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The week after I heard Cindy calling out my name as Buddy fucked her brains out was totally crazy. I was of course a total wreck, consumed by the thought that this goddess I worshiped might actually fantasize about ME, but work was out of control. The deadline for a big project was pushed forward, and I started the week pulling three 16-hour days in a row. Thursday I dragged myself up the stoop at 11PM, dead to the world. My brain refused to work. So when Buddy pounded on my door I almost didn't answer. But even in my stupor I knew pissing Buddy off wasn't a healthy habit to start, so I opened up.

"Christ, you look like shit," he said. "You gotta quit that job and come work for me."

"Buddy, you wouldn't let me within 10 feet of an acetylene torch."

"True. You're too soft and pretty. You'd get hurt, bad too."

"Thanks. And you're here...why again?"

"Do you have plans for tomorrow night?"

"I hope not. My project should be done before tomorrow night. And I sure as hell don't want to go out with anyone I work with. Sick of all of them right now."

...

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