“Mine was shitty and needed to be replaced,” Joy said.
“Mine just needed to be replaced.”
“I can see you doing that,” Joy said.
“There. We have something in common. Amazing,” Carol said, not facetiously, more like she was considering that they might be able to find a way to live together in semi-harmony. Maybe ground rules would be necessary and they could make this work. Somehow.
“Are you dating someone?” Joy asked. It seemed incredible that someone with her looks would be unattached, but here she was scrambling around to find a place to live.
“That’s personal,” Carol said.
“Look, we’re going to live together which means we need to be able to communicate and know at least a few things about the other. What if you’re a serial killer?” Joy said.
Carol laughed. She had a nice laugh. It transformed her from an icy beauty to a normal person with a sense of humor. “I could say the same thing about you.”
“Well, I’m not. Now see; sharing wasn’t that hard. We’ve established that neither one of us is a serial killer,” Joy said.
Frank brought in the table and the lamp, unpacking the box so Joy could be assured it was in one piece. It was. He handed her the clipboard and a pen never taking his eyes off Carol, who stared back at him hard. The woman, who’d laughed a moment before, was back to being an ice queen.
Joy signed quickly, pulled forty dollars from her jeans pocket and handed it to Frank. She wanted him out of there quick before Carol got out the meat cleaver and whacked his penis off.
“Thanks,” he said when she handed him the money. He took one last look at Carol and left.
The buzzer went off again. This time it was IKEA. Carol sighed. “Really?”
“I need a bedroom set, okay. I organized it so it could all be done today. I’ve got houses to sell and I have exactly one day to get this completed,” Joy said firmly. “So, cut me some slack.”
“Fine. I hope you’re good with tools,” Carol said.
“I’ve got it covered.”
Joy was not good with tools. She didn’t have any tools. Why would she have tools? If something needed to be repaired, she called a handy man. She didn’t want to ask Carol if she had any tools, that would look like poor planning. She would have to find a hardware store once she figured out what she needed. Surely, it came with a screwdriver thingy.
This time the delivery person was a baby dyke with the latest lesbian haircut, long on one side, shaved on the other. “Where do you want it?” she asked as she glanced over at Carol who smiled back.
It was okay for women to admire her but not men. Check. Joy logged that into her new memory file titled “Carol.” Joy had a good memory for small details about people. It helped in her job because people liked when you remembered the details they had revealed to you when you were selling them a house. Finding a home for people was an intimate act. To become familiar with your clients you had to get them to trust you. More wise words from her realtor mother.
“May I offer a suggestion?” Carol said.
Joy was wary but said, “Sure. I’m open to suggestions.” She noticed Carol checking out the biceps on the baby dyke as she held the box marked ‘nightstand.’
“Why don’t you assemble it out here then move the furniture? You’ll need the space to do it,” Carol said.
“She’s got a really good idea,” the baby dyke said. She beamed at Carol.
“All right. Just lean them up against the wall for now.” Unsure she should take Carol up on her offer of having unassembled furniture all over the living room. “You realize it’s going to be inconvenient,” Joy said.
“I thought I’d help you assemble it. I’m good with my hands,” Carol said.
“I bet you have very capable hands,” the baby dyke flirted back. Carol didn’t seem to mind. The baby dyke cocked her head and took in Carol head to foot with a confidence that Joy had never had in all her years of “chasing skirts”—her mother’s euphemism for lesbianism. Her mother wanted grandchildren and thought being gay meant she wouldn’t have any.
Just then a fairy entered the apartment. “Oh, you must be the new neighbors,” she said, delighted. “And there are three of you. How nice.”
“I’m the delivery person, although I wouldn’t mind being a roommate,” the baby dyke said.
“Flirting, how nice,” the fairy said delightedly again. Joy suspected a lot of things delighted the fairy.
“I’m Fern,” the fairy said.
Forest, fern, fairy, Joy thought. Was the entire building full of nutters? She and Carol might be the voices of reason in this place.
