Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(98)

“Was.” I swore under my breath. “All right, what am I missing?” I asked, though I already knew. Of course I knew. Randall, you *.

“We got no documentation that you’ve got at least four years’ experience working the business.” The man looked up at me. “You been working for a licensed guy? We don’t have his hours.”

My hands clenched into fists. “So I just need to give you proof, right?”

The man turned from the computer and rested his hands on his belly. “Yes, sir. Your money’s still good. We’ll just give you a new exam date after we receive the docs. Probably in two to three weeks.”

Two to three weeks.

“Can’t I at least take the test now? I’m already here, ready to go…”

The man was shaking his head before I could even finish. “Nope.” He ticked off on his fingers, “Money, docs, test. In that order or all at once. Them’s the only options.”

In my truck, I fought for calm but it was a tough battle. The drive from Norwalk to Martin Construction offices in Inglewood took more than an hour with traffic, and turned out to be a futile anyway. The lot was empty, the tiny office dark.

Then I remembered the guys were at the Reseda site, working to get the job finished on time. The bank wanted a fast turnaround on their property and had offered a bonus to Martin if they got it. I swore enough to make my mother roll in her grave, and tore my truck out of that lot too.

It took nearly two hours to get to Reseda as the 405 freeway was its usual nightmarish self, despite it being the weekend. At the house, I saw Randall Martin’s green Subaru in the drive, and stormed in, ignoring the greetings of Vic and Rob and my other friends. Randall was doing nothing, as usual, but letting his guys work a Sunday for his bonus while he stood around checking his fantasy football stats on his phone.

I strode up to him and grabbed him by the collar. “You goddamn bastard.”

Randall looked like he was about to piss himself, and his expression would have been comical had I not been so blinded with rage. “What are you—?”

“My hours, dammit!” I gave him shake. “You were supposed to turn that in weeks ago! You told me you’d turned it in weeks ago!”

I felt hands grab me, Vic and Miguel—again. I released Randall, who coughed and sputtered.

“You go too far, Bishop,” Randall said. “That’s twice now. First Doug and now me.”

The rest of the guys had gathered around—Doug likely among them—but I hardly noticed. “Where is it? Where is the paperwork?”

“I don’t…know. I…”

“This is my life you’re f*cking with!”

“O-okay.” Randall held up his hands. “In…in my car.”

“Let’s go.”

Mustering as much dignity as he could, Randall went to the driveway with myself and the entire crew in tow. “Get back to work!” he bellowed, but they all ignored him.

He opened the lower, large glove box and pulled out a battered manila envelope. “Found it yesterday…I thought I had mailed it. Really. But I got busy. You know how it is.”

I tore it from his grasp. “I quit.”

“Now wait.” Randall held up his hands and leaned in close so the other guys couldn’t hear. “You’re my best guy. I can’t lose you. That’s why, I didn’t…”

“Best guy? You’ve been messing with my pay for years.”

Randall stammered and glanced around, irritation flaring anew. “Get back to work, you nosy bastards!” But the audience remained. “I needed you to need this job. I’m sorry, but...Come on, Cory.” He leaned in close. “I’m barely holding on here.”

“Tough shit,” I said, ignoring how, despite all, I felt bad for the guy. “I expect my last pay check in seven days or I’ll come after your ass for it.”

Doug Liman snickered. “With your rich bitch lawyer?”

Without missing a beat, I instantly altered my course and walked smoothly up to Doug. The other man quailed at my deadly calm demeanor. I pinned Doug to the wall with my dagger glare.

“You want to say something else about her, Doug? To my face?” I asked, my expression oddly curious, my voice dangerously casual. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

He sniffed nervously. “Nah.”

“I didn’t think so.” I turned and strode to my truck, the manila envelope in hand. Footsteps dogged mine.

“Cory, man, wait up.”

Vic, Rob, Miguel, and three other guys were there. “It’s like I told you,” Vic said. “You go, we go.”

Some of the red-hot blaze of my anger mellowed. “I’m not a GC, guys, and thanks to that prick—” I flapped the envelope at Randall who stood in the driveway with Doug, looking like the kids no one wanted to play with—“I’m not going to be, not for weeks. And even then, there’s no business.”

Rob extended his hand. “Maybe not today. But soon, eh?”

Miguel shook my hand too. “Yeah, don’t leave us hanging with this prick, eh?”

I laughed despite it all, touched, as each guy pledged to work for me; good and talented guys, every one. Vic was last.

I hugged my best friend. “Thanks, man. I’ll try not to let you down.”