Get Big

I was laid off from across the street when the little fat man’s brother walked on site like the Prodigal Son. He was homeless and destroyed. I’d heard about him endlessly. They used to be partners. He’d gotten hooked on meth. He’d robbed his brother of tools and sold them, he stole tools from other workers, didn’t show up for days on end, and so on. He’d clean up for awhile, then get back on it and start stealing again. Meth and the desert went hand in hand. But the guy showed up out of nowhere with a long beard and two different shoes.

“Hey, Woody.”

The little fat man turned. His brother took off his cap and held it at his waist:

“I’m sorry as hell, man.”

They embraced and cried. I wanted to puke. Woody walked over and let me go. He said he had to do it, that he knew the guy would fuck him over again, but he had to take him back. It was family. We walked to his truck and he wrote me out a check. He threw in an extra week’s pay. He shook my hand and went back to work. I folded the check and put it in my pocket, walked across the site and found a crew raising a wall. After they set it I walked over to the lead. We’d seen each other around. His name was Vince. Vince was a short bodybuilder. He was really thin on top. Sleeves were out of the question for him. He wore wrap-around sunglasses. The sun had baked his skin almost purple. He wore the same shirt every day, a sleeveless black rag with the words GET BIG on the front. We had nothing in common. I asked him for a job.

“You hiring, Vince?”

“Aren’t you Woody’s guy?”

“I was. His brother needed a job.”

“Jesus.”

He looked at my tool belt, “Can you sink a nail and read a tape?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Can you frame?”

“No.”

“I could use a laborer. Woody paying you around twelve an hour?”

“Around there.”

“I’ll give you ten. That alright?”

“That’s fine.”

We walked to his truck and I filled out the forms. It was hot, so hot that we stood in waves.

“Walk with me and we’ll talk to Barry. He’s my foreman. When I’m not here it’s his crew.

The roach coach pulled in. The roach coach girl was famous on site. She and Vince had a thing going. The workers took off their belts and headed over. I saw Luke walking to the coach. He had walked across the street the day after I did. He was a plumber. He had dusty blonde hair and clear blue eyes, some kind of drunken surfer. And we were far from having the ocean. The desert was vast to the horizon but it was ugly. I shook my head at him. He gave me the finger. Vince had a loud whistle. He waved Barry over. Barry tossed his smoke and shook his head. He walked over slowly. Vince talked under his breath, “Come on, goddamnit.”

Barry stopped and lit another smoke. He walked over.

“Barry, this is Sean. He’s your new laborer.”

Barry nodded to me. I nodded back. Vince glanced to the roach coach then over to him, “Woody cut him loose today. His brother’s back.”

Barry looked me, “I’ll take him.”

Vince jogged off for the coach. Barry watched him jog.

“You grabbing lunch, Sean?”

“Hell no. I’m not paying four bucks for a fucking sandwich.”

“I am. Fuck it.”

After lunch I worked with the crew. I cut wood and climbed stairs, handed up sheets of ply for floors and walls. At two o’clock Barry called break. We sat in the frame on buckets. A lot of the crew lifted with Vince at their gym. I sat away from them in a different frame. Barry sat next to me, “You live in that house across the street?”

“Yes, I do.”

He smiled. He was in his late forties. He had curly hair and deep crow’s feet around his sockets. He wore his cigarettes in his shirt pocket. He was quiet. He knew the trade like the back of his hand. I sensed that Vince hired him for no other reason. They weren’t buddies. I looked at his fingers, “Not married, Barry?”

“I was.”

He put out his smoke and walked into the other room and waved the crew on. We worked another hour.

The next day at lunch I walked to the coach with Barry. I hadn’t bought anything off the coach before. I had a little extra on me, so I thought I’d buy a cold drink and a piece of fruit. Barry hit me up for a smoke in line. The roach coach girl was Sheila. Sheila was a hot desert rat. She wore half shirts and little shorts. The workers drooled over her and she loved it. I didn’t know how Vince wormed his way in. I didn’t really care. Barry and I were last in line. I let him go first. Sheila was a ball of raspy energy.

“Hey, Barry baby!”

“Hey, Sheila.”

She handed him the change, “Hey, who’s the new guy?”

“This is Sean.”

“Hello, Sheila.”

She smiled at Barry, “Fresh meat!”

She winked at me. I paid for the drink and the orange.

“You worked here long?”

“A little while. I work for your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. You mean Vince?”

