About a week since that night, I got orders from my boss to head to a new site where we were going to begin construction. I had been thinking about that guy almost every night, staring at the number that was attached to the contact "Guy from Frat Party." It wasn't that I didn't want to text him, I did, I just didn't know what to say. While I knew I was gay and just liked men in general, I had never been with one, let alone flirted or anything of the sort. I always just busied myself with work, just like I was doing now.
Work was going pretty well, too. The jobs we usually did never lasted long because of the number of workers and the amount we got paid for each job. It was good money, livable money, and I always enjoyed the labor, but I wasn't sure how long I wanted to stay with it. I had been with the company for about three years now and have slowly moved up the ranks since then. I was a supervisor now, something I was never expecting considering I never went to college for this stuff like my higher-ups.
I had gotten the job as soon as I graduated because I told Dad I didn't want to take on the farm just yet. He permitted me a job around manual labor so long as I was in the house, but I realized I could get my own place with the money I was making and I liked the job enough to keep working. So, here I was, driving to a meeting with the owner of the company.
This was new for me. Normally, I wouldn't be meeting this man, but I guess he liked my work as an employee and supervisor. That's what my manager told me, anyway. I had never met the owner before, but I always heard good things about him. I guess he was a family man and a good guy. Although, when it came to his company, he was all business and would do what he needed to succeed. Needless to say, I was nervous. I was pretty sure, too, that the meeting would be at his house. Pulling up to what looked like a three-story home confirmed that theory.
I would never understand the rich. My dad had a strong distaste for them, believing they were good for nothing, but I just didn't understand why they put money over everything. Wasn't there more to life than that? Regardless, when I knocked on the door I was met by a butler of some kind who led me into the house. As we walked, I took in everything, gawking at the large paintings, the hanging lights, even the marble floor. This guy lived in a museum, no way he was just a construction company owner.
"Oh, good, you're here and on time. That's a good first impression." I heard from in front of me. We were stopped in the middle of the hallway, but there was the owner. He was a tall guy, bulky like a construction worker, but he wore clothes that made him look so casual: jeans, a button-up tucked-in, and boots. "Thank you, Marcus, for bringing him here," the butler-guy was nodded off, and then it was just the two of us.
"Hello, sir. I'm Keith. Keith Gooden," I greeted, holding out my hand for him to shake. The handshake was firm and confirming as my dad taught me to do, and he smiled at me.
"Dean Oswald. Come, we'll go to my office." We walked to a room right down the hall. His office seemed more like him than the entire house did. There was hardly anything modern in here. He had a wooden desk, a metal filing cabinet, some antique chairs, it was all so comfortable and laid back.
"Take a seat, get comfortable. This room is not as flashy as the house. My wife has expensive taste, like most businesswomen."
"No worries there," I chuckled. I sat on the edge of the chair, back straight, and waited for direction. Why did he even call me here? From what I understood, no one really came to his house, so why was I here? "So-"
"Do you like this job, Keith?" He interrupted me.
"I'm sorry?" I questioned.
"I mean, do you see yourself at this company for many more years to come?" I furrowed my eyebrows and thought about it for a second. I didn't like looking too far ahead in the future because things always changed. I had to be ready for a lot of things, especially with my parents' age and them on the farm alone.
"Honestly, I am not sure. I do really like this company, and I never expected to be a supervisor, especially so quickly," He leaned back in his chair.
"Yes, I saw that my managers took a lot of interest in you to make you a supervisor. What were you doing before this?"
"Actually, Mr. Oswald, this is my first job. My parents own a farm, though, so I've been doing manual labor since I could walk," He laughed at me.
"I wish I could say the same for my son. He was born into a life of privilege. He is a very smart young man, about your age, but he doesn't know manual labor so well," I chuckled. That was okay, I wouldn't know it if my parents could just pay for a building to be made or the lawn to be mowed. "Keith, I brought you here today because we have a big project after we finish this small one we are doing now,"
"Okay," I trailed.
"I want you to try your hand at managing that next project. I see you going far with me and I want to make sure my intuition is right,"
"Oh, well-"
"I will be watching your work until the end of the project, so be yourself, but know you cannot afford many mistakes." Mr. Oswald stood up and came around the desk to greet me, I stood up, too. "I see something huge in you, something I haven't seen since I looked in the mirror at 22 years old. Impress me,"
"I-Thank you, Mr. Oswald. I won't let you down," I was in shock.
"I know you won't. My son, Leo, will guide you out. He's waiting outside the door, okay?" I nodded. "Good luck, Keith,"
I walked to the door in complete shock. Half of me was expecting to get fired today, not get told I was under consideration for a future at the company. My heart pounded and my skin was flushed. I felt so… excited? Nervous? I couldn't tell. I opened the door with a sigh, pulled it back, and held my breath.
"Hey, it's you!" he yelled out. In front of me was the angel from the last party, same tanned skin, same shiny, fluffy hair, and same smile that made my heart stop.