Page 48 of Not Safe For Work

My crew and I fell into our usual comedy routine, which distracted me enough from Rick’s existence to keep me focused on finishing the Rainier house model.

“Jesus, Bianca.” Teagan wrinkled her nose as she walked by Bianca’s desk. “How can you eat that crap this early in the morning?”

Bianca gestured with her cup of instant ramen noodles. “What? It’s good.”

“It’s disgusting, especially at this hour.”

Cal laughed. “This from the woman who thinks raw fish carcass draped over rice is a delicacy.”

“Not my fault you have no taste.” Teagan shrugged and leaned over her nearly completed model. As she carefully laid a corner piece into place on the roof, she said, “Sushi is a delicacy, at least for the civilized among us.”

“If fish was intended to be eaten raw,” Cal said matter-of-factly, focusing on his screen as he spoke, “God wouldn’t have invented beer batter.”

I grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

“What?”

“Taking a perfectly good fish and frying it like that.” I glanced up from struggling with yet another oddly-shaped plastic window that just did not want to go into its slot. “And have you ever even tried sushi? Or are you just talking out your ass again?”

“I have tried it, and I’ll never try it again. It’s gross.” Cal craned his neck. “Scott, do you have the specs handy for the Shelton building?”

“Right here.” Scott held up a half-unfurled drawing. “Why?”

“On the south exterior wall, I need a length—”

“Oh, I’ll just bet you do,” Teagan said.

Scott grabbed a stapler and reared back like he was going to throw it.

Before he could let it go, though, Teagan pointed a finger at him and gave him a menacing look. “Don’t you dare.”

“You started it,” he said, still holding up the stapler.

She gestured at the nearly completed shopping center. “You want to explain to Beelzebub why this has a stapler-shaped hole in it?”

Scott glared at her, then set the stapler on the edge of his desk for her to retrieve. There were perks to being a modeler instead of a drafter, and one of those perks was the ability to throw something at a drafter without running the risk of having it thrown back. That’s not to say they didn’t find other ways of getting back at us. Teagan and I had learned a long, long time ago to inspect every model right before turning it in, just in case there was any pornographic “art” on the walls or a few Lego figurines in compromising positions.

Scott and Cal went back to exchanging necessary measurements on the Shelton project while Teagan and I resumed working on our models. The music—some ungodly rap shit today—kept a thumping beat in the background, and we kept bantering over the top of it.

“Hey, Dave,” Bianca said.

Silent Dave, lost in his own little world, didn’t respond.

“Dave.”

Nothing.

“Dave.”

Still nothing.

Scott held up a pencil and raised his eyebrows. “Need me to get his attention?”

Bianca nodded. “Would you?”

The pencil sailed through the air and bounced across Silent Dave’s keyboard, narrowly missing his hands. He jumped, looked at us and pulled his headphones off. “What?”

Bianca gestured at her screen. “You need to rework the south and west exterior walls on that house for Larson Properties.”