[chapter thirty-one]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
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~Jasmine's POV~
"Fucking hell, Carter!" I say, getting right in the face of the contractor I've worked with a million times. "You said done by Wednesday. And here it is Friday, and this place is a fucking mess."
"Fuck you, Jones!" He shoots back, his eyes blazing. "The guys said they could get it done, and they didn't. Not my problem."
"Not your problem? You're the fucking contractor! Not your problem that not only did they screw up the molding in this room but they also routed an electrical socket wrong and completely fucked the papering in the downstairs bedroom?" I fire back, putting my hands on my hips and assuming a 'don't fuck with me today' stance. "And need I even mention the huge mess they made of that beautiful counter in the bathroom?"
Carter looks at me for a moment, knowing he's in the wrong. I know him well - we've worked together for years, and occasionally have these shouting matches when the men he employs don't do the job they promised. I'm not mad at him, he's not mad at me, we just do this. "I'll take care of it." He finally relents and I push out a deep breath.
"Either you do, or they deal with me going all pissy on their ass."
"In a way, I'd prefer to see that, myself." Carter says, finally smiling a little and I can't help but grin.
"I don't think either one of us want me in full bitch mode to the guys we work with."
"You around for a few more minutes? These drawings for the master bedroom need explaining."
"Yeah. Lemme grab a few things, and I'll meet you upstairs."
I angrily throw my hair over my shoulder as I lean over to look at the wiring plans Carter had drawn up for the downstairs rec area, trying to make heads or tails of it.
"Carter!"
"What?!"
"Get your ass over here!"
"Jesus Christ, Jones. Keep your panties on."
I tap my foot impatiently as Carter ambles back in the room and joins me at the table. "You can't route this there. Those lamps are too hot to be that close to the paint, and the ceiling fan is going to fuck it all to hell. Did you guys already start on this?"
"Not yet."
"And again with the scheduling."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck off."
Together we make a few pencil revisions, each conceding to the other on certain points, and within a minute have the plans the way they need to be to work on Jeff Gordon's expansive house.
"This has to be perfect, okay? This house has to be, has to look absolutely perfect." I say earnestly. "Please, Carter."
"Jas … "
"And not weeks and weeks from now, okay?"
He looks at me for a moment. "Okay. You're the boss. It'll be perfect. I promise."
"Thank you." I say, my voice filled with sincerely. "Thank you."
Carter walks back out of the room and I sink down onto Jeff's beaten up couch.
"It has to be perfect. I have to make this perfect for him." I mutter to myself, doodling additions and changes on my plans. "Perfect."
Even if I've fucked up Jeff's personal life, I can make his home, his surroundings beautiful.
It's the least I can do.