Hers By Request

by Karen Ann Dell

  As the run-down motel settled ever more deeply into obscurity, its owner sought other ways to turn a profit. George Pennypacker, seventy-eight years old, arthritic, and well acquainted with the joint-easing properties of bourbon, converted the units into “studio” apartments by simply adding a small refrigerator and hot plate to the existing amenities. These he now rented on a month-to-month basis. The income thus produced went directly into George’s stomach, courtesy of Jim Beam, which left him little time for, and no interest in, the maintenance the aging building required. George solved that problem by letting Jeff use three units at one end of the L in return for his services as caretaker and handyman. Like they say on Wall Street, it was a win-win situation.

  A few minutes later, Jeff came out of the end unit and climbed into the passenger seat.

  “‘Sup, Dude?” he asked, pulling an Orioles baseball cap down over his unruly hair.

  “Don’t call me dude.” Dev scowled as he threw the Land Rover into reverse and backed away from the building. Gravel spewed from under the tires as he hit the gas and pulled out onto the highway.

  “Wow. What bit you in the ass today? Last time I saw you, you seemed pretty happy,” Jeff commented.

  “Not what. Who.”

  “Oh. Say no more. I get the picture.”

  “I doubt that, it’s pretty complicated. And I don’t want to talk about it,” Dev groused, cutting off Jeff’s reply.

  Jeff gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not that complicated, Dude. You’ve got it bad for Amanda and she’s not ready for the kind of hot monkey sex you have in mind.” Jeff shrugged as though any idiot could see what the problem was.

  “It’s not that at all,” Dev ground out. We already had the hot monkey sex. Then I effed it up. “And I don’t want to talk about it,” he repeated. He tried to relax the death grip he had on the steering wheel, which only made him more aware of the glove he wore on his left hand. He flexed his fingers. Thought about taking it off. Goddamn it. “And don’t call me dude.”

  “Well, it beats calling you Prick, which is what you’re acting like.” Jeff settled back and put one foot up on the dash. He ignored the scowl from Dev and started humming Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust”.

  Dev drove in silence for a few minutes. He finally shook his head in disgust. “Sorry, Jeff. You’re right. On both counts.”

  Jeff slapped him on the shoulder. “Believe me, I feel for you, D. Women are the worst kind of trouble. I’ve been there myself.” He tilted his head and quirked his mouth.

  “Jesus, she’s going to put me in an early grave.” Which I deserve. “But that’s not your problem. I’ll figure it out somehow.”

  “Hey, great, D. When you do, you’ll tell me how, too, right?”

  “Don’t push it, J,” Dev warned, accenting the initial.

  “Okay.” Jeff held up his hands in surrender. “So. You going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “To the Home Depot in Easton. I want you to help me pick up new heaters for Amanda’s place. And some caulk. And maybe one of those tank-less water heaters.” Dev stopped at the only stop sign between Blue Point Cove and Cambridge and glanced over at Jeff. “I’m willing to pay you to help me install them, and I need your advice on what kind to buy.”

  The silence lasted long enough to get Dev’s attention.

  “In the interest of not getting slugged by you, I will confine my response to one word. Sure.”

  Dev caught the smirk on Jeff’s face out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t going to argue with success. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Wait till you hear what I’m going to charge you.” Jeff chuckled.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll still owe you.”

  It was past six o’clock by the time they were back at Jeff’s, the back of the Land Rover crammed full of heaters, caulk, electrical tape, battery-operated drills, screw drivers, putty knives, and anything else Jeff thought might come in handy.

  “I need to stash all this stuff here until I drop Amanda off at the gallery Friday morning. I don’t want her to see it and start asking questions. She’s going to be over there interviewing candidates for the party jobs all day. That should give us plenty of time to get this all installed, don’t you think?”

  Jeff squinted as he did some mental calculations. “Yeah, I think with the two of us working on it we can have everything done in a day. Part of that depends on whether there’s an empty slot in the breaker box at Amanda’s place for the new baseboard heaters and part depends on how much help you can give me, D.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can handle my share. You just make sure you sack out early enough the night before to be ready to go by nine. I don’t think I’ll get over to her place in the next two days to check out that breaker panel, so we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

  “We can always come back in a day or two and put a new panel in, if we need to,” Jeff said.

  “Don’t count on it. I figure I’ll only get one shot at this. Once she sees what we’ve done, I expect I’ll be persona non grata at her place.”

  “You really haven’t talked to her about any of this?”

  “I told her I’d caulk the windows. That’ll get me in the front door. I haven’t mentioned the rest.” Dev opened the back of the truck and picked up the carton holding the new tank-less water heater.

  “Why not, D? The lady should be falling all over you with gratitude.” Jeff hefted one of the heaters and a coil of 14-gauge copper wire over his shoulder. “I figured that was your grand plan. You get her nice and toasty warm, she’ll be much more . . . pliable.”