“I don’t really know. Don’t listen to me.”

“Why don’t you ask me out and see what I say?”

I put the change in my pocket, “Appreciate it. Have a good night, Sheila.”

Barry smiled at me. He didn’t smile much. Over the next couple of weeks we worked together a lot. And every day at lunch Sheila asked me questions. She asked me where I lived. I pointed to the house. She laughed. Vince picked up on it. Whenever he saw me at the coach he was there like the wind. I never made any hints or compliments to Sheila. Barry was loving it. He hated Vince. I started to understand it. Vince only worked half the day. When he talked to people he bounced his chest muscles back and forth. His lantern jaw had the same amount of stubble every day. Everything was on purpose with him. Beneath the muscles and wrap-arounds he was nothing but a candy ass. He always said we were behind schedule. It was his way of keeping the crew efficient. I thought it was slimy. The guys that lifted with him on the crew were smaller than him, and they worshipped the ground he walked on.

Luke had a thing going with Emma down the street. Emma lived in a one bedroom house, literally, and she had pierced nipples. Sometimes she’d walk over and knock on the side door that opened to his room. Her boyfriend had been the singer of a band that had gotten famous. He’d overdosed twice, but the third time had taken him out. She still carried a torch. Luke didn’t really mind. They weren’t exclusive. She was too gothic for him, gothic but built. She was in her early thirties. She said our house was haunted. I didn’t know where she got that. She had her shoulders capped with dragons and flowers. One day on the job she brought me a gallon of water. She walked through the site during lunch and the workers cheered her. She gave them the finger. They cheered louder. She handed me the water, “Luke told me you switched crews. Just thinking about you, babe.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

She walked away. I walked to the coach to buy a banana. Sheila smiled.

“Was that your girlfriend?”

“No. She’s Luke’s girl. Damn nice of her, though.”

I turned around and almost bumped into Vince.

“Excuse me, Vince.”

That night was Wednesday. It was Wednesday because the trash was empty. I was the only one who took the trash out. Bruce lived there, too. Bruce was fat for a long time. I left town for a few months. When I came back he was thin. He quit wearing shirts. He was a bartender now. The bar was four blocks from the house. He was sitting at the table drinking a beer and reading the paper, “Hey, your lady called from Vegas.”

“Was it important?”

“Didn’t sound like it.”

I stood in the kitchen and opened a bottle of aloe vera. Bruce opened another bottle at the table, “I don’t see how you fuckers stand it over there.”

I smeared the aloe on my face and shoulders. I tossed Bruce the bottle and pointed to my back, “Honey?”

He spread it around, “Fucking faggot.”

“In Greece it’s considered a rite to manhood.”

“Yeah, this ain’t Greece.”

I drank from his beer and dialed the ex in Vegas, collect. She wasn’t home. Bruce tilted his beer at me, “Oh fuck. I almost forgot. She said she was going to Seattle for a week. That’s right.” He walked to his room. I slammed his beer and took a shower. I ran the shower cold to get some relief from the heat. The house didn’t have air conditioning, but it had a swamp cooler. It kept the summer away from us by a few inches. Bruce walked to work. Luke and I sat in the living room. He was talking about Saturday. We had a big backyard. It was deep with high trees. Sometimes we had so many people back there they spilled out in the front yard. But that’s when the cops came. The best part about Saturday was the drunken girls. The girls we knew were insanely beautiful. A couple of times we had to break up a brawl here and there, but the weekends were mostly good. I had no delusions of having a steady girlfriend again. There were too many girls at once. Every weekend I had a different one. Sometimes even two. It was a good time. No drama, no responsibility except keeping ourselves sober enough after the fire was put out.

I laid on my bed and listened to Sabbath. I smoked a joint and read Vollman. The Sun had fallen and I was stoned. The words leaped from the page and splashed me. He was talking about hookers and red lights in San Francisco. I liked the room. I had a dim lamp and my bed was huge. I had a couch and coffee table across from the bed. It was good being alone in there. My time in the room after work was sacred. I didn’t have a window anymore. Two weekends back it was erased by something. Nobody owned up to it.

I reached over and flipped the cassette. The music and the pages were beautiful. A fist holding a six pack reached into my window, so I took it. A long bare leg found the mattress. Sheila pulled herself in and sat on the bed. She kissed me, “Hello, Sean.”

She squinted at me, “Are you stoned?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Nice room. I didn’t know which one was yours. I had to spy. Sorry.”