Fern wore a green tutu and a T-shirt with wings on the back. She had green high tops. She wore cat-eye glasses, and eyeliner that accentuated her large green eyes. She looked to be in her mid-fifties. Everything about her was fairy-like right down to the glitter in her hair, which was also green and cut in a pixie. Joy wondered if she left glitter everywhere she went.
She was carrying a heavy toolbox. “I’m a plumber so if you have any plumbing issues tell me and I’ll fix it right up. Orville is worthless. I came to look under your sink and do the meet and greet thing.”
The fairy turned from Tinkerbell into a tradeswoman with a serious air about the ways and means of plumbing.
“I best get going,” the baby dyke said. She pulled a card out of her chest pocket. “Here’s my card in case you need anything moved.” She handed Carol the card.
“How nice,” Fern said. “Perfect. You two should date. You’d make a cute couple.”
“Wouldn’t bother me,” the baby dyke said staring at Carol. “At all.” She gave the universal signal for call me. “Ciao.”
“I better look at your pipes. Orville is supposed to fix the apartment before people move in. The last tenants moved out because they couldn’t stand the lack of maintenance. They also bought a house so really and truly Orville may not have been the reason. I tried to get in here and help them, but they were very Christian. They were anti-Fairy.”
Joy figured it was more like they didn’t like lesbians, but who knew. The fairy get-up might put people off. If Fern could fix things, Joy was all for it.
“I’d really appreciate it if you would take a look at the plumbing. I’m hopeless in the fix-it trade.”
Then Joy got an idea. If she hired Fern to do any plumbing issues she had with the houses she was selling, it would be much easier than trying to get a hard-to-find plumber. Sometimes the houses she sold wouldn’t pass the house inspection. Then Joy arranged for tradespeople to fix things and charged it to the owner. It was an added but frustrating selling point for her service and helped her sell houses for lazy owners who were not inclined to fix anything because the housing market was so tight.
“Do you have a card?” Joy asked Fern. “I sell houses that sometimes have less than ideal plumbing. I’d be glad to hire you.”
Fern pulled a card from her bra, which also contained D-cup breasts. Joy and Carol watched the extraction of the card with interest. Joy had heard of prison purses but not booby business card carriers. Fairies, evidently, had their own ways.
“Let’s go take a peek,” Fern said. She marched to the kitchen her right arm bulging from carrying her toolbox.
Carol and Joy followed. Fern got on her knees and opened the kitchen cabinet and peered into the innards of the cabinet. She hemmed and hawed. “Just as I suspected. That peckerwood.” She pulled out a small old aluminum pan half full of water. “A slow leak. Good thing you all haven’t been using it.”
Joy leaned over to see a small drip coming from the bottom of the P-trap. Fern handed Joy the pan. “Empty this, will you?”
Joy went to pour it down the kitchen sink. “Not there,” Carol said crossly. “Put it down the bathroom sink providing it doesn’t also have a leaking pipe.”
Carol was right. The water would just leak right back into the cupboard. Joy had a feeling Carol was going to be right about a lot of th
ings. How annoying, she thought, but helpful all the same.
Joy did as instructed. She checked under the bathroom sink. No leak pan. She dumped the pan of water. None came out the bottom. Only one bad sink then. She was going to charge Orville for this. He wouldn’t pay right up, but they would take it off the rent. He would be red-faced and peeved, but it was his building and maintenance was his responsibility, and she planned to hold him to it.
“How’s the bathroom sink?” Carol asked.
“It’s fine,” Joy said.
“I’ve got appointments until five o’clock. I’ll stop by tonight. In the meanwhile, don’t use the sink a lot. And watch the pan,” Fern said, taking the pan from Joy and sticking under the broken pipe. “Off I go.” And she left like on a fairy—on tiptoes and fast.
Carol was staring under the sink. “That bastard, Orville.”
“Are you good with tools? I know nothing,” Joy said hopefully.
