CHAPTER 2: Bring On The Rain

KELLY

I guess I should warn you guys right off the bat that I’m not really

the writer that Chayse is. I mean, I can jot down words, but Chayse

is spell-checking all of this for me. The last literary masterpiece I

read was "Field and Stream Magazine". But I’m gonna

try my best -- bear with me, okay?

It was the day that Chayse was going to meet me for lunch. Just some

sandwiches and stale chips, but I’d been looking forward to it for

days. She had met me for lunch a few times before. I always gave her

a hardhat and a tour of the place we were working on, then we’d go to

the blueprint/foreman’s trailer and eat out of lunchboxes like school

kids.

This day was special, because I was going to ask her to come away with

me for a weekend. It was spring and I wanted to see the countryside

after such a cold, bitter winter. My brother Joey owned a cabin

upstate and I was planning our getaway. . .

Well, I couldn’t really ask her with that little assistant guy there.

I didn’t know he was coming until he showed up, practically bouncing

off the walls from being so excited to be at a "real, live construction

site!" I looked at Chayse questioningly and she smiled

and said, "I invited PeeWee to lunch. I hope you don’t mind."

Man, after that smile she gave me, I wouldn’t care if she’d invited

Richard Simmons to lunch. Then again, she might as well have.

After the introductions were made, PeeWee (how the hell does a guy get

the name PeeWee?) began asking me questions about the site. How many

people were working there? What kind of training do they get? Do they

lift weights? Do they take off their shirts in the summer and pop open

a Coke like on that old commercial? Yeah, I’m serious, he actually asked

me that. I said I didn’t know. He said he’d walk by sometime

in the summer to find out.

Chayse giggled and pretended to be watching one of our beefier

electricians walk by. Oh, how she likes to torture me. Then she said

in a calm, innocent voice, "Why don’t we go eat?"

"Sounds good," I said, relieved at the interruption to the odd

interrogation.

Inside the trailer, PeeWee studied the blueprints and chewed through

an entire box of granola bars. He muttered about the size of beams as

Chayse and I had -- surprisingly -- a very nice lunch.

"So how’s Jack’s foot healing up?" she asked, referring to my co-worker

who had a 5-ton steel beam drop on his foot. Man, not even

steel-toe boots can fight that.

"Okay, I guess. His wife came out here last week. She brought us some

brownies. Said that Jack made ‘em."

"He cooks?" Chayse said, raising her eyebrows in interest. "Hmm,

maybe I’ll have to give him a call."

"You better not, if you know what’s good for you," I teased back.

"Besides, I think she made the brownies, but she was trying to make

Jack look like he wasn’t the useless sap he probably feels like right

now."

"When can he come back to work?" she asked, dabbing the corners of her

mouth with a napkin.

"After months and months of painful physical therapy," I said. I

took a sip of coffee and grimaced at its bitter taste. Chayse took

one look at my scowl and wordlessly dropped a sugar cube in my cup.

"Thanks."

"Mm-hm." She was reading the newspaper with a concentration that drew

her eyebrows together. She bit her lip and frowned, then flipped to an

inside page, her eyes scanning the page in concern.

"What’s wrong?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh. Nothing." She set the paper down and smiled brightly.

"I was just reading that the C.E.O of Harper Productions is marrying a

waitress from Seventh Avenue."

I laughed at her dejected tone and asked, "Why, did you want to marry

the guy?"

"No!" Chayse replied, her blue eyes becoming round with mirth. "But I

sure will miss that waitress!"

"Oh my goodness!" PeeWee broke in suddenly. He was peering out the

window with a frown.

"What’s wrong, PeeWee?" Chayse asked, lowering her coffee cup.

"It’s beginning to rain! And I don’t have an umbrella, nor a hat. My

hair is going to frizz out in this damp air, and. . ." PeeWee rambled

on about his hair. I watched Chayse stand just as the rain began to

come down and tap on the roof of the trailer.

"Does this mean you get to go home early, Kelly?" she asked softly.

"No," I said, standing and stretching. "We’ll put on some rain gear

and go back up."

PeeWee had opened the door, making the papers inside the small trailer

swirl around in the breeze. Chayse looked out the open door at the

skyscraper we were working on for some wealthy businessman-slash-entrepreneur-

slash-industrialist and frowned.

"You’re going to go all the way up there?" she asked, pointing to the

top of the steel frame. "It’s going to be slippery and wet and

windy. . ."

I chuckled and grabbed her up in my arms, nuzzling her neck and

smelling her soft peach shampoo. "I’m glad you’re concerned,

sweetheart," I whispered throatily,"but I’ll be just fine."

Chayse fingered the seam of my blue t-shirt and blushed a little.

"C’mon Chayse, let’s get back to the office before it gets worse!"

PeeWee cried. He was now outside the trailer, looking up at the dark,

gathering clouds in distress.

"Okay," she called back. She looked up at me with a shy smile and

kissed the side of my mouth before whispering, "Just be careful,

Kelly. Okay?"

I nodded and watched her scamper down the rickety stairs and away

with PeeWee, who grabbed her arm and tried in vain to lift his jacket

over his precious hair.