Job 3—Construction Chaos
The cash from the hotel gig didn’t last. A week of groceries, a bus pass, a few textbooks, and it was gone. Back to scraping, back to staring at job boards with a hollow pit in my stomach.
Most listings needed “experience” or “references,” things I didn’t have. My search dragged on until I landed on one that didn’t ask questions:
Construction help wanted. One day only. Cash paid same day.
By morning, I was on a bus out to the edge of the city, standing in front of a site that looked like hell had been dug up and left to dry. Steel beams glared in the sun, the ground was dust and gravel, and men in neon vests shouted over each other.
I tugged my shirt lower, already sweating. My arms weren’t built for hauling bricks, but my wallet didn’t care about pride.
“Hey
