The Drip, a novel by Michael Gullo
“Cody?”
“Yeah.”
“Tanner here.”
“Why you call like you bill collectin’? You know it’s me, just like I know’d it’s you.”
“Yeah.”
“Well?”
“I was thinking. Um. So I’ve been working for a guy up the road from you. It’s a big job. Um. So we’re…”
“No fucking way! This the guy got the green electric Hummer? Don’t tell me it’s him.”
“Yeah, why?”
“My Pap’s been wide eye all month ’bout that guy. When can I start?”
“Don’t you want to know what the job is?”
“Nope. Pop’s been bendin porch boards all Winter since he first saw that thing roll up the valley. If I start working for the Hummer guy, it’ll walk his crazy ass right over the banister.”
“Yup, that’s why I called, give you a job and put spite in that stupid war you got with your dad.”
“…Bad enough he bought the fishin’ spot, bad enough he ain’t from ’roun here. Bad enough Deddy sure than shit they building all manner of airport up there…He been watchin the permit apps with the county. Went all the way down there…. If I go get a job with the guy, he’ll (lose his damn mind.).”
“Lonnie’s not a bad guy. Why you always after him like this?”
“He went all the way down the courthouse, he’s gotta know so bad.”
“Well, okay. So, um, you did good work with me at my Grandma’s, and you live right down the street, and he has lots of digging to do.”
“Digging? Oh, hell yah, I’m in!”
“Well, um. So he didn’t say you would be digging. He asked if I know someone…”
“And old Cody come to mind? I’m teched.”
“Teched, ha? How about, I didn’t wanna be cutting trees, bucking the limbs, slipping the chain underneath ’em and giving the thumbs up while he’s sitting in the heated cab smoking.”
“Juss like Deddy said, he lazy. Let me ask you, that guy got on slick bottom shoes?”
“What the hell you talking about slick bottom shoes?”
“Aw, nothin’ just funnin’, you the only guy he hired?”
“He’s there in the machine, but he’s got this thing with his lung.”
“He’s sick?”
“It’s weird. He talks about this thing on his lung could pop or something, but he smokes like he’s gotta get ’em in before the camel runs off with the pack.”
“Camel runs off with the pack? ’the hell are you talking about?”
“No clue. He talks weird too. Must be rubbing off.”
“So he got you on the hard work, chokin’ the chain, an’ he drag it off?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“An’ you think ol’ Cody wants’a be out there lifting a log while you work the chain so he can drive off ’n pile the logs to cut for house lumber?”
“We’re mulching them.”
“Mulchin’? Are you serious?”
“Yup, he’s got a brand new Fae forestry mulcher up there, and we’ve been mulchin’ the wood.”
“You ain’t let him just mulch all them Poplars and White Oaks and all of that good building and burning wood?”
“It’s not my wood. I do what I’m told.”
“Kiss ass.”
“Nope. Employee. He says pile the logs and stack the brush, I pile the logs the way he says, and I stack the brush in the same direction so he can run the mulcher over the piles.”
“I knew I heard a mulcher goin’ but these hills, they make it soun’ more like up Ellijoy way, not down here.”
“He pays good. He pays right. And he don’t play with the money. Bought breakfast or lunch or both at least four times this week.”
“But he’s just wasting the lumber?”
“So… he’s not using it if that’s what you mean.”
“Think he’ll let me at the firewood?”
“Don’t know.”
“An’ he got all that Poplar ’n Oak up there, perfect for house wood and trim, an’ he’s just mulching it?”
“He’s not cutting oak. Really, he’s super protective of the hardwoods and the big stuff. I can’t tell you how many turns and skinny spots in the road he’s put in just to keep a bigger tree or something special.”
“There’s a road?”
“Sorta. We been spreading gravel and stretching a line up the hill to where the dam’s washed out.”
“I knew’d it. I told Deddy just this October we better find a way get that spillway fixed, or we won’t have a fishin’ hole next Summer.”
“Yep, it’s right there where the spillway pops out the back side in the middle of the hill. I haven’t been fishing up here in a few years, but I could see spillway was running the back side out of that dam.”
“Thas what I tol’ Deddy. So you up there now?”
“Yup. Day’s about done, and I wanted to set up with you before I left for the weekend.”
“You fishin’?”
“It’s literally the middle of December, Cody.”
“Pond’s still got water in it though, right?”
“Pond’s still mostly full, but he’s looking to work in a whole new spillway down the side where it meets the hill rather than there in the middle so it don’t washout the middle again.”
“Thought you said he’s sick?”
“What?”
“You said he’s sick. Ain’t no sick man can work that kind of dirt job.”
“I don’t know, Cody. He asked if I know someone, and he’s still taking messages on Facebook on the ad his wife put up.”
“Got a title?”
