Page 22 of Elijah
Elijah
aged 28
My mind was spinning into overtime. All I’d been able to think about all week had been fucking Amy – well not fucking Amy as in the act, although if I had to visualise something while I wanked in the shower each morning, it wasn’t a bad place to start.
Problem was, when that thought entered my head, my guilt about Mia stabbed at my temples and gave me a damn headache. She was a sweet girl and I loved her, but it wasn’t that all-consuming, tightening of the gut, tugging on my nuts kind of love that I’d felt for Amy.
“Fuck you Amy Brown,” I muttered, as I raised the lump hammer and continued to smash up the mound of concrete that the builders had left behind, lazy fuckers.
“How’s it going, boss?” Marty asked, coming to stand in front of me, holding out a mug.
“Hard,” I growled, taking another swing of the hammer. “I’ve told Tino he should complain about the mess they’ve left outside, but I doubt he will.”
“It’s going to slow us down by at least a week, especially as the whacker is knackered.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, dropping the hammer to the ground and leaning on the handle. “They must have dumped all the shit from inside, outside before they left site, because it wasn’t here when I came to do the damn quote.”
I took the proffered mug from Marty, taking a welcoming sip. It was hard, hot, thirsty work and tea was just what I needed.
“I got you some water too.” He handed the large bottle over and grinned.
“What?” I took it from him and threw it down next to my fleece on the floor.
“Amy gave it to me for you.”
I almost choked on the tea that I’d just taken a sip of. “Fuck off.”
“Nope. She gave us all one. She did kind of growl when she handed one over for ‘him making all the banging noise’, but at least she thought of you.”
I looked down at the bottle of water on the floor and scowled. “You sure she didn’t spit in it first?”
“I checked, it’s still sealed.”
We both laughed at the fact that Amy’s hatred for me was so obvious that Marty had felt the need to check she hadn’t tampered with my water. We’d barely spoken since our argument the week before, but evidently I wasn’t the only one to notice the icy stares she’d been throwing my way.
“So how long were you two married?” Marty asked, kicking at a piece of rubble.
“Not really sure I want to talk about it,” I replied with a scowl. “All you need to know is I didn’t do what she said I did. She’s fucking blinkered and narrow minded and gave up on us too easily.”
“Okay.” He raised a brow and turned to walk away. “You know what they say though boss. It’s a thin line between love and hate.”
“Yeah and you know what else they say, Marty?”
He gave me a questioning chin lift.
“It’s best to keep out of your boss’s fucking business, unless you want to be without a job.”
Marty gave a chuckle and left me to finish my tea, looking over at the lounge window where I knew Amy was working. I could imagine what she was doing; she’d have a pencil in her hair, a finger on her lips and one hip cocked as she studied the position of the mirror she’d hung, or the cushions she’d placed. Either that or she was on the phone giving the decorating contractor shit for not putting the wallpaper up to her satisfaction, or not giving the wall enough coverage with the paint.
I smiled and shook my head, hating that I still knew her every move, despising myself more for enjoying playing the game of ‘What’s Amy Doing Now?’. I’d played it a lot when she first left, but gradually managed to wean myself off it, but now she was close by, in my fucking air space, I was as addicted to it as fucking Candy Crush and I really didn’t want to be. It made me feel weak and pathetic and guilty because it felt like I was cheating on Mia and that was shit, because despite what Amy might think I was not a cheat.
Throwing the dregs of my tea onto the ground, I placed the mug next to the bottle of water and got back to knocking shit out of a pile of concrete.
* * *
I looked at my watch and decided it was time I ate some lunch and my stomach agreed as it started growling. Picking up the now empty water bottle and tea mug, I made my way to the back of the house and pushed open the kitchen door. The room had become the focal point for all of us, where I, my guys, Amy, Claudia, and any contractors on site all went to for lunch or a tea break. It was rare Amy and I were in there at the same time, but I’d occasionally catch site of her disappearing back as I walked through the door.
The kitchen was empty, but I wasn’t totally surprised seeing as I was late eating lunch, so I washed my mug and then went over to the huge fridge, opened it, and pulled out my sandwiches. I was just about to sit down and do some web surfing on my phone while I ate, when I heard shouting from somewhere in the house. Scraping back my chair, I went to the door which led into the huge hallway with its impressive staircase and listened. I could hear it again, someone shouting for help.
