Love on Site (11 page)

“What do you think I’m running here, a kindergarten?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Walter.” I wanted to get the dressing-down over with, get my stuff, and get away from the trailer. “I ran my mouth when I shouldn’t have. It’s inexcusable, and I don’t blame you for firing me.”

“I want to hear exactly what happened.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s been clear to me for a while that Camilo doesn’t like me, but I figured it was just because I was young and inexperienced. But on Saturday night, Camilo saw me on South Beach with a bunch of my roommates, and that confirmed to him that I’m gay. He kept ragging on me last week and got some of the other guys to start talking trash too. This morning he made another crack, and I lashed out.”

“What did you say?”

For a moment, I thought he was asking me if I had actually confirmed I was gay. But I realized he just wanted me to repeat the Spanish slur I had said to Camilo. I did, and for the first time that morning Walter Loredo smiled. “You do have a mouth on you, Manny,” he said. “You remind me of myself.” He sat back in his chair. “I had this part-time job when I was in college, for an apartment management company. The boss was always coming in late—because he was out boozing the night before, I’m sure—and one of his favorite excuses was that he had to wait for his youngest kid to leave for school.”

I nodded along, having no fucking clue where this conversation was going.

“So one morning I was late, and when I walked in, I said to the secretary that I was sorry I was late, but—and I gave the same excuse the boss did. As I was talking, she started mouthing ‘he’s in there’ and pointing to his office.”

He laughed. “I heard his voice come floating out of his office. ‘Be nice, Wally,’ he said. And that was it.”

Wally. Walter Loredo had been called Wally when he was younger. The way he grinned helped me see him as my age, just a goofy guy trying to get by. One of his curls had fallen over his forehead, and he looked almost cherubic.

I came back to reality. I was in deep shit, and what he’d been called when he was a teenager had no relation to the conversation.

“I hope you’ve learned a lesson,” Walter said.

I cocked my head. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t mouth off at work. Even when a piece of shit like Camilo provokes you.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll remember that in the future.”

“I chewed Camilo a new asshole,” he said. “I told him I expect him to treat every single employee on this site with respect, and that I will not tolerate any further incidents. I’m telling you the same thing.”

“You mean I’m not fired?”

“No, but I’ll have my eye on you. Anything else happens, you’re out on your ass.”

I took a deep breath. There was one more thing I needed to confirm. “You don’t mind?” I asked, my voice a squeak.

“If I minded, Manny, I wouldn’t have hired you,” he said, and it took a moment for that message to sink in.

“You knew I was gay when you hired me?”

He laughed. “Come on, Manny. You lived in the Three Lambs frat house. I’d have to be completely clueless not to have guessed.” He leaned forward. “A construction site’s a tough place sometimes,” he said. “Very macho, not very tolerant. If you run into any problems, with Camilo or anybody else, I want you to come to me, all right?”

“I’m a big boy, Walter. I appreciate it, but I can fight my own battles.”

“I’m sure you can. I’ve heard you banter with the guys. But I wanted to make sure you understood that you have my full support.” He sighed. “Life shouldn’t be so tough. There needs to be a lot more tolerance, more openness. I’ve fought against that kind of thing my whole life.”

I didn’t know how to respond. A lot of the time lately, I felt like Walter was speaking to me in some kind of code, and though I thought I was on the verge of translating it, I was scared of saying the wrong thing.

I was worried that I might start to cry if I stayed in Walter’s office a minute longer. I backed the metal chair up, its legs grating against the floor, and said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He nodded toward the door. “Go. And before you do anything else, I want to hear that you found Camilo and shook his hand.”

I must have made a face, because Walter laughed again and said, “He doesn’t have cooties, Manny. Just an unenlightened attitude. You do your job well, maybe you can help him change that.”

I nodded and left Walter’s office as Estefani came into the trailer. She looked around. “Where’s my coffeepot? I need my caffeine.”

