Jim tossed his tool belt in the back of his pickup as he rolled his shoulders and stretched, hearing his vertebrae crack as he shook his arms out. His long and hot day was finally over, and it was time to join the crew down at the local bar and grab him a cold one. Just the thought of getting away from the job for two days put a smile on his face. He loved what he did, but was glad when the week drew to an end.
Like any working stiff, Jim always looked forward to Fridays.
The weekend made all the hard work he had done during the week well worth the time.
Life was good, and Jim smiled to himself as he looked at the construction site once more before leaving for the weekend.
Climbing in and starting his truck, he pulled out of the jobsite and into traffic. It was late Friday afternoon, and the streets were already packed. The traffic was moving at a modest pace, but Jim didn’t mind.
It was Friday, after all.
He wasn’t in a rush so he relaxed in his seat. He cranked his AC to full blast, turned his rock music up, and got into the weekend mode, tapping the tune out on his steering wheel as he drove along. Hmm…maybe he would meet up with Randy and fuck his brains out while he was in such a good mood. That always made his weekends better.
Jim smiled at the tempting and salacious thought.
Yeah, he loved Fridays.
Pulling into the parking lot of the bar the construction crew hung out at, he cut the engine. The Cricket was packed with pickups and motorcycles, Jim taking the last available parking spot.
Shoving his keys into the front pocket of his jeans, he strolled into loud and whooping chaos.
“Jimmy boy, you made it,” Hank slurred as he threw an arm over Jim’s shoulder, damn near knocking him over. Jim braced himself, stopping the fall before it happened. Fuck, how long had the foreman been at the bar? From his breath, it had been all day.
He shrugged Hank’s drunken arm off of him as he sauntered to the bar. Not even Hank was going to spoil his good mood. The man was a douche most of the time, and even if he was a friendly drunk, Jim still wasn’t going to deal with the man after work hours. The guys had gotten together and slapped a bumper magnet on the back of Hank’s truck that read TOTAL DOUCHEBAG, and Hank hadn’t noticed the magnet for a week. The men thought it was downright hilarious, until Hank found the magnet. Boy, was that a brutal week afterward.
Hank had no sense of humor.
It was still funnier than the time Mickey Lawarchek stuffed his half-eaten sub sandwich into Hank’s work boot. Hank wasn’t too happy about that either. The man needed to stop being an uptight asshole, and all would be good.
“Hey, Jim, what’ll it be?” Marybeth’s eyes brightened as she smiled at him.
“Ice-cold Budweiser,” he said as he scanned the bar. He was really trying to avoid the barmaid. Every time he came in, Marybeth hit on him. Too bad he didn’t swing that way. She was a nice-looking female, but she was missing the vital parts that made Jim’s blood run hot.
“Here you go. So, have you thought about us going out?” She pushed her breasts onto the bar, licking her bottom lip as she waited for him to answer.
It was going to be the same answer he gave her every time she asked.
“I’ll get back to you on that.” He sucked at the rim of the bottle, enjoying the sting of the cold brew. It was mid-August, and a scorcher out today. The ice-cold beer felt good as it cooled his dry and parched throat. Jim had been looking forward to not only the weekend, but grabbing him a cold one after work.
“You say that every Friday. I swear you’re just being polite. What’s wrong? Don’t you like girls?” Marybeth said it politely, teasingly, but Jim heard the anger and resentment in the undertone of her words.
“Like ’em fine.” For friends.
Looking around, Jim spotted his buddies. It was the table with the motleyest crew. Pushing away from the bar, he smiled as he sauntered over to his friends.
“Hey, Jimbo. I see they finally let you escape.” Rick laughed, raising his bottle and tapping it against Jim’s.
“Yeah. So what’s up?” Jim turned the seat around and straddled it. He sipped at the neck of his bottle as he watched the carpenters play a game of pool. This was his life, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He worked with a great bunch of guys, and his weekends were filled with lots of great sex. What more could he ask for? Randy was just the type of friend who knew the score. They hooked up for sex, no strings attached. His lover knew that Jim was in the closet, and he didn’t try to coax him out.
It worked well for Jim.
As he glanced around the room, Jim sighed, content with every aspect of his life.
Just seeing a finished building and knowing he had a hand in it was the most fulfilling feeling in the world to him. He loved working with power tools and laborers. The smell of sawdust and the killer-ass tan he got from working outdoors. He would never admit to these guys that he had a membership to a tanning salon to even out the rest of his body.
They were a rough bunch, and would probably needle him about tanning.
“Not much. John here thinks we should be finished with the rebar Monday. Maybe we can get that pour done on time just yet. Foreman’s breathing down our neck about deadlines.” Rick grinned then held his bottle up. “Here’s to hoping.”
They all laughed then clinked bottles.