The Drip, a novel by Michael Gullo
“So, um, it’s a mile of extra Romex and scraps of insulation to finish the shed at the small gaps?”
“Well, yeah. Romex is easy to store.”
“So you claim, good planning?”
“That’s it. Planned to the scrap. We’ll buy the ceiling batts today.”
“Cody said Meghan’s brother wants hours.”
“Yeah? We could use a fourth guy. Did the deposit post today?”
“It posted yesterday right after you transferred it.”
“I like this system. If you get me the invoice on Monday again next week, I’ll pay the bill same day, and we’ll have a routine. I never imagined it would work this good when I set up my own account there.”
“Isn’t that why you did it?”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t imagine transferring from my own bank so fast to Truist and then to your payroll account all in the same hour.”
“It’s a digital world. I started showing Cody the invoice system. He’s not interested.”
“Give him a day or two. He’s not a paperwork guy.”
“He’s taking notes on the phone. Actually texting them. Day notes. Look, Cody, dugg hill. 8. Rusty Dugg hill. 8rh. Tanner, kiss ass, 8.”
“He’s funny at least. I didn’t think about that though. We need a computer and a printer for you guys to hand over to each other. Add that to the ceiling insulation shopping list.”
“Added.”
“And funny is good, but these are corporate documents. I’ll text the supply list, and you can go get the stuff. The computer’s your first company asset. Buy it with cash from the armrest of my truck. There’s five hundred bucks there. Buy an affordable laptop and a portable printer. Keep the receipt. Robby’s pulling in now, so we’ll get back to this later.”
“Mornin’, Michael.”
“Heya, Robbie. Do you always smell like that?”
“Do I stink?”
“No man, you come walking in with that smile calls all the woodland critters down to hear you speak, smell like you stepped out of the fresh laundry basket, and a guy’s gonna notice.”
“All this cigarette smoke, I’m surprised you smell anything at all.”
“It’s medicine.”
“I just got my guys started, and they’re in tight with your guys. Cody barried us yer rotary laser. Boys left our’n at the jobsite.”
“You can scratch a cut line with a rock, but you can’t layout an inspected sewer with a plumb bob.”
“That’s a full trailer down there. Ain’tchoo scared somebody’s gonna come up at night and steal it?”
“Not scared, but some things force the gamble.”
“Why not put you a Ring camera like these others?”
“I got a whole box of them, see? I just wish each need came with its own hour in the box.”
“Every day of your life got exactly twenty-four hours in it, ’cept two; the day yer born and the day you die.”
“Marshall told me you’re a preacher.”
“This a nice shed – insulation in a tool shed.”
“Coming soon, porch lights and a lawn chair.”
“You moving in here?”
“Actually, we sold the house up by Marshall’s, and I’ll stay here a while until we get that workshop built. I’ll throw up some temp walls in the workshop when I get in there. I’ll build a bathroom, and I’m high cotton hid. Until then it’s a bowl in the mud, hung from your tank and field.”
“Huh?”
“I ain’t no preacher. The minute your sewer is in, I’m installing that toilet out there.”
“In the yard? It’ll freeze.”
“We don’t have a well yet. It’s flush by the pond bucket.”
“Are you funnin’ me?”
“No, man. I have three weeks and four days to get this shed livable, and that’s the toilet. Five hundred and ninety two hours to go.”
“Well, I guess that cactus ain’t froze yet, I suppose you can survive too.”
“Got that yesterday.”
“Maybe get a thermometer today.”
“I’ll text Tanner. He’s at Home Depot now.”
“Where’d you get these boys?”
“I was spreading gravel in the skid steer, day five, alone, cold, plotting, scheming, fog so thick I needed the windshield wiper…”
“All the best stuff come in a machine.”
“Amen. I’m working. The little steps make the goals, and the list ran longer than the task, and if I just had someone clearing that brush out of the way while I graveled toward it, I could go without the stop.”
“Machine’s like that.”
“I light a cigarette, and Stefanie’s Facebook habit comes to mind, and I’m scratching my screen with an ad to send her. She’s the shill for that. We met every grade of asshole down in Hardin Valley with me the lead. This time Stef’s the frontman.”
“You do ooze Yankee.”
“Good Yankee, she says.”