She opened two beers. She was wearing her white shorts. I took the beer.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d see what you were like. You read, huh?”

“Do you read?”

She kicked off her flip flops, “Not really. I’d rather watch a movie.”

“Got it.”

She laid on her stomach. Her ass looked good like that. She flipped the book over and saw the cover. She turned over on her back and slid her shorts off.

At lunch the next day I sat with Barry in another frame. I watched Vince at the coach. I didn’t walk over. Sheila smiled at me. Barry lit a smoke, “You’re being quiet today. What gives?”

“Barry, if I tell you something you have to swear to god you won’t tell another soul.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious.”

“What happened?”

“Last night Sheila climbed into my room. She didn’t leave for a few hours. You know.”

We stared at the coach. I nodded, “You think that’s fucked up?”

He smiled ahead, “No, I think that’s wonderful.”

We sat there. He looked at me, “Was it fun?”

“It was.”

Vince walked to his truck and took off. Sheila waved me over. Everybody was going back to work. Barry smiled, “You better go over there.”

Sheila was closing up.

“You thirsty?” She handed me a soda.

“Thanks.”

“Listen, don’t worry about anything, okay?”

“Alright.”

“I like you, Sean. But it was only sex. I don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of psycho.”

“Good to hear. I just don’t want Vince going ape shit on me.”

“Are you worried about that?”

“Not so much in the fighting sense. I just don’t want to lose my job.”

“I had fun last night.”

“Same here. You’re insane.”

She laughed, “Any time you want some more all you have to do is ask.”

“You know where the window is.”

“I’m taking off this weekend. My sister lives in Cottonwood. Tonight I have plans, then I leave in the morning. My brother’s covering the coach.”

Barry called me over.

“I have to go.”

“See you later, Sean.”

Friday night Luke and I cleaned the house and the backyard. It was a good deal. Everybody brought booze. All we did was supply the venue. These two crazy brothers we knew had a connection and they brought two kegs almost every time. They were twins. Everybody left the bars on Saturday nights and came over. We cleaned the backyard and I went to sleep.

Bruce scored a big box fan from one of his girlfriends. I woke up and walked out into the kitchen. It was actually cooler in the house. He had the fan set up in the window. It blew the hot air away.

“Morning, Bruce. Good going with the fan.”

“We needed something in here. It’s pretty effective. I had no idea.”

“Shit, we’ve been suffering like fools. Where’s Luke?”

“Went out to get a new shovel. His busted. I think he was stopping by Emma’s work for a few drinks. We’ll see him later on. He’ll be there until three o’clock, as usual.”

We made breakfast and drank coffee. I poured some juice and took a vitamin. Bruce was off on Saturdays. We did the same thing every Saturday, pumped ourselves full of nutrients before the night came and destroyed us. At four o’clock somebody was knocking. I walked into the living room and opened the door. He was wearing torn jeans and a white t-shirt. I let him in.

“Barry, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Slumming.”

“Don’t talk against the house. Want a drink?”

“Thought I’d check out one of these parties I always hear about.”

“Hell, yes. Stick around.”

Bruce took off to pick up some food. I gave Barry a tour and pointed out the sentimental holes and stains. Luke was out back digging the pit.

“Luke, this is my evil boss. Barry, this is Luke.”

Barry shook his hand, “Sorry you have to live with this guy.”

“Tell me about it.”

Luke dug the pit a little wider every weekend. There didn’t seem to be a reason for it. I never asked him, just in case he knew something I didn’t. Barry nodded to him.

“See, if Sean worked like that for me I’d give his ass a raise.”

Luke dug on, “Don’t count on it.”

Barry smiled, “How wide are you taking it, Luke?”

“I have a plan. We have a fire every weekend. I never really get to hang out back here because I’ll be in a room with some chick.”

“Not since Emma,” I said.

He kept digging, “Right, but that’s part of the plan. As anybody can plainly see, I’m the best looking one in the house. Emma gets off work at eleven tonight. She’s working a double. I’ll have time to stand by the fire. I’ll stand there looking into it, all mysterious and half lit by the flames, lone wolf style. By the time Emma gets here I’ll be covered with pheromones, and she’ll take me into my room and give me her greatest fuck ever.”

Barry stared into the pit, “Makes sense. See, Sean, you need to apply that kind of calculation to your own life.”

Luke nodded, “You should listen to this guy. You might learn something.”

