Every Day is Exactly the Same »

"Tommy! Hurry it up already! What, you gonna take all damn day? Bring me the goddamn hammer!" Dave balanced precariously, wiped a line of sweat from his brow. He held a long wooden beam in place, just as precariously. The old beam had warped; years of wind and water had turned it into a useless piece of wood. It had been a load-bearing beam, and if Dave hadn't gotten his ass out to the docks to fix the damn thing now, it'd probably have collapsed in only a few days' time.

Or so he insisted anyway.

Not a minute later, a blond head poked up from below, a hammer clenched in the hand that followed it immediately. "Next time, why don't you take the freakin' hammer up with you if you're planning to, you know, nail a board in?"

Dave gave him a look. "Shut up."

"Just sayin'." Tommy's head disappeared below, and the sound of hammering filled the pier. In between the resounding sounds, the radio [a shitty little piece of tin that picked up the town radio station, and that was all], played whatever music the DJ had happened to reach for first. Tommy's voice drifted up from below. "So, what's the deal now with you and the redhead? What was her name again?"

"Lara!" Dave's reply was a bit loud, his voice punctuated by the sound of nails driving through wood. "Took her out to dinner again last night."

"What's that, like your fourth date now? That's practically marriage for you, ain't it?"

"Shut up." Pause. "Yeah pretty much. I dunno, there's something about her. She's different, you know? Ain't like the rest of the girls here." Dave's hammer stopped whacking the beam. "Though that's probably because she ain't from this town. She brings in that big-city air with her. I dunno why she came here from there, but--"

Tommy's head popped back up. "But you're damn glad she did, aincha?" The grin on his face was almost palpable. "Man, you got it bad."

Dave couldn't argue. Instead, he just reached for another nail, a dull grey thing long enough to pierce both the beam he was hammering and the one behind it. "It's weird. She's not anything I'd have expected, you know? First time I saw her, it was all red hair, that expensive-looking suit, them long as hell manicured nails, except the one that had broken-"

Tommy whistled. "Yeah, I thought for sure she was gonna claw someone's face off with those things. Yours, specifically."

Dave laughed. "Okay so yeah we didn't get along at all at first, all right? She thought I was some backwards hick, and I though she was a stuck-up city bitch. I don't know why I even asked her out that first time, or why she said yes--"

"Two words, buddy. Sexual tension. You two were radiating it." Tommy climbed up and squatted next to Dave. "Notice I said 'were.' I'm guessing there's a reason that's past tense."

Dave shook his head. "I ain't kissing and telling, Tommy. Not this time. But yeah I was wrong about her. She's... just amazing."

Another slow whistle. "All right. Man, wouldn't have expected this from you honestly. Oh hey, I love this song!" Tommy practically dove back under the pier, coming back up with the radio. Industrial rock poured out, a rarity on these airwaves. The drumbeats punctuated the hammer as Dave finished repairing the beam. By the time the song was done, so was the repair. "So. Lunch?"

"Yeah," Tommy agreed readily. "Hey, does Lara got a sister?"

"You wish, Tommy."