“Pretty good. My dad was a mechanic. I used to spend a lot of time in the garage with him.”
Joy was dumbfounded. Maybe there was more to Carol besides their horrid introduction to each other. First impressions were important. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Joy figured that Carol came from a well-to-do, snotty family, but why would she be working in a shop?
“Didn’t expect me to come from such humble beginnings,” Carol said and raised an eyebrow as if to put a period on her statement.
Joy stuttered, “I just thought you…look, we got off on the wrong track. Shall we start again?” Joy held out her hand. “My name is Joy. It’s nice to meet to you.”
“I guess we’d better. “I’m Carol.” They shook hands.
“I want to make this work,” Joy said. “And I think we can.”
“All right. And I insist on helping you assemble your furniture,” Carol said.
“I would appreciate that,” Joy said.
Maybe Carol wasn’t so bad after all.
Chapter Four
Joy stared at the instructions for the bed. It was complicated. Carol had left her with the tools, as she’d had to get to the Boutique, which opened at ten. “I’ll be home for lunch. Wait for me if you have a problem,” Carol had said. Evidently, location was yet another reason for Carol’s desire for this apartment.
Joy liked having a roommate, even if Carol was a bit difficult. She would not have to live alone again for a while. Living with Angela had reminded her that living with someone was nice. You had someone to talk to and tell them about your day.
She rolled her eyes at herself – like Carol would ever be that kind of a roommate. But if they were going to live together it would be better to be friends. She’d be super nice and accommodating and win Carol over. Goodness knows she did that with her real estate clients. She knew she could use her skills as a negotiator to make a friend of Carol.
She got busy putting her bed together after reading the instructions. She laid out the frame and the headboard and footboards and began to assemble it. She wanted to show Carol she wasn’t completely incompetent. The bed seemed easier than the dresser.
She was feeling confident until she put the wrong length screw into the bottom of the footboard and set the screw too far and it nippled out a spot. The footboard looked like it had a large boil. And being the end of the bed meant she couldn’t cover it up. She’d messed up her first piece of furniture. Damn it. She undid the offending screw and surveyed the damage. It was apparent. Very apparent.
Joy studied her options. They weren’t many. Find an oversized comforter that hung over the bed. Put a sticker on it. Cover it up with wood grained duct taped. She stared. She ruminated. She dreaded Carol coming home for lunch. She went to make herself a coffee.
Well shit. She didn’t usually swear unless the situation was extreme. This was extreme. She had ruined a three hundred dollar bed.
Joy was still despairing over her furniture faux pas when Carol got home. She was pleasantly surprised at Joy’s progress then noticed Joy’s glum face. “You’ve almost got it. All you have to do is put the footboard on.”
“I ruined it and it’s in a very noticeable spot.” Joy pointed to the protruding nipple on the board.
“Oh my,” Carol said. She sounded genuinely concerned. She studied it. “We’ll take it back and explain what happened.”
“They’ll think I’m stupid.”
“No, they’ll think I’m stupid, but I guarantee you we’ll get you a new footboard.”
“You’re going to pull the dumb blonde routine?”
“Works every time,” Carol said.
“Doesn’t it bother you making people think you’re a stereotype?”
“I get a lot of unwanted male attention; it’s payback,” Carol said.
“What if it’s a woman working the return desk?” Joy asked.
“Then I’ll do it and look sad and pleading. It might work. Better me than you,” Carol said.
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m used to being treated that way. In this case, I’m using it for your sake. This is messed up,” she said, pointing at the footboard. “And you know how I feel about furniture. I can’t have this imperfection in our space.”
“On this I agree with you.”
“I do have a favor to ask you,” Carol said.
“What is it?”
“You don’t put together anymore furniture until this evening. Now, let’s get going,” Carol said.
“You want to go now?”
“Yes,” Carol said, picking up one end of the footboard.
