West [ COMPLETED ]

XXIII

Sometimes, I'd start to feel good about life, like when I thought about Wes and I didn't feel anything but numb, and realized I was over him, or when I counted my little stash of money in my savings and saw how much it had multiplied over the year; I'd think to myself that life was starting to look up, but that's always life's favorite time to throw in another twist to keep it interesting.

Dad called me one day to let me know he was retiring from the airforce and tell me know I could come home if i wanted.

The house needed some work but it was still ours.

I was happy for about four seconds at the thought of dad retiring, and him being able to go home. And then I realized that in order for me to go home, I would become neighbors again with Weston Travers.

That was not something I was able to handle. I need to keep him firmly in the past.

Honestly I didn't even know if I was capable of handling a visit. Every emotion that I thought had died along with my childish infatuation for Weston came rushing back in a wave of unwelcome, raw feelings.

That was a definite nope.

I would be keeping my feet firmly planted on Colorado soil for as long as West lived adjacent to my little stucco house on Grenada Street.

I never wanted to look at him again.

I stood up from my bed and found myself making my way to my dresser, pulling open the top drawer, and taking those dog tags out of the little box I had dropped them into a while ago.

I turned them over in my hand, rubbed my thumb across the surface thoughtfully, and put them back, slamming the drawer with a little more force than necessary.

I didn't want to think about him either.

I went outside and threw myself into the evening chores, blocking out thoughts and memories of Weston.

•~•~•~•~•

For the next two weeks, Scott and I and the rest of his crew, which was now only comprised of two other guys, as one had been fired and the other quit, worked on building a large deck onto a nice restaurant located a few towns away from us.

We had to wake up at 5:00 a.m to get all of our chores done to be at the job site by 7:00 every morning, and I rather loathed it.

The aroma of smoked steaks floated through the back door all day and teased us. I rarely spent money on eating out though, it added up.

I continued sanding the stretch of railing I was working on, ignoring my growling stomach.

I heard my brother turn off his sander and the men stop nailing, so I quickly turned off mine and looked to see what they were doing.

A man in a dress shirt, nice shoes and a gold necklace was standing on the deck talking with them. I walked a little closer to listen.

"How soon do you think you'll be done with everything, including the fine details?" He asked.

"Ahhhh, probably only another three days Sir, got to sand the entire thing and stain it or paint it, whatever you prefer."

"Stain should be fine," he nodded. " Sounds good to me." He turned as if to go and then stopped when he saw me, looking me up and down in what seemed to be interest.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing on a job like this?" He asked me, almost indignantly.

My brother took a step forward.

"This is my brother," I gestured with a smile," And I'm mostly his assistant."

"Bullshit, I saw you up on the rafters yesterday by yourself,"he said, giving me a wicked grin.

I chuckled awkwardly and shrugged.

"Tell you what, you ever get tired of this, you come in my restaurant and I'll make you a waitress, you'll get paid pretty good," he nodded at me.

I smiled and thanked him, and he went back inside, leaving my brother to glare at me.

"What a...." He shook his head.

"He was just being nice," I said.

"Yeah right. Men like that aren't nice for no reason," he said, shaking his head and picking up his sander.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Ugh." He just rolled his eyes.

I went back to my sander but thought about it for the rest of the day.

Being a waitress didn't sound so bad.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•

That next week I'd decided I was done with construction. It was nice and all of my brother to hire me, but I absolutely hated it. Construction had the ability to be one of the most boring jobs you could ever do, and I'd rather do almost anything else.

After jack hammering all the tile off of the first floor of a 4,000 square foot house, and then having to be the only one to load it into buckets, lug it out of the house and into a trailer, I decided it was time for me to find a different job.

"Scott," I said, as soon as we got home that day, " I think I've decided to become a waitress."

He flopped back into his lazy boy.

"That's up to you. But I hope not at that dudes restaurant."

"Yes, at his restaurant, where else?"

He turned the TV on. " Ummmm I don't know, the diner?"

"With all those teenagers clogging the place? Absolutely not."

"Whatever, but don't say I didn't tell you about what's-his-face."

I shrugged,."I'll take my chances."