“Sorry, I broke it. I’ll go out and get you another one as soon as I talk to Camilo.” I went out the front door and saw Camilo talking to Pierre over by warehouse three, and walked toward him. He finished his conversation and turned to me as I approached. I wanted to get the jump on the conversation, so I said, “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I know I need to grow up, and I hope you’ll give me the chance to show you I can.”

Camilo nodded. “I don’t like you, but I have to work with you. I need this job.”

“I do too.”

“
Me pasé de la raya
,” he said. I crossed the line. “I will be good.”

“I will be too.” I reached out to shake his hand, as Walter had told me I had to. Camilo hesitated, but responded to my gesture. His hand was rough and sweaty, but I gripped it hard and shook. Then I went back to the trailer, astonished that I still had a job.

The Kiss

I went back to the trailer and fished through the trash to find the manufacturer and size of the coffeepot. “You okay, Manny?” Estefani asked.

“Never better. Back soon.”

My hands were shaking. I got in my car, took a couple of deep breaths, and backed out of my parking space.

I was still employed. That was excellent.

I had come out to Walter Loredo, and he hadn’t even remarked on it. Was it no big deal to him? Or had that part of the conversation slipped past him because he was focused on the larger issue? Would he remember it later and say something then?

I bought the coffeepot with my credit card and returned to the office. I went back to my office and got to work. I was determined to prove to Walter that he had made the right decision in keeping me around.

Our lunch meeting was quick. There was an energy crackling in the air that no one wanted to acknowledge. I worked on the schedule that afternoon, then went out to the site to watch a crane lift the roof trusses onto warehouse two. As I approached Adrian, he was in conversation with one of the superintendents. They saw me coming and turned away from me.

That was weird, I thought. By the time I got there, the super was leaving, and Adrian turned around to face me. “How’s the truss lifting going?” I asked.

“All right,” he said.

“When do you start putting the sheets of metal deck on?” They were the first roof layer to be covered with tar paper and tiny pebbles. Holes would then be cut into the roof for exhaust pipes and connections to roof-mounted fans and air-conditioning units.

“Not for a couple of days.”

Adrian was usually so willing to walk me through everything that was going on, and I had hoped to get some insight into the time it would take for each of those steps. But I assumed he had a lot on his mind, and I thanked him and walked on. When I stopped to watch the masons on warehouse three, a couple of them looked at me and whispered.

I figured I was being paranoid after all the excitement of the morning. I went back to my office and worked until the end of the day.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Walter said from my doorway. He was wearing his electric-yellow jogging shorts again. His running shirt read
Ninety-nine percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name
.

“Well, the six o’clock oil,” I said.

He laughed. “Go on, get out of here. I’m going to lock up and then go for a good long run.”

By the time I had my computer shut down and my office closed, Walter was in the parking lot stretching. I stepped out of the trailer door and looked at him. He had such a great body, long and lean, and I was mesmerized by the way his calf muscles flexed as he stretched. I ached to touch the silky hair on his lower arms and legs, to run my fingers through his dark, curly hair.

He looked up at me and smiled, and I felt my mouth go dry. “See you tomorrow,” I said, my voice a bit too high. I waved and then worried that was too faggy a gesture.

“Things will work out,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll look out for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can fight my own battles.”

“Yeah, but you’re on my battleground,” he said. “And I’m the commander in chief. If I say no fighting…”

“Then I won’t fight. I promise.”

“Good man.” He walked toward the trailer door as I headed for my car. But I had the feeling he was watching me.

Our Tuesday morning meeting was quick as well, and I spent the next hour or so in my office, working on estimates for new work to be done. Shortly after nine, Walter came into my office. He wore a green Loredo polo, and I noticed again how it complemented his green eyes, which sparkled from the effects of caffeine and vitamins.

“I just got a heads up,” he said. “We’re getting an OSHA inspection sometime within the next two days. Get out to the site and make sure all the supers know.”

“Anything special I should look at?”

He began ticking items off, and I hurried to write them down. “Temporary railings around every opening. Proper signage posted at hazards. Everyone wearing a hard hat. You can find a list of regulations online—you ought to get familiar with those. But first go outside and let everybody know that OSHA’s coming. Then get yourself a checklist.”

