Polished Read Online Free Page B

into the city?”
    Spencer tried not to roll his eyes. “Not too bad, I guess.” An awkward moment passed as they walked among the swarm of people hustling to work. Spencer forced himself to be cordial. “How ’bout you?”
    Jack smiled, revealing his perfect teeth. “I’ve got a place in SoHo. This is the best commute I could ask for.”
    Spencer wasn’t surprised that Jack had a swanky spot in a trendy neighborhood—a nice little pad to impress the ladies with, no doubt. Spencer glanced at Jack’s left hand. No ring. Didn’t mean he wasn’t married. He could be one of those guys who didn’t like to wear their ring on the work site. Spencer started to ask, but the question of why the hell he should care popped into his head first, so he kept his mouth shut.
    He was saved from the awkward silence by an electronic chirping. Jack removed his phone from his front pocket and answered, with an apologetic glance in Spencer’s direction. Jack had been wearing a suit the first time they’d met. From the newness of his intentionally distressed dark-wash jeans, it didn’t look like he’d been on too many job sites before.
    “Bullshit, that’s not what we discussed,” Jack said into his phone. “Who approved that?” He had started to lag behind and Spencer gave him his privacy. If it was anything Spencer needed to know about, Jack could brief him on it once they got to the trailer.
    Spencer strode on ahead, sweat already beading at his temples. It was going to be a hot one. Something about the way the city concrete held onto summer heat made him think of it like a big kiln. It must have been weeks since it had rained. Though clouds threatened overhead, the weather girl on the news last night had promised they wouldn’t bear fruit.
    All Spencer knew was that this trailer had better be air-conditioned.
     
     
     
    “So how exactly do you figure we’ll still keep to schedule with half-grade explosives?” Jack couldn’t believe what his supplier was telling him. “I don’t give a damn what you have on your requisition form. I never approved that.” Jack swallowed hard and realized he’d been standing in the middle of the sidewalk, yelling at the top of his lungs. He took a breath and started again in a calmer voice. “Look, I know this isn’t your fault. Who signed for that change?”
    The whiny voice on the other end grated on his nerves. “Says J. Rothman on the slip. Isn’t that you?”
    Jack locked his jaw and blew a sigh. “Fine. Go ahead and deliver it.” Old Jackson was up to his usual tricks. He’d already made Jack cut the demolition crew and now he’d gone ahead and specified half-grade explosives at half the price. The job would require a level of precision that was almost superhuman. He hoped Spencer was up to the task.
    By the time he reached the office trailer, the good mood he’d been in had fallen as flat as a pancake. Spencer was inside and checking out the site maps pinned to the wall.
    “Did you meet Shirley?” Jack asked, waving to the middle-aged woman in a faded NYU sweatshirt sitting behind a small desk.
    “Shuaw he did,” she said in her thick Brooklyn accent.
    Jack nodded and almost got right to work with Spencer, but the sweatshirt and the big smile on Shirley’s rosy face reminded him of something. “Hey, did your granddaughter get her acceptance letter?”
    Shirley beamed. “Got it on Saturday! I found this sweatshirt at the thrift shop yesterday. Some kind of luck, right? She starts in the spring. Full scholarship. The whole nine yards.”
    Jack’s heart warmed and a genuine smile flooded over his face. “That’s great, Shirl. She’s a bright girl. Congratulations to her.”
    Shirley nodded and resumed stamping the morning invoices. She had been with Rothman Development since Jack was a boy, getting him hot chocolates and grilled corn muffins from the corner deli when his father had brought him along to work.
    Spencer echoed the congratulations. “My girlfriend