“Naw, it’s up there though in Seymour Speaks Out.”
“It’s the 15th. I could stan’a get me some Christmas money.”
“Can you come Monday?”
“I can’t work the weekends though with Layla. Meghan waitin’ tables.”
“He hasn’t asked for weekends.”
“They all asks fer weekends.”
“This guy’s a little different.”
“On his bess behavior ’s all.”
“Um, I’m not sure.”
“So he has a brand new mulcher, or – like newer?”
“No, I mean brand new – skidsteer too, and an excavator.” “I knew about the skidsteer and the excavator. Deddy was there when they was delivered.”
“My bet, you know it all.”
“What’s that ’posed to mean?”
“I know you two holler rats been up there in the evenin’ when the machines stop.”
“Rats? Why we cain’t be coons er a rodent’s got some style?”
“Okay, rats is rough, but you two ain’t no coons.”
“Why not? We slank around pretty good, and we climbs trees, well Deddy don’t no more, and we blend in, don’t just walk through middle of the field like some damn fool four-hooter rat.”
“The hell is a four-hooter?”
“One of them big owls, Bard Owl.”
“You said rat.”
“Rat’s what the owl eats.”
“He’s got field cams up there.”
“Field cams. Did you look close at them cams? Somehow they batteries got in upside down.”
“Cody, I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble up there.”
“It’s not me, it’s Deddy. He wanted go fishin’ one last time, so he climb up there ’n he tell me he flip the batteries.”
“It’s December, Cody.”
“He ain’t right. I told you man’s mind is on fire ’bout this yankee.”
“Don’t come up here causing trouble, Cody. You ain’t smokin’ still are you?”
“Shit, no.”
“You best not be, his lady’s a cop. And this guy, he’s not --- normal.”
“What’s not normal?”
“He figures shit out, like complicated stuff. He sits and looks a while, pacing, smoking, sitting in the seat of that skidsteer with the heat on. He’s not just a step ahead, he’s off building the whole church from staring at a post card.”
“That’s how them rich folks do. Always pretending they got the secret season’s gonna make the bullshit go down easy.”
“It’s not that.”
“Always preten’ money’s the easy part and you broke workin’ fer them juss cuz nobody tell you the secret yet. An’ here you is listenin’, and they say it like it’s magic, spend less than you make.”
“Well, Cody, that part’s true.”
“How I’m gonna spend less ’n I make, money’s all spent ’fore even make it?”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“Me problem? It’s a ever’one problem. Nobody makin’ what they need ’a make to make it in this world.”
“Cody, I thought of you because you’re right up the street. You know how to run a machine. You worked pretty good at my grandma’s with me, and I know you need the money.”
“That part’s right.”
“This is good money. Like, real good.”
“What’s it pay?”
“He started me at eighteen, but put me up to nineteen second week. And this week, I’m driving all over the place t’ get a diesel tank and trailer for it and a pump, and driving all over the place...”
“In yer truck?”
“Yep, but he put me up to nineteen-fifty to cover the gas and wear and tear.”
“Hell, that truck’s worn and torn already.”
“You got that right.”
“Still, junk’s got use lef’ in it. Just gotta put the time in.”
“It’s not that bad. It’s not that junk next to your place.”
“Yeah, old man Teague, he like ’em ragged out. Somehow he get shit runnin’ though.”
“Yeah, just long enough to get someone to pay for it.”
“How ’bout that Hummer? He let you drive it yet?”
“Sure, he ain’t ’ttached to it. It’s full of worksite foot mud and Camel packs. Dude smokes a lot. He has me drive it up to Kodak Harley Davidson to charge and charge it up.”
“Wait, big deal lets you go sit in the parking lot all day charge that thing up?”
“That’s a myth.”
“What’s a myth?”
“Takes twenty minutes, an if he wants it topped off all the way, it’s like forty-five. It don’t take all day. That last twenty percent takes the longest.”
“So, Monday?”
“Yeah, Monday. And remember, you’re working for me. He’s the boss, but I sign the paychecks.”
“Paychecks? He ain’t payin’ cash?”
“No, it ain’t cash. He sent me up to the county to get a remodeling license, he sent me to his lawyer and set me up with a couple bank accounts at Truist, and the bank handles all the payroll taxes and withholding and…”
“Withholding? I don’t pay no taxes.”
“It’s no wonder you spent it before you got it.”
“I just don’t need no withholding, and that feeco or whatever it is, won’t gonna be no Social Security in forty years when I can get it out.”
“It’s a check or nothin’. You still want it?”
“I’ll take it. Monday. What time?”
“I start at eight. He beats me there every day. Got no clue how. He drives an hour from Hardin Valley every mornin’ and he’s there smoking and drinking on that coffee cup before me every time. I got there earlier and earlier every day, and there he is, waiting.”