by Vivian Ward
“Tell me both of my options,” I say, taking the clipboard from his hands.
“Doing things the right way is going to cost you about six grand.”
I frown at the thought of spending six grand to repair the gas leak. “What’s the quick fix?” I ask.
“Light a match.”
“Shit. That bad, huh?”
“I’m afraid so. As bad as it is, I’m surprised this place hasn’t already blown.”
“So what do I do now?”
“Nothing. I’ve got the gas turned off until you get it fixed.”
“Shut off?” I ask. “You can’t just shut me off! How am I supposed to have hot water or heat?”
“Listen, lady, it’s not my problem. Get it fixed and we’ll turn it back on. Okay?”
I purse my lips at him. “Any suggestions on who I should call?”
He digs in the breast pocket of his shirt and pulls out a stack of business cards. Sorting through them, he hands me one. “These guys ought to be able to handle it, but they’re always booked, so I don’t know how fast they’ll be able to get you in.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Yep, have a good one.” He grabs his bag and makes his way out the door, letting it slam shut as he leaves.
One of the ceiling tiles springs open, causing some of the insulation to come tumbling down. “Just great,” I mutter. Cleaning up the mess, a man wearing white overalls walks in.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Are you,” he looks at his paperwork, “Toni Summers?”
“I am,” I shake his hand.
“I’m Matt. You called about an estimate on getting the walls repaired?”
Looking around the place, I note all of the peeling and dilapidated drywall that’s seemingly coming apart. I can’t afford anymore repairs, but I have to get this place up to code and looking better. “Yeah,” I say, frowning again. “Can you make it quick? I have to get to an appointment.”
I’m scheduled to meet the bank manager in under an hour and I don’t want to be late. Hopefully, I can make a good enough impression that he’ll approve me for a big enough loan that I can get this place up and running before I’m completely broke.
Cleaning up the mess from the ceiling, I impatiently wait as Matt walks around checking the walls and taking notes on his findings. I glance at my watch, and see that I only have 20 minutes to get to the bank.
“Are you almost finished?” I ask, emptying a dustpan full of insulation into the trash.
“From what I can tell, these walls have to be completely gutted. Not only is the drywall bad, but the wooden beams need to be replaced.”
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Looks like this place once had termites, and nobody ever repaired the walls. Once an infestation gets this bad and you add the age of the building, it’s only a matter of time before you have to tear it all down to rebuild it.”
“Jesus,” I shiver as the temperature in the building drops a few more degrees since the gas man shut off the heat. “What’s that going to cost?”
“I’d say about three thousand dollars.”
“That’s it? Only three grand to redo the walls?” I’m a bit surprised that it’s cheaper to gut the walls than it is to repair the gas line.
“No,” he laughs, shaking his head. “For one wall. We’ll have to redo all of the walls in here, plus the three in the back.”
I quickly start doing the math, and my jaw drops. “That’s $21,000! Why is it so much?”
He rips off a sheet of paper from his notepad. “The materials will cost you about $16,000, and then about $5,000 for labor.” He hands me the paper so I can see the breakdown of the estimate. “But we can just focus on the walls in here to get you started, since this is the bones of the laundromat. That’ll only cost about $15,000.”
All of these numbers are making my head spin, and I can’t deal with it right now. “I’ll give you a call. Right now, I’ve got to get down to the bank to see about taking out a loan to cover some of the cost of this.”
“No problem. You can just give me a call when you’re ready, and we’ll get you put on the schedule.”
“Thanks,” I say, walking him to the door, locking up as we make our way out onto the sidewalk. “I’ll let you know.”
On my way to the bank, I run the numbers in my head again just to make sure I’m not crazy. All in all, it sounds like I’ll need close to $30,000 to get the gas leak repaired and get the walls redone.
Making my way into the bank, I do my best to straighten my hair from the wind and have a seat across from the bank manager’s desk as I wait for him to finish up with his current client.
“Ms. Summers?” he calls my name.
“Yes, right here,” I get out of my seat and make my way to his desk. “Thank you so much for seeing me today.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he shakes my hand. “How’s the new business going?”
Taking a seat, I cross my legs and clear my throat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m going to need another loan—a smaller one to cover some repairs before I can get it up and running.”
The deep lines in his forehead crinkle as he pulls my files up on the computer. He takes his sweet time looking at the numbers and re-runs my credit. “How much are we talking?” he asks.
“I’d like to take out another thirty-thousand,” I say as he narrows his eyes at me and pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “But I’ve paid off some other debts, which has, hopefully, improved my credit score and decreased my income-to-debt ratio.”
Smoothing his silver hair, he leans back in his chair and places his finger on his lip as he continues to stare at the computer screen. “Your income to debt ratio?” He laughs. “I’m sorry, Toni, but you don’t have any income at this point.”
“But what about my savings, or my waitressing job? Surely, that has to count for something, and as soon as I have the laundromat up and running, my income will be better. I just have to get over this hurdle to get the repairs made.”