“A bunch of bullshit, maybe.”

He dug and smiled into the pit, “At least that’s something.”

Not as many people showed up because there was a big blowout happening in the desert north of Phoenix. Some bands were playing and the booze was free. It was an all-nighter. But Luke’s plan was working. He stood by the fire and Emma came over and they went to his room. Barry and I sat out back and drank. I saw Tiffany and one of her friends walk through the backyard. She and I had a thing going before I left town for Vegas. She was a stripper and a wild drunk, tall and Italian. Her body didn’t know where to stop or what to do with itself. She ran over and jumped into my lap, “Sean!”

Her friend walked over and sat by us. She sat across from Barry. I’d met her twice before. Tiffany put her arms around me, “You finally came to your senses and left Las Vegas for me?”

Barry was frozen. Tiffany liked to wear thigh-high boots. She had big fake breasts and a mole on her cheek. The mole was fake. She kissed me and sat on the log next to Barry. I lit two smokes and handed one to her.

“This is Barry.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“He took pity on me and let me work with his crew across the street.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. Thank you, Barry.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “Barry, this is my friend, Laura. She works with me.”

Laura kissed him on the other cheek, “You’re a sweetheart. I can tell.”

“Hey, thanks.” Barry smiled at the ground. He was completely lost there. I laughed. Bruce walked over with Crazy Mary. She rode her beach cruiser around town. She came by the house a lot and ate our food. Sometimes she broke in and drank our beer. But she was fine, crazy and fine and off limits. Bruce had put the red flag on her from the start. He handed me a beer, “It’s dying off here. Me and Mary are catching a ride to the desert. You going out there with us? Hey, Tiff. When did you get here?”

“I heard Sean was back in town. I wanted to see him. Even though he hasn’t called me.”

“I’ve been working. Barry cracks the whip hard.”

Laura smiled at Barry, “Ohhhh...”

“I think I’ll stay here. You two go ahead.”

They left. I put the fire out. We sat in my room and drank. Tiffany and Laura were loaded. Barry watched them dance and strip on the coffee table. I laid on my bed and turned up the music. Tiffany laughed and jumped onto the bed with me. Laura sat next to Barry on the couch. She pressed her chest into his arm, “You’re such a sweetheart. I like you.” She buried her tongue in his mouth and squeezed the front of his jeans. She unzipped his fly and started bobbing. He sat there in shock. Tiffany was sitting on top of me drinking her beer. Laura pulled Barry’s shirt over his zipper and stood with his hand in hers, “Come on, Barry.”

She took him into Bruce’s room and closed the door. Tiffany and I went at it hard until it was impossible to move anymore. Laura still had Barry across the hall. She was wrecking him.

In the afternoon they were gone. Tiffany took me out for lunch. She dropped me off and I spent Sunday laying around and recovering.

Monday morning at work Barry was being quiet. He sat by himself at lunch, in another building. Sheila gave me a burrito. I walked over and sat next to Barry. I pulled out a smoke and held the pack to him. He took one. I lit him up, “What’s your problem?”

“I feel weird about what happened.”

“Why are you feeling weird about it? You got laid by a hot stripper.”

“I’m a forty-seven year old man. I just got divorced. I haven’t been with a woman besides my wife in twenty three years.”

“What were you going to do? Jack off for the rest of your life?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re a young man.”

“Oh, shit. Once you start working and paying bills it’s all the same. You need to relax. So you got a little loose. You needed to, man. You had a no strings attached fuck-a-thon. Rejoice, be happy.”

“Laura just left my house this morning. Said she wants to see me tonight. You know how old that girl is?”

“She said she was twenty-seven.”

“No, she’s thirty-four. I couldn’t believe it, either. She made me swear not to tell anyone.”

“I thought she might have been full of shit about her age. But she looks good.”

“I know. But I haven’t been close to a woman in a long time. Almost five years.”

“See what happens with it. It’s just life.”

“Goddamn she’s alive, though. I almost feel like I’m thirty again.”

“Go with it, Barry. And fuck all the hang-ups. Look around you. Who’s really living?”

Back at the house I showered and made dinner. I looked across the street to the site. I washed the dishes and laid in my room. I was almost halfway through Vollman. I reached over and lit a roach from my ashtray. I played some Descendants then decided on Tom Petty. I turned the pages and sailed off into the streets of San Francisco. Sheila crawled through my window with a bottle of wine.