Leonard
"Yeah!" it was the little Chiquita, "Mamasita wan barrita?" I grabbed it in my pants to show her what I mean if she looked up. She just jerked her kid's little arm, and hurried past to the Elementry school, "AND YOUR LITTLE DOG TOO!" I thought that was clever. The Mexicans we had last week taught me Momacita, it really means Little Dog, or Little Bitch, cause it means a girl.
They was gone, though. We don't need Manuel Labor for taping, and floating the walls, an all the other guys don't know spanglish. I got a laugh, and kept loading my tape gun, waiting for Chiquita to come back. Maybe without the kid she'd loosen up a little. Hot little thing, I mean short, and stumpy, but with a decent pair, and hips you could hang a balcony off each side. Her sweatpants rolled back, and forth behind her when she walked, like ta hypnatise me.
Anyway, I snapped it shut, and looked down, but it wasn't her. "Damn!" now that's more like it. Tall, hair up behind her, her long legs under the skirt, swinginging tight on this side of her ass with each step. For a moment, I was speachless. "Hey!" I yelled down to her, "I got some business for ya!" she stopped, turned, then looked down at my pumping hands, right where her hips should be.
"Lenny," I turned to Mike, the foreman.
"Yeah?" I grinned, he don't always think it's funny, but hey, it's free speech.
"That's the new electrician." he shook his head, and laughed.
"What?" I looked back, at her not quite suit, the sensible running shoes black to match it. Sure enough, she switched the sonotube in her hands, and turned to walk through the gate, up into the site. We was almost done with this job, a little late because of the framers pokin ass.
She came up the steps, shook hands with Mike, then smiled over at me. "Mind your own business," she smiled, giggled at the joke, and my embarassment. Up here, I could tell that it was just a jacket, and the skirt was, like, sweatshirt cloth. Her legs up close looked weird, still long, and skinny, but so striped with muscle you couldn't see the bone, like cables.
My gun was loaded, so I took off to finish the tape, and float. "Fuckin bitch," out of earshot, "Who does she think she is?" If I hurried, I could wrap it up by lunch, and move on to the next job. Still, there ain't that much left, so I set down the "banjo", and got the little wooden case from my toolbags. Swivaling the lid, the little "Cigarette" popped out, and I poked it down into the cavity to load it. "No need to save it for lunch," I lit it, and a real one to cover the smell.
"Goddamnit!" Mike come around the corner, and busts me. Getting all pissy, "It's not even 10 o clock yet!"
I grab the Banjo, "No, put that down." Drop it, "You harrass every lady that walks by, INCUDING the new contractor, who happens to be a personal freind of the OWNER,"
"Look," I start, "I..."
"Shut the fuck up!" he points out the open door frame, "And get the fuck off the site, I'll mail your fucking check just grab your shit, and get your ass out of here."
"Fine!" I grab the banjo, and put my other hand up to push him out of the way, but he steps back.
"Touch me and you'll spend the night in county." The county hotel, fucking jail.
"Mother fucker," he's lucky I didn't bring my deathstick up. Fuck him, I finished the hit on my way down, and puffed on my cig while I packed another on the landing.
"Hey," she snaps her fingers a bunch of times, "You do punch out?"
"What?" the electrician, standing by a pile of outlet boxes, and light cans.
"I need to install all these, but now I only got a couple days." yeah, not all prissy now, huh bitch?
"Sure," I looked around. The lower floor, already taped, and floated, ready to paint. "Where's it all go?" Really open, it's basicly one big room, with the bathroom under the stairs, and the plumbing connections for the kitchen on the back wall. Took the three of us a day, and a half to sheet, and finish it, didn't look like too much sparky to wire up. Mike fired to many people, and risked getting fired for it, like our last electrician.
"Ken you read prints?" she had them out of the spiral wound cardboard tube.
"Sure," the electrical schematics mean nothing to me, but I could read the measurements. Taking out a keyhole saw, and razor knife, I got to work on the outlet by the stairs.
"What're you doing?" mike stomped down.
"It's all right!" my new boss run over, "I need him, to finish the job on time."
"You hired him?" he made a fucked up face.
"Just for the weekend," she held up her hand, as if to block him from coming down the stairs. I was standing up by then, not holding the knife, and saw out where he could see them. "I have to be back monday."
"Where's your crew?" he looked around.
"Up in Tampa," she pushed him, back up the stairs with one hand, "And I don't have time to hire another crew."
"But" he got to the top, and lost his ballance, trying to take one more step.
"Keep working!" some hair pulled loose as she turned back to me, eyes feirce.
"Yes maam," I tried not to sas her, and went back down to finish the box cutout. "Bitch." I ain't going to bore you with cutout, the box is this size, so you need a little square hole right where the plan says. So, I stick in the keyhole saw, and rough it out, about a quarter" in so I can whittle it smooth with the razor knife. That's the plan, anyway, but cutting across the top, the saw stops, against wood before even the short roughcut is done. "Fuck."
"What is it?" She comes down, not stomping, or breathless, calm as can be voice.
"There's a stud," I wiggled the saw blade against it, "Shud I cut it out for the box, or move it over?"
"let me see," she squats down, knees together, and I get out of her way. Wigling the saw, she taps my pencil marks with her fingertip, "This where it goes?"
"Yeah," I scratched my head, "I didn't frame this one." 16" on center, but not exactly, they must've started from the far wall, and over measured by a cunt hair each time. After about 10' it came out to almost a half inch, looked like.
"Move it over," she got up, and dusted off her hands.
I shrug, and get back down to go to work.