I looked at him for any sign that Tío Teo’s gossip might be true. Could Walter Loredo be gay? He’d shaved that morning, and his polo shirt fit perfectly over his pecs and biceps. But did dressing well make a man gay?

“What are you waiting for? Get moving,” Walter said and turned away. His pants fit well over his shapely butt. His belt was braided leather. Did he ever pull it off and use it to tease a lover?

“Will do.” I jumped up and headed for the site. I had to pull my head out of my ass and focus on my job. Whether Walter Loredo was gay or straight shouldn’t matter to me at all.

I hurried out to the site, beginning at warehouse one. I notified the superintendents of the upcoming visit, and then I checked off all the items Walter had mentioned. I did the same with each of the buildings, ending at the pad for warehouse four, where I found Camilo and told him.

“Gonna fuck with the schedule,” he said. “Fireproofing contractor supposed to be in warehouse one tomorrow.”

I nodded. I knew that we’d scheduled that day for spraying the beams and columns with a thick coating. “We don’t have to call the fireproofing off for that, do we?”

He shook his head. “But if OSHA’s here, it’s going to stall things for a while.”

“I’ll make a note of it. Thanks, Camilo.”

He nodded, and I walked away. Now that the air had been cleared, we seemed to be getting along better. Or maybe it was just Walter laying into him.

The OSHA inspector arrived early the next morning. I hovered in the background as Walter greeted him. I loved to watch Walter talk to people—he was so charming I couldn’t see how the inspector could find anything wrong on the site. He clapped the guy on the back, told him a couple of jokes, and walked him out to warehouse one.

Then he stepped away so the guy could perform his inspection. He and I moved over to warehouse two, and Walter said, “I walked around first thing this morning, and I didn’t see a thing he could catch us on. You did a good job, Manny.”

I basked in his praise. We checked the status of the electrical work on warehouse two and then went back to the trailer. The inspector was gone within the hour, leaving us with a clean bill of health.

That evening I worked late, catching up on everything I hadn’t been able to get to while the OSHA inspector was there. When I looked up, I realized I was alone in the trailer and the only cars in the lot outside were mine and Walter’s. But where was he? He wasn’t in the conference room or in his office.

I opened the trailer door to step outside, and Walter barreled right into me.

He was soaked with sweat and panting for breath. I instinctively put my arms around him, and his sweat leached onto my clothes. My dick pronged to attention at the feel of his skin against mine.

Our faces were close to each other, and there was some kind of magnetic force emanating from both of us that pulled our lips together into a kiss.

I was nearly delirious from the scent of him, the taste of his lips, the feel of his body against mine. But too quickly, he backed away from me.

“Jeez, I’m sorry, Manny,” he said. I couldn’t help noticing through his skimpy yellow shorts that he had a hard-on too. “That was completely inappropriate.”

He stumbled away from me, into his office, closing the door hard behind him.

I looked down and there was a big wet spot on the front of my shirt—as well as a smaller one on my pants. I was too shaken up by the realization that I’d just kissed Walter Loredo to do anything but get in my car and drive home.

My emotions were all over the place. I’d finally kissed Walter Loredo, and it had been almost as excellent as I had hoped. I wanted to memorize every second of it in case this was a one-off, some kind of terrible fluke.

How could I face him at the seven a.m. meeting, not knowing what that kiss had meant? I agonized over it all the way back to the Beach. I didn’t report Tío Teo’s rumors to my roommates or tell them about the kiss. I wanted time to consider it all on my own.

Wednesday morning, Walter was all business, and I took my cues from him. I spent the whole day in warehouse one. The building was always swarming with electricians, plumbers, and the heating-ventilating-air-conditioning crew, called tin-knockers, who had to install the ductwork and controls for their systems.

All the exterior doors, including those for the loading bays, had to have keyed locks. I carried my laptop out with me and began to check and tag the keys for each door.

“I walked out of the trailer and saw your car,” Walter said from behind me.