“Yankee.”
“So I send her the ad text, and three hours later, wiper’s off, sun’s up. I actually have the air conditioner on in December. It’s like he popped right out from behind that old Oak tree.”
“This place does feel special like that.”
“And now, here I am trying to figure out a plank or a board make a desktop across the lap bar to run hours and payroll tax and W2s and Workman’s Comp, and the idea hit me epiphany across the face. Send him down to the county. Get a remodeler’s license, twenty-five thousand limit, corporate charter, bank account, my lawyer Deno can set it all up for him, and let him keep his own hours, clear the brush out of the way. I teach him the basics, and I’m free to gravel the next spit of driveway.”
“Why not just start your own company?”
“Same desk problem. I got a lot of piles and not enough space. I have properties to run, a house to sell, a house to build, financial work…”
“Cigarettes to smoke. Overalls won’t smell laundry fresh if I sit in here all day.”
“Good idea. Make sure my shit rolls downhill.”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How’s it going up there?”
“So glad you asked.”
“That bad?”
“Not at all. I’m almost vibrating it’s so good. Cody’s got the wall benches in, top to bottom – all four benches.”
“Good start.”
“He hit some shale tops, and a couple very small outcrops at the bottom shelf, and he hit blue rock in the back. There’s springs seeping everywhere. We’ll need to rent a rock hammer, knock in a trench in the back of the shop to shed water, but not before we dig three feet deep across the whole pad, bring it down to the bridge top.”
“I don’t understand a word of that.”
“It means, this place just keeps giving. First day new land, and I’m sitting on a log at the pond took me forty five minutes to walk up to it was so thick. I went and bought two machines to fight my way in. I had an extra hour, and I found a stone mason to help with the bridge only my mind could see. Five days later, I’m sitting in that skid steer, and Tanner materializes. That weekend I felt guilty for time on my hands, and a trailer full of wood shows up. Cody comes. The shed builds. Then solar. And now it’s a life’s-good t-shirt for a face shows up out of the one good bit of luck we had in Hardin Valley twenty-four hours after I rubbed the lamp, and within a day the guy’s got a sewer dug and a thousand gallon tank already in the ground. Make the connections, and we have a throne in our kingdom.”
“Kingdom, ha?”
“Contextualizing.”
“So, good day.”
“Forty-two and a half, maybe.”
“Beats forty-three. Of course, you’ll be in prison.”
“What the hell?”
“Bank statement shows one five-hundred-dollar withdrawal after the other. You’re a rolling SARS report.”
“That’s why I did this whole license, corporation, company thing with them.”
“Appearance is reality.”
“And reality is, nothing is what it appears.”
“So, where do you want all this lumber?”
“Honey, Tanner’s back. I’ll tell you about the laptop we just bought later.”
“Laptop? Nevermind. You bought him a laptop. Probably with cash, right?”
“Man, you’re way more fun on work days.”
“Go build my damned house.”
“Love.”
“Love.”
“So cute.”
“Shutup, Tanner.”
“Don’t listen to her buddy. She’s just sour, can’t catch me up in her little filing cabinets.”
“Where’s this stuff going, dude?”
“Oh, do the assignments not come fast enough for you? Well, here you go. Put the R19 here in the shed. Get all the framing wood and the plywood down at the trailer – that’s for shelves in the trailer so my rotary laser and other frageelez don’t get destroyed by you apes throwing it all about…”
“That’s not me…”
“All for one, one for all.”
“Easy, d’Ar-tag-yer-it…”
“Yer all it, Tanner. That’s not my rule. It’s the reality of partnership.”
“So they run their joysticks, and I unload forty-eight cinder blocks, thirty two-by-sixes, ten pieces of plywood, and all the rest - and what’s the thermometer about? It’s cold. Nuff said.”
“Put those in the skid bucket. Rusty will bring them up there and those two can use the bottle jacks to lift each corner of the shed and place the block underneath – while you’re rubbing your wire through the rafters to get me a ceiling fan. The thermometer goes inside the door. Screw it in. When you’re finished, get the fan brace up, run the wire, and insulate the ceiling. Should be fun with the floor tilting around for the block men. I’m outa here. I gotta go to Cherokee Group and see if they will build me a house.”