Logan's
Project
By Chris Owen
From Bend Over Big
Boy
The warehouse didn't look any different from
the outside, but it wasn't really supposed to. All the work
being done was internal, the rustic look of the warehouse being
a prime draw in eventually attracting tenants. Logan's goal
was to fill the newly refitted space with an interesting mix
of people not unlike himself. He was hoping to turn the neighborhood
into a trendy spot for the up and coming to live by reclaiming
and refurbishing the buildings. With luck, the area would get
an injection of desirable people, and the hookers and drug dealers
would move a few more blocks west.
Mostly, though, Logan was hoping he'd actually turn a profit.
That was part of the reason why he was at the building after
hours, keeping an eye on the renovations, making sure the work
was getting done on time and mostly within budget.
That, and to keep an eye on the demolition man.
Though he was no contractor--he had people for that--he could
see things were going on schedule. He knew that the upper floor
was almost ready for roughing in. But because the lower floor
still needed some demolition done, things were mostly on pause
until that was complete and the dust could be kept to a minimum.
Logan liked his building. He got hard just walking in and seeing
the interior change. It was his dream and it was coming true.
He didn't care that it was happening through someone else's
sweat and labor; he was doing his part. He'd never really been
one for physical work, but he could plan, he could pay bills
and he could claim it as his own. Hell, his name was going to
be on the sign and that made it his.
The sign wasn't up yet, and the parking lot was almost empty,
the deep shadows of the city block weighing down where the street
lamps didn't reach. He'd have to get after the city council
for better lighting before he started renting space. Logan picked
his way to the big doors, pleased to see that whoever was still
working had obeyed orders to keep the site locked up and the
drive clear for emergency vehicles.
Logan let himself into the warehouse and closed the heavy door
behind him, then listened for the scattering of rats. He didn't
hear it this time and he smiled. Maybe they'd finally gotten
that under control. He sure as hell hoped so.
"Toby?" Logan called, walking down a makeshift corridor
toward the back of the first level. He could hear heavy, rhythmic
thumping from down there and could see the flood lights shining,
a halo of dust making the whole back end look like a shining
cloud. The entire interior was still one massive loft space,
support beams all over the place and open duct work to the upper
floor. He could see enough not to trip, but not who was working.
"Toby?" he called for the contractor again, louder.
The thumping stopped and Logan could hear dirt and cinder dust
settling on the floor, chunks of the wall clattering down. "Mr.
Logan?" a voice called back. "Don't come down here
without a mask, sir."
"Right." Logan veered, heading to the left and toward
the table where he knew the masks were kept. It wasn't his contractor
down there, it was the demolition man. Or, as Logan had taken
to thinking about him, Mr. Big.
Very big. All over and just as tight and toned as any wet dream.
Mr. Big had been a marine if his tattoos were telling the truth,
and he had the biggest arms Logan had ever seen. He was all
brawn, all sweaty and dirty and utterly, perfectly glorious.
He was also polite and cool and wouldn't give Logan the time
of day unless he was answering a direct question and couldn't
escape before Logan had asked it. |