He studies my face for a moment. “Toni, I’m going to ask you a serious question, and I need a serious answer.” I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. “Didn’t you get the building inspected before you purchased it?”
I didn’t and I know I should have, but the price was so cheap that I bought it without knowing what I was getting in to. “No,” I say, my voice cracking. “I didn’t.”
“Is there any way you can do some of the work yourself to save on some of the cost?” he asks. “Because with what I’m looking at right now, the most I can lend you is about $10,000, and even that’s pushing it.”
“I’ll take it, and see what I can do with it. I might be able to get some help with things,” I lie. The best I might be able to do is ask a couple of my friends is they’d be willing to pitch in. It shouldn’t be too hard to gut the place; rebuilding it is a whole different story.
Maybe I could get my ex, David, to help me. I hate to ask him for anything, but he used to work for the gas company and knows a thing or two about fixing that type of stuff. He might charge me, but I bet it wouldn’t be anything close to six thousand.
“Are you sure?” he says, crossing his arms as he leans across his desk. His breath smells like a toilet. “Because there’s not much sense in taking out a loan if it’s not going to be enough. It’ll only throw you further into debt, and you’ll start accruing interest on, yet, another loan.”
“It’ll be fine,” I say. “Trust me. I can rip the place apart myself and use the money to purchase the materials and have some friends help me.”
Or watch YouTube to see how to hang drywall, whatever. I’m not going to tell him that, though, because he’ll think I’m crazy for trying to do it myself.
“If you say so,” he says, printing out some documents. “I’ll just need to get your John Hancock on these papers and then I’ll deposit the money into your checking around. It’ll be a three-year loan, payments are due on the
first of every month,” he slides the papers across the desk for me to sign. “The interest rate will be 5.5%, and the first payment will be due in approximately 40 days from today.”
Staring at the documents, I begin to wonder if I’m making the right choice, but honestly, what other choice do I really have? I’ve already purchased the laundromat, I can’t let it just sit there.
Smiling, I make eye contact with him. “That’ll be just fine.”
I’m completely screwed if I can’t pull all this off, but I know I’ll kick myself in the ass if I don’t at least give it a shot.
Chapter Seven
Lucas
Sitting around the house is killing me. I’ve only worked three out of the last five business days, and adding a weekend into the mix didn’t help. I’m going insane with boredom.
A man can only take so much political news and True Crime re-runs. I’m fairly certain that I’ve seen all of the crime shows that have been produced to date. Even though I keep watching them, I still have to wonder how these people think they can get away with kidnapping and murder. It’s only common sense that you’re going to get caught one way or another with how advanced science and technology are in today’s world.
The only way you could get away with it thirty or more years ago was if you could outsmart the police, but even then, a lot of guys still got caught. It’s nothing I’d ever have to worry about because I’m not crazy, but the shows keep me a bit entertained.
Lately, all I’ve thought about is Toni. I can’t get her out of my mind. There’s this little piece of me that won’t shut up that keeps wondering if she’s been thinking about me too. In a way, I hope that she has been but at the same time, I don’t. I don’t ever want her to be as miserable and lonely as me. I keep replaying our meeting over and over in my head, thinking about how she looked, how she spoke, and every word that she said.
It’s like a TV show stuck on repeat. You just keep watching the same thing over and over again, but you can’t change the channel because you wonder if you might’ve missed anything. I wish I could’ve read more into her words, but she had on her poker face. It was impossible to know what she was thinking at all.
Staring out the window, I watch the cold November rain fall. It’s been a while since it’s gotten this cold this early in November, but we’re due for it. The last two winters have been pretty mild, which worked out in my favor since I had plenty of work lined up then. Now I just sit in my house, cruising the services section on Craigslist while I look for odd jobs to do.
There hasn’t been much online lately, so I decide to call Mason to see if he needs any help with flipping any houses. He’s done quite well for himself since he quit working construction with me. I see his signs in plenty of yards all across the St. Louis area, and his houses seem to sell fast. It doesn’t surprise me; he’s always done a great job at fixing things up.
Grabbing my phone, I scroll through my contacts until I find his name and hit send.
“What’s up, Lucas?” Mason answers the phone.
“Not much. Are you busy?”
“That depends on why you’re asking,” he says, grunting as he slams down something heavy.
“I don’t have any work at the moment and I’m going stir crazy. Could you use a hand?”
He laughs as he tries to catch his breath. “Yeah, I could definitely use some help today. I’ll text you the address.”
As soon as we hang up, my phone pings with an address that’s not more than ten minutes from the house. Sliding on my work clothes, I grab my boots and coat before I hit the door. Pulling up in front of the house, all I see is his work truck parked on the street. I study the house and can’t believe that he’s working this job alone. The house is at least 80 years old, and it’s in complete shambles.
Walking up the porch steps, the second stair from the top feels like it’s about to cave any second. From the front stoop, I can see Mason up on a ladder, scraping the ceiling.
“Oh, you’re just in time,” he says as I walk into the house. “I was just about to remove this light fixture. Come give me a hand.”
