“What kind of accommodations are you looking for in regard to the price drop?” I ask.

“Well,” he says, “most of the jobs people give nowadays are rush jobs, and they always want it done in a week or so. Now, I can certainly do that, but it would mean bringing on a couple of guys to help fill out the crew, and that’s going to cost a bit extra.”

“Well, I would like for this to be done quickly,” I tell him, “but as long as it’s done right and for the right price, I’m sure we could work with an extra week or two.”

“Great,” he says, “so, does that mean we’ve got the job?”

I smile and put my hand out.

“Welcome aboard,” I tell him.

I try not to notice how grateful he seems to have gotten the work, even though he just under bid his next closest competitor by nearly $100,000. I’m sure he’s this happy when he gets any job, and it’s not a signal of something else.

“All right,” he says. “If you want, we can clear that area so we can get started, or, if you prefer, we can wait for you and your staff to do it—it’s really up to you.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” I start.

“Not at all,” he says, beaming. “We’ll take care of that. When were you looking for us to start working?”

“As soon as possible,” I tell him. “I’m sure you and your crew are very busy, but—”

“How’s the beginning of next week?” he asks.

The warning lights, flashing the words “too good to be true” are blazing in my head, but I ignore them. I tell myself it’s because he’s the right guy with the right price, but the truth of the matter is that Linda and I are a lot more alike than I’d ever admit.

Chapter Two

Every Beginning

Eric

Today’s a good day, although I think I almost blew it there at the end when I underquoted and didn’t really hide the fact that I really needed the job.

The construction bust is still going on and, while things are starting to improve, in a place like New York where everything’s so competitive, it’s been hell trying to keep things going.

That’s all right, though. Everything is going great.

I got a job that’s going to put food on the table and money in the landlord’s hand, and tonight is my one year anniversary with Amy. We’re going to L’Orlais for dinner and after landing the job today, I’m not too worried about how I’m going to make ends meet for the month after such an extravagant dinner.

I get back to the apartment, but something’s wrong.

The door is open.

This is just my luck: Today would be the day that I get robbed.

I’m about to turn the corner, run into the apartment, and try to take out whoever’s trying to gank all my shit when I see Amy.

“Hey!” I tell her. “I’ve got some great news. Are we still on for dinner?”

She’s startled seeing me, her blue eyes going wide. “Eric,” she says, brushing a strand of flaxen hair out of her face, “what are you doing home? I thought you were meeting with a potential client?”

“Yeah, I headed to the appointment a little early,” I tell her. “That’s what I wanted to tell you—”

“Eric, it’s over. I’m moving out,” she interrupts.

“What? Why?”

“We’ve just been treading water here for a long time, and I don’t think that’s the way I want to spend my life,” she says. “You’ve been out of work, and I know you’ve been trying to land something, but maybe it’s time to realize that you’re just not going to make it in this town. I mean, when was the last time you got a job without egregiously underbidding?” she asks.

“I got a job today,” I tell her. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Look, I know things have been a bit rough for a while, but that’s all going to turn around. I got a job with just my base crew, and it’s really going to…” I trail off as a man comes out of my bedroom carrying a box.

“Who’s this?” I ask.

The man sets down his box and walks over to her. She puts her arm around him and says, “This is Cort. He and I, well, we’re moving in together.”

“Hi,” the fuckhead says and even tries to shake my hand.

“Yeah, go fuck yourself,” I tell him and turn back to Amy. “What the hell is this? I thought we were going to try to work things out and now you’re moving in with some little bitch? What the fuck?”

“Eric,” she says, “we grew apart a long time ago.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t even know this guy? How long have you two even been seeing each other and you’re moving in with him?”

Dickhead thinks it’s a good idea to take a step toward me, and I’m hoping he takes another.

“You’re going to want to step the fuck back or you’re going to be breathing through your fucking eyelids,” I threaten.

He’s apparently smart enough to realize I’m not joking, so he takes a step back. He’s apparently stupid enough to think it’s okay for him to still be in my apartment.

“We’ve been together for a while,” Amy says. “You know I like to have a backup plan when things are going rough, and well, Cortland and I are—”

“I’m sorry, hold on a second,” I interrupt. “You’re leaving me for someone named fucking Cortland?”

“Just calm down, buddy,” he says and tries to pat me on the shoulder.

That’s a mistake.

I swat his hand away and put my finger in his stupid fucking face, saying, “You try to touch me or come near me one more time and they’re going to be scraping your ass of the pavement with a shovel, do you understand me? Amy, what the fuck?”

“Look,” she says, “you’re great and everything, but Cort is someone I can see myself growing old with.”

“You said that exact same thing to me last night,” I told her and I turn to Cort, adding, “yeah, when we were fucking.”

“Have some class, man,” Cort says, though this time the only movement he makes is backward.

“So this is it, then?” I ask. “You’re moving out, just like that?”

“I’m not moving out,” she says. “Cort’s moving in here.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so it looks like we’re going to have a fun little situation, aren’t we. I sure hope no one strangles you in your sleep, Cort, that’d be a bummer.”

“No, you’re moving out,” Amy says.

“I’m on the lease,” I argue. “You can’t just kick me out like this.”

“You haven’t paid the rent in two months!” Amy says. “We had to go month to month six months ago, and Chris,” our landlord, “was happy to put Cort’s name in your place when he not only paid for this next month’s rent, but the last two months when you were sitting on the couch crying like a little bitch that you couldn’t find anyone that wanted to hire you. Jesus, have some self-respect.”

“I’m not going,” I tell her. “This is bullshit, and I don’t know how you think you can just take over my apartment when it was mine before we ever even knew each other. I just got a job, Amy,” I tell her. “It doesn’t have to go this way.”

“Yeah,” she says, “it does. I think it’s time to say goodbye, now, Eric.”

“At least let me grab some of my shit,” I tell her. “You’re not just going to throw me out and take all my stuff in the process.”

“It’s already packed up,” Amy says. “The movers will be here any minute and they’ll take your stuff wherever you want them to, although I’m not sure how much room that’s going to leave you in whatever shitty hotel you end up staying.”

“You know what?” I ask, but quickly realize that I have nothing to follow the question.

“What?” Amy asks.

“Forget it,” I say, making the motion of washing my hands. “I’m done.”

“Yeah, you’re done,” she says. “Nice of you to pretend like it’s your idea. I’m sure that’ll help you through your lonely nights where you only have a box of tissues and your left hand to keep you company.”

With that, she slams the door in my face and locks it.

I should at least be able to grab my stuff, so I pull out my keys and try to unlock the door. Instead, I end up pounding on it, shouting, “You changed the fucking locks?”