For the time being, it would be stupid to bite the hand that was feeding them. “What have you got for me?” he grumbled.
Scanlan pinched up the creases of his slacks as he sat back down. He reached for a folder, opened it, and ran his index finger down a column of figures. “Ah, there’s a cubicle on the second floor that’s available. Number 1120. You can move your supplies in there today and begin tomorrow.”
“You’re putting me back on a drawing board?” Dillon shouted. “What the hell are you trying to pull?”
“That’s the only job I currently have available. Take it or leave it.”
Dillon muttered a string of French obscenities.
“It goes without saying,” Scanlan added, “that the job of draftsman doesn’t pay as much as field work, so your salary will be scaled down until it’s commensurate with the position.”
“You must really be enjoying this,” Dillon said.
Scanlan smiled pleasantly. “Enormously.”
“I can’t go back to drawing. There’s got to be something else.”
Scanlan assessed him for a moment, then swiveled his chair around and pulled a folder from the built-in filing cabinet behind him. “Actually, I just remembered something. We recently acquired a property in Mississippi that needs massive renovation before it can be utilized productively and profitably. Are you interested?”
* * *
Dillon summed up his explanation to Debra. “So it’s either take the job in Mississippi or start drafting again.” He socked his fist against his opposite palm. “I don’t know why I didn’t bust the little bastard and walk out.”
“Yes, you do. You’re not a street fighter any longer. You’re a family man, a professional, who isn’t going to let slimy characters like Scanlan defeat you.”
“Well, right now this slimy character is holding the aces, and he damn well knows it. After I left him, I tried to set up job interviews. I must have made two dozen phone calls. The answer was always the same. Nobody has any work. Nobody is hiring.”
“Short of separating Scanlan’s body from his head, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know, Debra.” He dropped onto the sofa and tiredly rubbed his eyes. “I sure as hell don’t want to go back to drafting.”
“Then you’ll take the other job, and we’ll move to Mississippi.”
Dillon plucked Charlie off Debra’s lap and settled him in the crook of his elbow. The baby tightly clutched his father’s index finger. “I’ve got an alternative. It’s not great, but keep in mind that it’s only temporary.”
After he had laid out his alternate plan, she asked, “Where would you live?”
“In the trailer at the site. I could make do with a cot, a small refrigerator, and a hotplate.”
“What about a bathro
om?”
“I’ll use the Port-o-lets. And the building I’ll be working on has a shower room. Scanlan gave me the plans to study before I make my decision.”
Her expression relayed her lack of enthusiasm. “You’d come home every weekend?”
“Without fail. I swear.”
“I don’t see why we can’t all move to Mississippi.”
“Because Scanlan would likely pull me off the job the minute we got settled. He could keep us hopscotching indefinitely.”
“But this is indefinite, too,” she said plaintively. “He could keep you there forever.”
Dillon stubbornly shook his head. “I won’t have the emotional attachment to this job the way I did to the building in Versailles. I’ll leave it flat the minute I hear of anything opening up. I’ve left applications all over town. Something’s bound to come through before too long.
“Scanlan has never forgiven me for pulling rank on him in France. He got his revenge on Forrest G., and now he’s given me a choice between a shit detail and moving back into one of those damned glass boxes. He expects me to take that because it’s easier. I don’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction.”