Sawdust wandered aimlessly through the air like ashes drifting from the remnants of a burnt home.
The carpenter, a brawny Italian man in his early forties, steadily drug a plank of wood through the spinning blade of the table saw set directly past his waist. Torn leather gloves hid the arthritic trembles that convulsed through his hands and behind the yellow goggles shielding his eyes was a mess of oily, slicked back hair.
Heavy alternative rock blared from the radio set up on a tall stack of large tiles next to what was soon-to-be a kitchen counter. Although he'd normally consider this much ruckus to be a safety hazard, he advised his crew that they could leave early and to enjoy the rest of the weekend off. He just decided to stick behind for a couple of hours so that their project was closer to being back on schedule, as lately it had seemed they had been falling a bit behind.
Set up around him were several fogged plastic sheets, stretched from various sides of the room—that is, if one would consider wooden beams held up by nothing but a few wall studs a room. It was a temporary wall of sorts, meant to both keep the scorching Texas heat out and the wooden particles clouding the air in. Draped over his wife beater was a plaid button-up and, as he continued to split the board with one hand, he used the other to wipe the sweat from his brow with the hem of his tattered shirt.
Meanwhile, he didn't notice the distorted shadow approaching from behind, slipping through an opening between two of the elastic curtains as it snatched something from a nearby table, and it took no more than a matter of a few seconds for the figure to close in on him. A voice called out, drowned out by the saw, as the person reached out for the man's shoulder.
He spun around as he, in a natural state of defense, pulled the portable table saw from it's mount and wielded it in the air—nearly slicing into the young man's neck if not for a couple of mere inches between them.
"Dad!" Enzo took a step back, arms tossed in the air. "What the—"
"Fuck!" His father flicked a button with his thumb, causing the spinning blade to roll to an abrupt stop. Dust settled in the air as he tossed it back onto the table. He then lifted up a remote to power off the radio. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"
Enzo shook his head, staring at him unbelievably. His father never was the best at apologizing but this was a entirely new level. Dark chestnut hair covered his forehead and, just below his maroon eyes was a thin constellation of freckles spreading inconsistently across the bridge of his nose. "I called out to you like five times."
"Rule number one if you want to be work in my line of duty..."
He doesn't. Never did. Enzo just fed into that lie to get his father off his back but, after his high school graduation two years ago, his father has been more eager than ever to push him to work for his company. But Enzo would much rather keep working at the campus book store over something that involves manual labor. Not to mention a lot of sweat. It wasn't so much his thin frame holding him back but more so his indolence. At least that's what he tells himself, although truthfully he just doesn't think he can handle it. Especially not on top of four college courses.
"Power equipment and sneaking up on people do not go hand-in-hand." He continued, "Unless you want to risk losing that hand."
"Okay, I get it. My bad." Enzo rolled his eyes and, from behind his back, he sneakily slid a set of keys underneath a partially opened newspaper.
"So what's up?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to drop in and check up on my good ole dad to see how he was doing." An awkward smile crept upon Enzo's face. "How are you doing today?"
His father cocked a suspicious eyebrow as he pushed his safety glasses up to rest on his head. He wasn't buying this shit.
"Good?" Enzo attempted to fill in the silence. "That's good. Me too. Just y'know, enjoying what's left of my weekend."
"What're you up to?"
"What? I can't drop in and check up on my dad?"
"No. That's weird."
"Okay, you caught me. Came here to case the joint because I plan on throwing a party here later," Enzo said sarcastically as he gazed around at the vast emptiness surrounding the two. "It's gonna be so lit."
"Well then. Thanks for dropping by I guess. You know, if you want to stick around I can actually show you..."
Enzo shook his head reluctantly, as he already knew where this conversation was heading. "Actually, I'm kinda pressed for time. Yeah, told Avery I was gonna drop by and help him move into his new apartment and all that fun stuff. It's just like a lot of... moving... and stuff."
"Oh okay." His father lifted his index finger as a thought crossed his mind. "Well, when you get home, can you move your mom's car under the canopy? It's supposed to rain tonight and I just got it washed yesterday."