  He unlocked the door to his studio and flipped on the light. Except for the bathroom, the unit had been gutted. Several tables held half-finished sculptures and there was a potters’ wheel in one corner. A large piece of black soapstone was covered with a sheet, obscuring whatever it was that Jeff was carving out of it. Paintings covered the paneled walls and a work-in-progress sat on an easel in the corner.

  Dev whistled. “You paint and sculpt? You’re a regular Michelangelo, Jeff.” He went over to study the closest one. How come these aren’t for sale in Zoe’s gallery?”

  “Some of them are. It’s kind of complicated.” Jeff brushed off Dev’s interest. “Let’s concentrate on fixing up Amanda’s place.” He indicated an empty spot along the front wall under the window. “Stack the stuff over there.”

  “As independent and stubborn as that woman is, she’ll be pissed as hell that I did this without asking her first. I know she doesn’t have the money to do it and she’d rather freeze that cute little butt of hers off than ask for help.”

  They went back to the truck for the remainder of their equipment. Dev had no trouble handling the largest heater while Jeff grabbed the tools.

  “So that’s why you want her out of the way while we do this. You’re taking a big risk, Du—D. Women are damned unpredictable about stuff like this. You think they should be all happy and then they turn around and kick your butt out the door.”

  “Yeah. I expect the butt-kicking,” Dev acknowledged. “But I figure it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. That way, even if she never speaks to me again, I’ll feel better knowing that little place is a lot more comfortable.” He surveyed everything he’d bought with satisfaction. “Come on. Let me buy you some dinner down at the diner.”

  “No, thanks, D. You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But let me do it anyway. I have to put something in my stomach before I go to work and I hate to eat alone.”

  “Okay, if you insist. Far be it from me to turn down a free meal. I’ll ride over on my bike, though. That way you don’t have to bring me back.”

  “Suit yourself, but I don’t mind bringing you back here.”

  “Nah, I’ll take the bike.
Who knows? I may not want to come straight home,” Jeff added with a sly wink.

  Dev nodded. He envied the other man his prospects for the rest of the night. He’d be training his newest employee, Lance Fisher, while visions of a certain blond, gray-eyed beauty paraded through his head, keeping him aching and annoyed until dawn.

  Dev got to the station at eight p.m. and found Lance Fisher in the control room with Ed Santone, who was going over the equipment with the new announcer. Lance was dressed neatly in khaki slacks and a polo shirt. He listened intently to Ed and jotted a few things down in a notepad. Dev didn’t see any visible signs of injury but caught the slight limp as the man moved around the room.

  He waved to Andy as he passed the broadcast booth and got a big grin in return, something so unusual he would have gone in to make sure the kid wasn’t high if he didn’t have the new guy on his mind. In the past week it seemed most of his employees were acting a bit strange and it was starting to worry him.

  “Ed, thanks for staying late this week,” he said when he entered the control room.

  “No problem, Boss. Glad I could help.”

  “You do more than help, Ed. You damn near run the place. I’ve got to find another engineer so we can give you some of that comp time you’ve accrued.” He turned to the new man. “Lance. How are you making out? Starting to get the hang of things?”

  “Sir. Yes, Sir. Mr. Santone has been very patient with me.”

  Consciously or not, the ex-sergeant stood at ease as he answered Dev. They’d have to work on changing habits the Army had ingrained in Lance Fisher, but Dev was sure his disparate crew was up to the task.

  “No need to call me sir, Lance. Dev is fine. We run a pretty relaxed show around here, as I’m sure you’ll find out quickly enough once we get you on a regular shift. Chris Majewski tells me you’d prefer to work nights, is that right?”

  Lance looked quickly at Ed then at the floor. Ed picked up on his discomfort, and immediately said, “I’m done here for tonight, Dev, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be heading home.”

  Dev nodded. “Thanks again, Ed. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” He motioned to Lance. “Let’s go to my office and we’ll get the rest of the paperwork out of the way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Want some coffee?” Dev nodded to the break room as they passed it.

  “No sir, I’m good, sir.” Lance winced at the second sir. “Sorry, S— Dev. Hard to break the habit.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Lance. You’re a few years older and several ranks higher than I was, so just try to envision me as a new recruit and we’ll get along fine.”

  “Don’t think I could do that, S— Dev. I gave new recruits a pretty hard time.”

  A brief flash of pain in the man’s hazel eyes stopped Dev from following that line of conversation. He recognized the signs.

