Page 6 of Forever Only Once
Chapter 2
Cross
I was not goingto hit my coworker in the face.
I was not going to strangle him.
No, I was going to breathe, get through my anger, and realize that without coffee—for either of us—the guy was just an asshole. And I needed to get over it.
“All I’m saying, Cross, is if you worked a little faster, we’d get through our schedule the way we planned to all along. I mean, I know you’re all into your art and shit, but we could be making some good money here.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Chris, we went into this business together. We know what we’re doing. However, you telling me to put away what I’ve been doing for what…ten years now? More? No, that’s not how this works.” I paused. “That’s not how it’s ever worked, and I’m not quite sure why you’re acting like that’s suddenly changed.”
“Again, all I’m saying is if you put aside that one project for just a little while and work on these sets that could be for a larger commission, we’d make some quick money.”
“Quick money isn’t the way things work, Chris. We both know that. Quick money isn’t a thing. It’s a scam. If I set aside the commission that I have, then I’ll be disappointing my clients, and I’ll be the asshole. My current project is for a big client, and they help with word of mouth. They always have.”
“It’s a minor client, and we both know it.” Chris folded his arms over his chest.
I closed my eyes again, trying to breathe through my nose. I had a temper, we both knew it. Hell, my family made fun of me for it. But I was also the steady one. I blew quickly, but then the anger went away, and I was there, solid as an oak, the one that stood against time—and all that other shit my little sister said.
“Chris, if you want to do those commissions, do them. That’s your side of the business anyway. Me? I’m not going to set aside someone that we’ve been working with for years, just to work with a new person who says they’re going to pay double. Especially when it’s not in writing.”
“You never did have ambition,” Chris grumbled and then stomped out of my workroom.
I leaned back in my seat, pissed off that I had let it come to this once again. The two of us had worked together for fourteen years or so. We’d met in college, with me getting a business degree while working with wood and art on the side. I’d wanted to take additional art classes, as well as design classes, but I had known, even then, that I wanted to own my own business. I just needed to figure out how the hell to do it. So, I’d gone with a business degree while immersing myself in art on the side because I’d wanted to be my own boss, not work for someone else. The only problem was that I’d become best friends with Chris. The now egotistical asshole who was trying to give me a fucking migraine.
Chris wasn’t the same guy he’d been over a decade ago when we decided to open up Chris Cross Furniture.
It had been a cute name back in the day, my younger sister Arden having helped us figure it out.
However, the Chris of Chris Cross was an asshole. He hadn’t always been that way, but over time, he had wanted more money for less work.
I understood that, at least a bit. Of course, it would be nice if I could make millions or whatever Chris wanted and not have to work every day, but that wasn’t how the world worked—and Chris Cross did good business.
We actually did excellent business, considering how the economy went up and down like a yo-yo these days. We made good money because we took care of our work and our clients. At least, we used to. Chris hadn’t been doing as much recently, and because we worked on our own commissions, that meant Chris wasn’t making as much money as he used to.
I was just grateful that when we’d drawn up our contracts, it stated we would only pay ourselves based on what we worked on, rather than paying the business and then splitting it 50/50. That had been Chris’s idea back in the day because he had been making more money at the time. He’d been a rising star in sculpture, and I’d been learning alongside him.
I hadn’t minded the way the contracts turned out, because I wanted to be paid for the work I did, rather than taking part of what Chris did and vice versa.
We’d gone into business together because it was cheaper to share a space and the overhead. Property costs back when we first started had been high. Now, they were outrageous. But thanks to savings and my plans, I could afford the place on my own if I needed to.
However, the plan we’d made wasn’t working the way it should these days. In fact, if anything, it only got on my nerves.
The idea that we were furniture makers in this day and age wasn’t exactly the easiest for some people to understand. But I spent weeks to months on a project, hand-carving tables and art and chairs, anything I could create with my hands. At the moment, I was working on a table worth five thousand dollars. That’s what we had quoted, anyway. Sometimes this client liked to pay more, though, especially if I added in more details.
I wasn’t banking on that though because I wasn’t about to take advantage of people like Chris wanted me to. I cursed under my breath and then shook my head before moving from my seat so I could take a break. I couldn’t focus on what I needed to do if I was complaining about Chris in my mind for hours.
Chris was off in his little workshop, music blaring. I hoped he was working. He had a commission coming up, and not the one that everybody wanted that he was begging me to work on.
Considering that my name was on the door, as well, it would be unfortunate if Chris started to flake. I honestly didn’t know if I could trust him.
That meant I needed to start thinking about what we were going to do about the fucking business.
I let out a sigh and then went behind the building so I could walk off my anger. I didn’t smoke, hadn’t since I’d bummed one when I was a teen and had promptly thrown up afterwards. But right now, I wanted a cigarette. Needed to do something with my hands so I didn’t punch the wall or some shit. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I smiled as I looked down at the name on the readout.
Yep.