Picture Prompt #9

What a week!

Book two in my EVO Nation series, EVO Shift, was released last Tuesday. Thank you to every one who has supported my journey, the launch, and everything in between. I owe you a great deal.

Now, onto today’s writing exercise. Picture Prompt #9 is a picture of the current state of my garden. Some of you may remember me mentioning an extension, well, it’s underway. Buildings have been knocked down, ground has been dug, skips of rubble removed, and I have to walk across a bridge…*coughs*…door to hang my washing out. The builders have appropriately warned me of the risks, and even put signs up, but I’m a rebel and I like line dried washing haha.Seeing as it is consuming a lot of my life at present, I shall use it for my prompt too.

I’m being the rebel that I am in this photo. That dodgy looking blue wood is the said door bridge, and yep, I’m stood on it. It’s funny now, until I fall into the trench and the builders laugh and point.

Watchers

The tray of mugs tinkles precariously as I skirt over holes, rubble, and mud. The men set down their tools with looks of appreciation on their faces. I place the tray on the camp table, and whip the unopened pack of hobnob biscuits from my pocket.

“You’re a diamond,” says Greg. “Isn’t she, Xander- a diamond?”

As usual Xander is neither looking at me nor ignoring me. He’s mastered the nonchalent facial expressions of a bored, under challenged labourer. “Hmm,” he grunts, dropping his pick axe, and bypassing me to join the other men.

“Pull up a pew,” Greg says, clapping me on the back with a little too much force. I almost lose my footing, but style it out. He stacks two bags of cement on top of each other, and shoves me onto it. “I want to go over the upcoming work with you.”

“I just work here. You need to speak to Simon, my boss.”

“Oh, I thought you and him were…”

“God no!” I laugh into my hand.

Xander looks up and meets my eye. “You’re not married to Simon?”

It’s the most he has said to me since the work started three weeks ago. Even the other builders look shocked that a real sentence came out of his mouth. Although, a couple throw Xander side smiles, and I’m sure he blushes a little.

“No. What gave you that idea?”

“Simon did,” says Greg. He takes a sip of coffee and raises his eye brows over the top of the mug. “Said you were off limits. That you and him were… well, a thing. I assumed you both owned this place.”

The smile drops from my face. Shooting to my feet, I march back toward the pub. “I’m going to kill him- he’s forever doing this- can’t take no for an answer.” I rant to myself. Simon is a letch, old enough to be my father, and a pain in my ass.

“You go and give him what for, love,” one of the builders calls after me.

“Oh, I’ll do one better than that,” I reply, slamming the door on their jeers.

***

I march out into the construction site. Not stopping, I swing my coat on, and fish for my car keys in my handbag. The men stop working, but I’m raging and not in the mood for conversation. I meet Xander’s eyes briefly, and he stares back. The eye contact is both unnerving and exciting. Why now? Why suddenly show an interest today?

“Gave him a few choice words, did ya?” Greg calls, laughing. I’m glad it amuses him.

“Two actually: ‘I’ and ‘quit’.”

Greg’s mouth clamps shut, and I walk toward the carpark, throwing a wave over my shoulder, desperately trying to hold my shit together. “Bring a thermos tomorrow because Simon won’t bother to water you,” I say in warning.

***

The phone rings and I answer it without looking at the caller. Simon’s anger laced voice booms into my ear.

“What did you say to the builders? You walk out, and then they up sticks and bail on me. What the hell am I supposed to do, Kelsy.”

“Not my problem. And I’ve said nothing to the builders. Perhaps, they don’t want to work for a man who pretends to be the husband of girls half his age. Get lost, Simon.” I hang up on him.

I flop on to the bed, burying my face into the pillow. How the hell am I going to afford the rent next month, or to keep my car on the road. I am in a monumental bloody mess.

The phone rings again and I snatch it up. “I told you to get lost.”

“Oh my gracious. Is this a bad time? I’m looking for a Miss Kelsy Reinhard,” says a squeaky, female voice.

I sit bolt upright, my cheeks burning with embarassment. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else. Yes, this is Kelsy.”

“I hear you’re in need of a job?” she continues.

“Umm.. yeah. How’d you know-?”

“A friend of a friend from the bar. I’m in desperate need of a waitress. Can you start as soon as possible. It’s the Greasy Spoon on the high street. Okay, I’ll see you in a min, Honey.”

I don’t even get a chance to respond, but the answer is yes, of course. I need this job. Who cares how weird that phone call was? I did make a scene in the bar, and some regulars would have given the mystery caller my name, no doubt.  Throwing on a bit of lippy and my coat, I snatch up my keys and drive to the cafe.

The woman, Heidi, greets me, placing a pinny into my hands. She’s at least seventy, and wears a house coat over her nylon dress. “I’m snowed under, Honey. Could you help in the kitchen for tonight, and tomorrow I’ll teach you the ropes.” She guides me through the swing door. “Joey, this is Kelsy. Kelsy, Joey the chef. Point Kelsy in the right direction and she’ll crack on,” says Heidi.

Joey greets me, but is run off of his feet with orders. “It’s just dishes at the moment, but could you take out the bins. It’s just through that door.”

Grabbing up the black sacks, I open the door and use my knees to bash the bags through the incredibly narrow space. Banging catches my attention, and a familiar smell of menthol tobacco fills my nose. A tall wall separates me from the voices on the other side, but curiosity gets the better of me. I climb onto the dumpster, tiptoeing to see over the brick wall. The source of the smell is apparent- Greg. In fact, the whole building crew is on the other side digging up the concrete.

“What the hell?” I say, startling them. “Why are you here? Simon’s going bat shit.”

“Shit,” Greg says under his breath.

All the men look sheepish and caught in the act. Just what that act is I don’t actually know.

Screaming as a hand grabs my ankle, I drop onto the dumpster lid to see Heidi in a panic.

“You shouldn’t be out here!” she scolds.

“Joey asked me to–“

“No, Kelsy. That’s not your job.” Her voice is a mix of anger and worry, and she holds out her hands in defeat as Greg appears in the cafe’s courtyard. The other men are close on his heels. “I’m sorry, Greg. I am rushed off of my feet in there. I forgot to tell her not to come out here.”

Greg rubs a hand over his rough beard. “Ah hell, nevermind. It was only a matter of time. Now will have to be as good a time as any. I wish she was ready though.”

“Whoa! What the hell is this? Why are you even here?” I snap. They’re all acting shady, and a knot has tightened in my stomach. “Are you following me?”

Xander steps forward, taking my wrists before I can run away. “Yes, Kelsy. We’re not builders, we’re Watchers. Our job has been to keep you safe.”

All written works are the property of K.J.Chapman

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