The house is freezing, but he has a small space heater hooked up in the living room which warms all of the ten feet surrounding it.
“Why are you working solo today?” I ask as I take the light cover from him and set it on the floor.
“My helper called in sick. Him and his wife just had a baby, so I think he’s playing hooky. How come you’re not working today?”
Walking over by the space heater, I try to warm up. “No work,” I answer.
“Yeah? I’ve driven past your place almost every day for the last couple of weeks while I’ve been working on this house, and your truck is outside most of the time. Has it been slow?”
I hate to tell him about my DUI’s and my AA meetings, but I decide to because it’s better than looking like a loser who can’t get jobs.
“I’ve had to cut back on work. I got into some trouble and my license is suspended right now,” I say.
“Do you know how much trouble you could get into if you got caught driving?” he stops what he’s doing to look at me.
“Yeah, thanks, Alicia. She tells me that all the time,” I shake my head. “But I’ve got to eat, so I’ve got to work, you know?”
“Why’d they suspend your license?” he climbs down off the ladder.
“DUI’s, but I can get it back in a few months. The judge is making me take AA meetings and as long as the guy running them signs my paperwork every week, they’ll reinstate it.”
Scratching the back of his neck, he shakes his head at me. “AA meetings, huh? I bet you’re loving those.”
“The meetings aren’t so bad,” I lie. “It’s seeing Toni at them that makes them so damn hard.”
He shoots his glance toward me, “Toni? Your Toni?”
I nod and curl my lips. “Yep, the one and only.”
“Wow, I would’ve never guessed her to be at one of those things. Have you talked to her?”
I laugh as I pull off my coat and grab the other ladder to help him finish scraping the ceiling. “No, I stayed far away from her, or maybe she stayed away from me. She practically darted out of the damn place as soon as the meeting was over while I was getting my paper signed.”
He wipes the sweat from his brow. “Would you have talked to her if she would’ve waited around?”
“Probably not, but Alicia was with me anyway. It would’ve been pretty awkward.”
“I think you should talk to her, Lucas. You two have a lot of unfinished business.”
He’s right, but I hate to admit it. She was the best thing I ever had and I lost her. She meant everything to me, and, for some reason, she still does even though we live in two completely different worlds.
“I don’t know about all that,” I say, climbing down from the ladder.
“Why? Because of Alicia?” he stops what he’s doing and stares a hole right through me. “If you ask me, you and her don’t have anything in common and aren’t going anywhere. I’m not sure why you’re with her anyway.”
“I’m not ‘with’ her,” I throw up finger quotes for emphasis. “She just kind of hangs around. Besides, if it weren’t for her helping me, I probably would’ve dug an even deeper hole and lost my construction business for good. At least right now it’s just a temporary set back.”
Climbing off the ladder, he joins me near the heater to warm up for a few minutes. “Lucas, I’m your best friend and I know you better than anyone else. You should talk to Toni.”
The ceiling is completely free of paint and ready to be worked on. “What are we doing next?” I ask, changing the subject.
A chuckle escapes from his throat. “I’ve got about 40 sheets of drywall that need to be carried in.” He pauses, “Since you’re trying to change the topic of conversation.”
Pulling my gloves out of my pocket, I slide them onto my hands as I ignore his snide remark. “Come on, let’s go get those sheets off the truck before
we freeze to death.”
We work long and hard until the sky changes to a glowing darkness illuminated by the moon and we’re both starved.
“Thanks for helping me out today,” he reaches into his back pocket. “How does a hundred bucks sound?”
“No,” I push his hand away. “I’m not taking your money. You’ve got a family to support and I needed something to do today before I drove myself crazy.”
“Oh yeah?” A wide smile creeps across his face. “I’ll keep you in mind next time I need some help. I love free labor.”
“Thanks, asshole,” I punch him in the arm. “Seriously, man, if you need help don’t hesitate to call me. Chances are that I’m not working at the moment—at least for the next few months.”
“Will do,” he says. “Have a good one, and take my advice.”
I don’t say a word as I hop down the porch steps two at a time, but there’s no way I can take his advice. What am I supposed to do? I can’t just approach her out of nowhere with nothing to talk about. If she doesn’t already think I’m a loser, she will at that point.
As I’m getting into my truck to drive back home, my text alert goes off with a message from Alicia. “Where are you? I’m at your place, but you’re not here. I’ve got dinner for us.”
The thought of dinner makes my mouth water as my stomach grumbles. As much as she smothers me, I’m grateful for her thoughtfulness. Mason is right, though. The two of us aren’t going anywhere and never will.
Alicia is too independent and has a strong will. We’re too much alike in that aspect, and I want a girl who needs me and depends on me. Alicia’s not that girl.
Chapter Eight
Toni
I don’t know why I’m so nervous about calling David to ask for his help fixing the gas line, but my stomach is in knots. We haven’t spoken since he was arrested for shoving me onto the sidewalk in front of the bar. I wish he would’ve just been one of the random guys that I hooked up with instead of one that I tried having a relationship with because it was the worst.
