Shelly's Arc

Chapter 4 of 12

By the fifth morning, Shelly could see the problem in the shape of her own crew. The permit was taped to the booth. The steel was on the lot. But only four men were swinging hammers, and the schedule on the trailer wall wanted eight. George climbed down from the scaffold and wiped his forehead. "Boss, I can weld faster, but I can't clone myself. We're two weeks short at this pace." Two weeks short meant opening after Malcolm's next council move. Two weeks short meant losing the park. She called Ziggy that night. He came before sunrise, hat pulled low, work gloves in his back pocket. He walked the site once without speaking, tapped a beam, tested a bolt. Then he sat on an overturned bucket and looked at her. "You need hands, sister. Real ones. And you know one man who can pull a whole crew from the beach in a day." Shelly shook her head before he finished. Ziggy waited. "Duke," he said. "Call Duke." Shelly walked to the far end of the lot and stood with her phone in her hand for a long time. Duke had left three years ago with a sand board strapped to his truck and a note that said less than it should have. She dialed. He picked up on the fourth ring. She told him the deadline, the crew size, the ride, and the man trying to squeeze her out. She did not ask nicely. She said please once, at the end, and then she waited. "Sister of Ziggy," Duke said, slow and warm. "You call for muscle, ya? I bring boys from the dune camp. Strong backs, no complaints. We work for food, cold drinks, and a ride on your slide when she opens." Shelly closed her eyes. "Deal." He laughed. "Also, one dinner. You and me. Talking, only talking." She almost said no. She said yes. By noon, Duke pulled up in a dented van with nine sand-surfers piled in the back, boards lashed to the roof, arms already brown from the sun. They unloaded like a wave hitting shore. George met them at the gate with a clipboard and a grin, handing out tasks before they finished shaking hands. By sundown the second spire had its ribs. By the end of the week the water tower stood, painted bright against the desert. Ziggy watered a row of seedlings near the fence and watched his sister argue torque numbers with a man she used to love. Shelly had her crew. She had her timeline back. She also had a dinner she did not know how to sit through, and a favor to Duke that would come due the way Amina's favor would come due. The build would open. What she owed after was a different ledger.