there, sitting beside Ben but not touching him, saying, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said.

“I had kind of a rough day,” she said. “I bet it wasn’t any picnic for you, either. The first day’s weird. Like you’re back to your life, except you’re not.”

He looked away and pleated the throw between his fingers. “Yeah.”

I said, “Come talk to me, Alix.”

Ben said, “You’re kidding. You’re going to have another big angsty talk? My mom just died yesterday! Can’t you give it a rest? ”

I said, “Look at Alix.”

“I am looking at her.”

“Does she look good to you?” I asked.

Alix said, “Hey.”

Ben said, “Geez, dude. Way to make her feel better.”

“She’s hurting,” I said. “Could you make her a cup of tea, please? Put some milk in it like she likes and bring it to my room. I’m going to grab an ice pack.”

Ben stopped looking at the TV and looked at Alix instead. “What? You’re sick again?”

“I’m fine,” she said, “and everybody can stop fussing. My mom didn’t just die.

My mom, in fact, texted me twice today. I now have a full list of banks with available safe-deposit boxes within a twenty-mile radius of downtown Portland, with helpful links, and I also have a breakdown of the Portland burglary rate by neighborhood.

The Pearl District gets an F grade for property crime, so you know, and as the cherry on top, Cascade Locks, where my trailer is, gets a D-minus for violent crime.

So glad I know that. I’m not saying I wish she’d die, but I sure wish she’d lay off.

To put the icing on the cake, my boss gave me a hard time today, and I didn’t exactly respond according to the military code of conduct. ”

“Huh?” Ben asked.

“I was mildly insubordinate. Or possibly not so mildly. Which still doesn’t rise to any kind of crisis, but I don’t care. I just want to go to bed until it’s tomorrow.”

“And you can,” I said. “Right now. Let’s go.”