The Drip, a novel by Michael Gullo
“Hey, Amz.”
“So how’d it go? Did it work?”
“Oh it killed! I’m all like, stomp the brakes in the middle of the road, and he’s shitting a meat-axe.”
“What?”
“Asshole over there, I got this remote control, and the be-nice-to-me-button. I can smell the circuits burning, and best he can do is, I forgot. Got these flowers out of the deal.”
“You’re the pussy. Did you think I wouldn’t check in with Stef before I sold a mortgage - in a contract? It’s a contract, smarty pants. It was a good idea, I’ll give you that; phone hasn’t stopped ringing, but no way I write up owner finance, and I don’t talk to Stef first.”
“Oh, shit!”
“Oh shit, indeed. And good luck finding your tool bag, Toolbag.”
“Good job, Amz. These are for you. Jackass thought I wanted flowers for the table. He’s sorry he called you a pussy.”
“Ouch.”
“They’re here. Act normal.”
“What are they saying?”
“I don’t know, Stef; that dining room doesn’t have sound. Amz has them going toward the front though. She’s showing them where the door goes for the Master on the Main.”
“Only you. Seriously. Only you list a house has a whole construction site and takes the trim off the kitchen windows in the middle of a showing to make it look in-progress.”
“Stef, I bought ninety-eight windows. How else do I bring it up natural? They’re in the deal.”
“What’s that got to do with trim?”
“Okay, listen up. I explained it when you two were busy gloating.”
“I thought you were having a vandalism fit, tearing off the window trim just because you got licked by a couple of girls.”
“There was that too, but this was legit placebo running the nuthouse. I take off the trim. I mention the windows. I show that I’m on it like a man with a plan. Install the windows, price goes up. FOMO, baby.”
“Here they come.”
“Okay, walk out. Be nice.”
“Hey, guys.”
“This place is awesome, man.”
“Thanks, it’s a labor of love.”
“I loved the H man, but was that a chalk outline?”
“She was practicing in case I don’t start and finish that bedroom this year.”
“Can I borrow your chalk? This guy has a dozen started jobs at our house too. I’m Anna, Amy said you bought a place in Seymour. That’s where you’re from, right Stefanie? It’s Stefanie, right?”
“Yup, Stef’s fine. Now all we gotta do is finish this place, and I get to live in a whole new construction site.”
“That’s the whole idea. We listed in Winter with the low ball price while I work, thinking we’d test the market for Spring season. The damn phone hasn’t stopped ringing though. Every day Amy is calling for a showing, and I gotta put away all my tools and hide the materials.”
“Are you doing it yourself?”
“No, I got a five-man crew, and we’re knocking off the list by the day.”
“Anna, you gotta see this she-shed he built for Stef. I need one of these.”
“I’m going in the house, Michael. It’s been a long day, and I need to sweep up the sheetrock dust they left all over the kitchen. Saturday. They’re working on Saturdays!”
“Don’t sweat it, babe. I’ll get it. That’s a lot of windows, and we only have three weeks to get ready. And we start the bedroom this week. You guys enjoy the dock, but check out that workshop on your way down. It’s my wildest dream.”
“I can’t wait to see that.”
(The Swiffers were court costs).