The Builder 2 - The Yellow Hummer

"Stop sulking, grizzles."

"Grizzles? Really, Jordi, he's a grown man. A 32 year-old, grown man. Let's not forget he's one angry looking grown man," another voice quipped.

Four pairs of eyes were studying Jake at the dinner table. He hated coming home for dinner. His family, while incredibly supportive, were nothing but vultures when it came to his personal problems. Although, he would never actually admit that he had a problem. James, his younger brother, worked in the city. He was down in Somerset County for a supposed business trip, though it looked more like he came to mooch off his sister, Jordanna.

Jordanna did not quite like to be called Jordanna, mostly because it sounded too effeminate. "Jordi" stuck the day she punched Chris Klysters in the nose for calling her fat when she was six years old. Next to "Grizzles" was Jordi's four year-old daughter Jamie. The poor boy who was on the receiving end of Jordi's punch when she was six was now the poor man who was married to her. Chris Klysters stood to clear the dishes from the table. Jordi made a wicked bowl of chilli.

"Really, Jake, what's up with you? You glared at that little lady, Jo or whatever her name is, so hard that she may have shattered if she were made of glass," Jordi raged. She witnessed the whole debacle and rushed home to tell her husband and brother, who shrugged it off.

"Why are we discussing this anyway?" Jake groused.

"Yeah, Jordi, why are we?" Chris added.

Jordi silenced him with a look so fierce that he turned instantly and skulked into the kitchen with a stack of dishes in hand. James, who had not said a word so far, appeared distant. Ever the jester, he usually would be the first one to laugh at his elder brother. His silence had gone unnoticed this time.

"I'm out of here, guys. Chris, thank you for the hospitality. James, catch you tomorrow. Runt, I don't want to see you at my shop in the morning if you're going to keep bugging me."

"See? Grizzles is the perfect name for you. I, for one, think it's quite apt," Jordi squeaked.

Minutes later, Jake was in his rusty, old pick-up truck, heading home. He had a plan. He knew what needed to be done, and he knew he could no longer quell the urge to find out more about Jo. Everybody has a footprint, and he was determined to find out what hers looked like.

As he showered, he thought of ways to approach her, without looking like a ghoul from hell. He thought he may just keep it simple or maybe he would try to make her laugh. She really was quite a sight when she smiled. He would not forget it. He was not one for flowery words, but he could not stop himself from wanting to say cheesy words like “delightful”, “charming”, “exquisite” and “alluring”. Feeling restless, he tossed and turned all night, if the blankets in the morning were anything to go by.

He woke the next morning feeling anxious. He was going to do it today. He was going to introduce himself to her. He had his entire plan formed in his head and he was going to execute it to perfection. As he drove out to his shop, “Foster Brothers and Company Hardware”, he peered into The Coffee Grounds. He spotted her in an instant. Her back was to the glass window pane. As he parked, he noted that the waiters were enraptured – she was doing the “stir-lick-lick”. Good thing he had missed it. He did not want to lose sight of the goal.

He literally bounced out of the truck, slamming the door a little too hard. Wincing at the sound of the rusty, old door, he strode toward The Coffee Grounds like a man on a mission. Just as he reached the door, a mass of hair assaulted him. As the door slammed into his upturned face, hitting him in the chin, he felt something blunt stab into his toe.

“Oooomph.”

“Yeows!!” yelped the mass of hair which smelled quite nice, he noted.

“Holy cock and balls. I am so sorry! I did not see you there,” the mass of hair shrieked.

“Ow. Really, you didn’t see a 200 pound male idling towards the door? Are you blind? Wait a minute. Are you alright, miss?” he asked, a little to coarsely.

In an instant he knew he had made a grave mistake. The mass of hair was now clearing. A blood red pair of ankle boots, no doubt the damn things stabbed him in the foot, attached to a delectable pair of ankles and calves were now backing away from him. As she shoved her hair away from her face with one hand and rubbed her knee with the other, he found himself looking down at the enigma that was Jo. She was smiling at him again.

“Hah. I can’t believe I just said ‘yeows’! How funny is that? Gosh, holy shit. I can’t believe I hit you like that. I, uh, I, just remembered something and had to dash out to get it. I’m really sorry, uh, Jake. It is Jake, right?”

“You’re a potty mouth,” he heard himself saying. What was he doing? This was not how it had all panned out in his head. He was being a royal jerk again and for the life of him, he could not figure out why.

“Heh. I’m sorry, again. Now, I really must go. If you’re sure you’re alright then I guess I’ll be off,” she said as she turned. He watched her walk away, still gripping the door handle, trying to fathom what had just happened. She had an interesting walk, or run, he could not quite spot a difference.

As if spurred, he followed her. Down past the pharmacy and towards the candy store. When she turned left, he ducked into the candy store. Not able to stop following her, he chastised himself for being a stalker. He walked a few more blocks, keeping a safe distance from her and then waited as she pulled out her car keys and jumped into a big, yellow Hummer. Funny, how he nor anyone else had never noticed the hulk of a car on the street before. She fired up the truck, and deftly pulled out.

He turned away in time to make sure she did not see him. As she drove past him, he thought he heard the distinctive, awful sound of trance music.

“Great, a potty mouth that listens to house music. How old is she, 16?” he muttered out loud, only to receive a glare from Mr Parks, the self-proclaimed leader of the neighbourhood watch.

“Oi, boy, now listen here. I don’t want you to go all crazy on me and start talking to yourself, and talking nonsense at that. Get your act together,” he scolded.

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that, Mr Parks. Won’t happen again,” he automatically answered, momentarily distracted by the gigantic mole sprouting hair on Mr. Parks’ forehead. Drawn out of his ruminations by the harsh tapping of Mr. Parks’ walking stick on his shin, he reversed himself and headed straight for his truck.

With not a minute to lose, he revved the old engine, heard it groan and pushed it into gear. He flew down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the roaring, yellow truck. He spotted James’ stylish black Mustang parked in the alley just past the coffee shop and paid no attention to it. He was a man on a mission, after all. After a minute or so, he spotted it. He noted the speed he was going and realised she was going 70 miles an hour, in a 30 zone. She was outrageous and, while he would only admit it to himself, very adorable.

As she approached the housing area, she slowed down and turned into Penny Lane. There was nothing much on Penny Lane apart from the Funeral Home and unused Coroner’s Quarters. He stopped on the side of the road as she ventured further down the lane, heading straight for the county Coroner’s office. He got out, adjusted his collar and stood beside his truck as he watched her park and dismount from the colossal truck.

She fished out a bunch of keys from a ridiculous teddy bear which had a zip on it and unlocked the door to the office. As soon as she was inside, she locked the door and disappeared inside. As he approached the office, he heard the blaring sound of music. It was house music again, he realised. He moved toward a window and peered inside, and was horrified.

Read Chapter 1 if you missed it!