  “Just so you’re aware, most of the guys here are trying to lose their military baggage, but that doesn’t mean there still isn’t plenty left. Since we all have our ‘problems’, you’ll find everyone is pretty tolerant of each other’s idiosyncrasies. If something bothers you, it’s best to point it out right away. Don’t let it eat at you, or eventually there’ll be an explosion that will be much harder to recover from. No one will take offense as long as you’re not a smart ass about it. If you have a problem you don’t want to talk about with the rest of the staff you can always come to me. If it’s something I can’t handle, I’ll kick it up the ladder to Chris. He stops by every couple of weeks to give me a hard time—and check on the guys he’s sent over here.”

  Dev pointed to a chair. “Have a seat, Lance. There are a few papers you have to fill out. This one is your W-4. If you’re not sure about deductions you can speak with our accountant, Ms. Adams. She can point you in the right direction on most matters that have to do with money. Did Mike find you a place to stay?”

  “Yes, at least temporarily. It’s in a . . . boarding house, I guess you’d call it. A private home that has another fellow and myself using a couple of spare bedrooms.” He hesitated. “I’ll try to find something else as soon as I get a few paychecks in the bank. I really need a place all to myself, sir, Dev.”

  Lance squared his shoulders, although his back was already so stiff it couldn’t get any straighter. Dev recognized the stance. Admitting weakness to a virtual stranger sucked, and he appreciated the direct gaze and non-apologetic delivery.

  “You asked me about working nights. I’m sure Captain Majewski told you I have flashbacks. They’re worse in the daytime, or when there’s a lot of noise. I, uh, can get kind of loud myself, you see, so it’s better if I live where I can’t disturb other folks.” The man looked miserable, but determined to make sure Dev knew the worst. “I do better when it’s quiet and dark—that’s why I want to work nights. I take some medication that helps but I can’t promise I won’t have one when I’m on duty. Will that be a problem, sir?”

  “We’ll talk to Chris together about what to do if you have a flashback when you’re on the air. I won’t bullshit you, Lance, that could be a real problem.”

  Dev sat back and considered possible alternatives. “You were going to take over half of my shift, from three a.m. to seven a.m. That would be a big relief to me, so I hoped it would work out for you, too. Now I’m not so sure that would be the best fit for you.”

  Lance didn’t try to hide his disappointment. “I understand, sir. I’ll call Captain Majewski in the morning and thank him for the opportunity. There was a night watchman opening at a warehouse in Salisbury that might still be available.”

  “Hold on, Lance. Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Dev studied the man’s paperwork for a few minutes. “It says here that you quit college at the end of your junior year to enlist in the military. Also says you were on the football team and had a chance at being recruited by some professional scouts if you’d stayed to play in your senior year. So I have two questions. Did you make it to college on a football scholarship and was that your plan for the future—playing professional ball?”

  “I did get a partial athletic scholarship. That was the only thing that made it possible for my folks to send me to college in the first place. My major was engineering, though. I got the football scholarship mostly because I was big and pretty fast on my feet, but believe me, sir, I was in no danger of being drafted by the NFL. I just wasn’t that good. I won’t say I didn’t fantasize about going to the pros and making the big bucks,” he said, remembering. “But in the cold, hard light of day I had a good GPA and knew if I kept at it I’d make a nice enough living as an EE.”

  “What made you quit, then?”

  “My dad was in construction. Hurt his back and couldn’t do it anymore.” Lance shrugged. “With two other kids in high school they needed financial help. The Army was the quickest way to a steady paycheck. I figured I could finish college while I was in and start my career a little later than I planned.” He rubbed his right leg and stretched it out in front of him. “Didn’t work out that way.”

  Oh, yeah. Dev could relate to that. He liked this guy. Life had given him some crappy choices and he’d made the best of them, then got the shit kicked out of him again in Iraq as a reward. He made a decision and kissed his dreams of a four-hour shift goodbye.

  “Being an on-air personality is not a good idea for you, Lance, at least not right now. But how would you feel about an engineering slot? The two men I have are each doing twelve-hour shifts and I’ve been searching for a third guy to share the load.”

  “I’d like that, sir, but don’t I need an EE degree to do that kind of job?”

  Dev caught the flare of hope in the man’s eyes. “Let’s have you talk to Mike Kovak in the morning and see how long it would take you to get a Class A Radio license. I’m pretty sure that’s all you’d need to get started. While you study to take the exam, you can work he
re as a trainee under Johnny Miller. He’s our seven p.m. to seven a.m. engineer. We’ll see how you do and if you have a flashback there will be someone close by to take over if that’s necessary. It may take a bit longer to solve your housing problem but we’ll find a more suitable place. Think you can hang in at that rooming house for a while?”

  “I’ll try my best, sir.”

  “Can’t ask for more than that.” Dev checked his watch and stood. “Let’s get back to the control room. I’ll introduce you to Johnny and you can get an idea of what the job is like before you commit to it. We’ll talk salary later, but I have to tell you that until you’re licensed I’ll have to cut your pay by twenty percent. Think it over while you’re here tonight and give me your decision in the morning.”