Damned!

Problems With The Contract

The noisy blast of car horns was the most irritating thing about work in the city, thought Federico. He had gotten into a habit of pumping up the volume in his sleek German convertible car but that did not rid him of the dramatic faces and purposeful gestures that came within the chaos of traffic. An older man was yelling out his window with an exasperated face, obviously protesting a car that had cut into his line of slow-moving traffic. Federico rolled down his window in case he needed to help remedy the situation or maybe even escape.

"Que esta haciendo? Pundajos!" the man continued yelling out the window of his yellow cab.

From the refurbished Mazda, the driver held out his finger attached to a muscular arm, tattooed with the symbol of gang affiliation. He gave the cab driver a dark side eye. From the passenger seat, came a voice of laughter, and a younger man with floppy black hair leaned out the window to shout verbal abuses back.

"Viejo, tienes cojones! La ultima tiempo tu esta muerte, hijo de puta!"

Federico sighed and was glad that this time had climaxed only to bemusement, at least for the spectators. Watching traffic often reminded him of the days when he watched his hot-headed son try to navigate through an argument on the playground at school, he mused. He remembered with Ein the emotions were sure to spill everywhere, and like the cab driver, Ein had no concept of the strength of his adversaries. Even at the tender age of five, Ein would often sport bruises on his arms or legs.

It was not completely Ein's fault. Remembering his own childhood, he had not wanted to be an absent father. However, at the time he was just getting settled into a steady high income bracket, the result of too many overtime hours, holding multiple contracting jobs at once. When Ein's mother had succumbed to illness, after a trial period with an indifferent nanny, he had taken Ein back Medium Cruces to be raised by his own mom. This always weighed heavily on his mind and although he did not talk about this with Ein, he did keep up on his whereabouts.

The phone rang on his dashboard. He glanced at the number.

"Yes, Ein?"

"Dad, did you take the job?"

"What job?"

"Don't play coy with me, dad."

Federico knew Ein was asking about the new apartments to be built on the edge of the city. He was proud of the accomplishments his son had made, accomplishments that he credited to the brains of the grandmother who raised him which enabled him. Due to his own established career, it had been easy to establish job opportunities for Ein, and the boy did not fail, quickly working his way up to capitol status.

As for jobs through the capitol, though, this was where their paths departed. Federico was his own man and did not appreciate any heavy-handed approach to management that was required in the job. The Watershed project had been offered. It was well known that Federico could guarantee a job done on time or sooner. But he had earned enough money in this lifetime to pick and choose his jobs. Adding on to this was his learning of his son's dismissal. Federico declined. This was one he could afford to lose.

"If you mean the military housing, you will be disappointed to learn that I did not," he teased. "I knew you would object to this project, although I didn't think they would actually fire you over it. When I refused, Mayor Mignon did little to press me further. He does know our connection, and the fact that you left on bad terms made him realize not to press me."

"I was hoping my leaving didn't affect you, dad."

"As I said before, I like to be my own man. Taking a job directly from the capital to showcase Hoveting's quote unquote leadership? That's one stress ball I can avoid."

Ein sounded both relieved and troubled. After discussing the matter further, he relayed the effort underway to protest the project.

"There's going to be a lot of negative press coverage in the future about this. I actually just wanted to make sure that you would not be hurt by the animosity," Ein stated.

"Hmm., Ein, I can take care of myself, it's you I worry about. You are without a job, although your passions seem to keep you occupied. You know, I did gather some information through a meeting with the archbishop and mayor Mignon. One of the reasons I declined the job was that it was way underfunded and short on practical time. I have a suspicion the next hired contractor might have to take a few shortcuts to get the job done. I voiced my opinion but received no level of concern."

"That's not good, dad."

"Do you know the new chief engineer, and does she know how financially short this project is going to be? You may want to bring her up to date."

"Um and yes, thanks for the tip," he said with an evading answer. "I'm sure she's aware of the numbers. I just have to point her in the right direction. She's brilliant And very new. I'm connecting with her this weekend. In the meantime, I'm stuck playing investigative reporter trying to gather as much info as possible," Ein remarked glumly.

"Yes, well, anything that ignites passion and pays the dollars. Not to discourage you, but investigative reporting is the wrong field for the money right now."

Ein laughed.

"It's not about the dollars. You know that dad."

Federico sighed.

"It's never been about the dollars with you. But I get it. Even though I will never voluntarily go back to Medium Cruces until the old man claims my name, I do dream of the beauty and expanse of the jungle."

"And I understand your point of view, dad," Ein replied knowingly.