Builder Chicks

BOBBIE

Not a day goes by when someone doesn’t need something from me.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to be needed, but sometimes I just would like to be left alone. Like right now.

My phone is ringing with my favorite song of the hour.

I really need to stop using songs I like.

A lot of the time, I won’t answer just so I can listen to them play out. Other times, I just don’t want to answer, and they just keep calling and calling, and I end up having to listen to them play out, over and over.

I could turn it off, but right now, it’s a little tricky.

I’m in a tree, my phone is on the ground, and there’s a bear somewhere around here.

This is sort of normal for me, unfortunately.

When I need some alone time, I take my van and hang out in the woods for a bit.

I spent years converting the van into a little home on wheels, so it’s not like slumming it, but it’s down there, there’s a bear, and I’m up here.

I see the van shifting as if something big and heavy just went inside.

Shit, he’s in there messing up my shit. I hope it doesn’t eat all my snacks. My stomach growls as if on cue.

I pat my tummy. “I know, little one, but the Takis are probably the first thing he’ll go for if he’s a smart bear.”

Maybe I can climb down and grab my phone. Beyoncé’s “Drunken Love” starts to play again.

I guess there’s no point in risking my neck; it’s not like whoever’s calling would be able to come and help. I’ll have to wait it out.

God, this song makes me so horny; it’s definitely a song to fuck to.

I might as well make the most of the situation. I start singing along with the song. With the number of times I’ve heard it, I know all the words by heart, even the rap parts.

It only takes a few minutes for my awful singing to drive the bear way.

Singing isn’t exactly a talent of mine, but this isn’t an easy song, so I’m not too offended when I see the bear wandering off.

After a few minutes, I climb down, grab my phone, and check the van. Okay, not too bad. Yes, he made a mess, but nothing too serious.

My phone rings again; it’s Francis.

Francis has been my best friend ever since we’ve been little, and I got super lucky when she and my brother fell for one another. She’s now my kick-ass BFF and sister-in-law.

I answer with our standard greeting, “Sup, hoe.”

“Sup, skank, what took so long?”

“Well, there was this bear and I’m pretty sure he swiped my Takis.”

“Good, you shouldn’t be eating that shit.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Bad news.”

“What is it now? Did Mrs. Peterson install a light bulb that was too bright?”

“No, it’s Mr. Gray. He’s got a hole in his roof, and he won’t let anyone else come to look at it.”

“How big is it?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say, and he won’t even let Atticus go look at it from outside.”

I like Mr. Gray; he’s one of my favorite people in town, but he can be a bit of a stickler when it comes to his house.

He built it for his wife back when they first chose to settle here. She had a clear vision of the house she wanted, and it was his way of showing his love for her.

Not only is it a beautiful story, but the house itself is absolutely stunning. It’s white and has a big wrap-around porch, window seats, stained glass windows, and solid cherrywood floors. It even has a tower. A fucking tower!

The quality of the craftsmanship is top-notch. I would know, I did some of the upgrades myself. Now Mr. G says only I’m allowed to work on the house. It’s a curse and a blessing at the same time.

I’ve tried many times to buy that house from him, but every time I throw a number his way, he just waves me off, muttering something inaudible under his breath.

“Okay, I’ll start making my way back now. Can you call Mr. Gray and tell him I’ll be over first thing in the morning?”

“Yerp.”

Francis hangs up and I start locking down the van to get going.

Before I start the engine, I pick a new song as my ringtone: “Paper Planes” by M.I.A.

As I drive back, in no particular hurry, my thoughts drift to Mr. Gray’s son, Mason.

I often think of him, especially when Mr. G calls me to come over to fix something. Mason was my first crush—still is.

I followed his career closely, watched every game up until his injury. I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was watching it at home alone, it was the last quarter, and when his knee twisted in the most unnatural way and my gut lurched, you didn’t have to have a medical degree to know it was over for him.

Mason was lucky, though.

Not many people get to fulfill their dream of going pro. He at least got to experience that much. My brother Atticus was on the basketball team back in high school, though he never wanted to play professionally.

It was always his dream to expand the family business.

My family has been in hardware and construction since the dawn of time. My father kept the hardware business going until he realized neither one of us wanted to run it.

My brother expanded into project management and contracting; now I’m one of his peons.

It wasn’t the path I had originally planned to take, but sometimes detours are unavoidable, and sometimes you’ve got to be flexible and go with the flow.

Detours. There’s one word to describe what happened.

Fucking disaster would be a more accurate description.

Catastrophe?

Cataclysm?

Calamity?

“Oooh, good one,” I say to myself.

I should probably get a dog so I can at least pretend I’m talking to it, rather than myself. I tend to think aloud a lot; maybe a dog might keep me out of trouble.