"Sure."
"Oh, and don't forget it's your turn to take out the trash."
"Okay. Alright, see ya."
"And remind your sister that she needs to get that back tire aired up. She's been driving around on that thing for I don't know how lon—"
"Okay, bye!" Enzo's voice faded.
His father turned around to see Enzo had already disappeared out of sight, the sound the plastic sheets being lifted as his son slipped out through the front entrance in a hastily escape. He shrugged and took one last swipe at the sweat on his forehead before lowering his glasses and flicking the saw back on to resume his work.
Scrawny legs hurriedly scrambled down the sidewalk as Enzo jumped into the black SUV parked alongside the curb to join two young men waiting inside. He could hear the music cut back on from inside the house and relief overcame him as he knew his father wasn't in pursuit.
"Took you long enough," Jarrett scoffed. He was heavily built with long, curled black hair pulled back into what most would call a man-bun. A sleeveless shirt displayed the pink tanlines that stopped at his forearms, drawing attention to his pale vampire-like tone. If it wasn't for his appearance alone, it was clear every time that he opened his mouth that he was the alpha male type, as well as the head douchebag of the group. Guess that would explain why he was the only one of the three lacking a girlfriend. "Did you get it or what?"
"Rule number two." Enzo flashed an innocent smile as he lifted his hand to dangle a key in the air. It was a master key to all of the temporarily locks set up on the construction homes. For the ones that already have their doors installed, that is. He finished mocking his father, something that his two friends didn't quite catch, "Always keep a spare with you car key."
Avery leaned over the backseat, confusion read on his narrowed caramel-colored eyes. Normally a quick-witted guy, one that would pass all of his classes without even trying and was even awarded a college scholarship during his Junior year, it was clear by his perplexed expression that he wasn't immune to the effects of the joint Jarrett had passed to him just moments ago. He scratched at the patch of scruff bordering his chin. "I don't get it."
"You sure you got the right one?"
"Yep, pretty sure this is the master so we're all golden. Gonna be so lit!"
"No seriously." Avery shakes his head as he takes another hit before attempting to pass the nearly gone blunt along to Enzo. "What's rule number one?"
Enzo held his hand out but to block it. "I'm good, man. You know I don't smoke."
"Pussy." Jarrett said cynically, shoving past Enzo's arm to snatch it out from Avery's fingers. He held it to his lips, taking a heavy drag as he used his free hand to recklessly make a quick turn as he hit the gas pedal.
Enzo snapped his seatbelt as he tried not to make eye contact with Jarrett. Being the youngest one in their circle of friends, and a recovering recluse at that, he had a indecorous tendency of retracting back into his shell at the slightest signs of social turmoil.
As the SUV cut onto a neighboring street only a block away, wooden frames faded in the rearview as they begin to pass fully-built homes. Most of their yards were decorated with eerie ornaments and bloody props and, despite the sun still being out, several young children—most of which were accompanied by their parents—already littered the streets as they went from door-to-door to calm their sweet tooth.
The intense presence of the kids was not enough to convince Jarrett to drive like a normal civilian, and he swerved past one family as he made a sharp right to pull into his driveway. Two teenagers, dressed as matching green skeletons, stood on his porch as they rang the doorbell for a third time.
"No candy here!" he screamed through the rolled down passenger window, "Get lost, losers!"
Embarrassed, Enzo sank back into his seat in a poor attempt to hide himself behind the door frame. The kids quickly ran off down the street, almost so fast that one of them nearly dropped their bag of candy.
"Goddamn," Jarrett snarled as he placed the vehicle in park and killed the engine. "This is exactly why I hate Halloween."
Neither Avery or Enzo replied. They helped him unload the cases of liquor and beer from the trunk of the car and carried it into the house. Thankfully what appeared to be a somewhat newly-installed wheelchair ramp connecting from the driveway to the left side of the porch came in handy as they used a dolly to move the heavy boxes one large stack at a time.
Shouldn't be long now until the girls arrive to help set up.