They maneuvered the footboard from the front door to the foyer. They had the stairway blocked when the woman with the monocle came down, once again dressed in a burgundy velvet smoking jacket. She did not introduce herself despite having seen Joy twice.
“I see today is not a good day to leave the house. An omen,” the woman said.
“An omen of what?” Joy asked.
“A blocked door means today it’s not safe to leave.” The woman turned and made her way up the stairs.
Joy called out. “I’m Joy and this is Carol. We’ve moved in downstairs.”
“I noticed. Perhaps we should acquaint ourselves. I’m Beryl Morgan.” She left without another word.
“Is everyone in this house a nut job?” Carol whispered.
As they went out the front door, Joy realized her Lexus sedan, a lease, couldn’t accommodate the footboard.
“I have an SUV. We’ll be fine,” Carol said, guiding them to her car.
They put the seats down and got the bed into the back of Carol’s Toyota. Carol was an enigma to Joy. Everything Joy thought she knew about this woman seemed to be constantly in error. She had figured Carol would drive a sports car. She needed to let Carol be Carol and not have so many preconceptions.
***
“You can see where the instructions might be a little over my head,” Carol said breathily as they stood at the return desk at IKEA. Joy had offered to buy her lunch at the IKEA café as payment. Here she was, already in Carol’s debt. She would try hard to be a good roommate; the kind you didn’t mind coming home to. Joy wondered if Carol was a homebody; surely someone who looked like her did not have a dull social life.
Joy had been spending time with Angela bemoaning the fact that they didn’t have girlfriends and wondering if they should go to Cancun in the winter. They’d been discussing it for two years and still they hadn’t done it. They should; life was short. Her next big sale she would treat them both to a week in Cancun. She hadn’t realized until that moment that she was slowly moving on from her nasty yesterdays and beginning to look forward to a brighter future, hopefully with a new friend.
“I can see where you might have some trouble. Hell, I have trouble with it myself sometimes. Let me see the damage,” the male returns desk associate said, never taking his eyes off Carol.
He tripped over a box and Joy broke his fall. His face reddened.
“Are you sure you’re all right? We wouldn’t
want you to get hurt,” Carol said sweetly. She wasn’t about to embarrass the guy. She needed to work him if they were getting out of here with a new footboard. Joy was impressed.
“Ah, that’s not so bad. We can take it back. Lots of stuff gets damaged in transit,” he winked at Carol who smiled at him coyly.
Damn, Joy thought, Carol was sexy when she wanted to be.
“I’ll change this out. Be right back. You ladies want a soda or a bottle of water?”
“No, we’re fine but thank you for your kind offer,” Carol said. “I’m on my lunch break.”
“I’ll hurry,” he said.
“Wow, you’re amazing. You didn’t even have to flaunt your cleavage,” Joy said.
“I don’t have a lot of cleavage. I tend to play that down.”
What? Carol was insecure about a part of her body? Would this woman stop amazing her anytime soon?
In two minutes, the young man returned with the new footboard. “I can take this out to the car for you. You ladies don’t need to strain yourselves.”
He picked up the cardboard box and swung it up on his shoulder seemingly with no effort. They followed him out.
“Do you always elicit this level of accommodation?” Joy whispered.
“Yes, stick with me and you’ll life will be a whole lot easier,” Carol whispered back. She linked her arm with Joy’s, “See, easy-peasy.”
They went to lunch after they’d put the footboard in the SUV. Carol profusely thanked the young man. He strode off proudly.
“You’re amazing,” Joy said. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s been awhile since I’ve been truly useful, so thank you for that.”
Joy couldn’t imagine how someone like Carol could be anything but useful. The woman was a mystery. They hadn’t been at their best when they were vying for the apartment, but Carol was growing more accommodating. And Carol was anything but boring.
Would an interesting woman with, at times, a bad attitude be better than a boring idiot who followed her around the apartment filling every atom in the room with the banalities of her day? That would be terrible. Joy should count herself lucky.
Everything but the Girl Page 3
