The Drip, a novel by Michael Gullo
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Breaking News.”
“Have you got the headline version?”
“The well guys are all in cahoots. They literally have so much work that you might call Atlas, and Samson shows up.”
“You talk like a wire tap – I understand what you’re saying, but we would sound just like a coded wiretap transcript if anyone chose to listen in.”
“Samson and The great well job.”
“You got any other chyrons?”
“What’s chyron?”
“Chyron. The little text box at the bottom of the screen tells you whether that member of the production team had too much coffee this morning.”
“I mean, we haven’t even covered the well story yet. We still need to get the victim interview in here and last-minute authority on the subject logged in from his living room with the opinion that we’re trying to manipulate, and then we need an actual reporter to do a standup with weasel words appearing to confirm the opinion.”
“Well, Michael. We’re talking about the well. I’m standing in a restaurant reading a lawyer’s brief in support of an emergency order to show cause request, undue punishment and all the high falooting language required to turn my simple evidence gathering warrant execution into a swarm of snake-shaped bees.”
“Wait. I wasn’t paying enough attention. How did you close the place for a simple warrant search? You can’t close a business down for two days just for a warrant search.”
“I can’t talk to you about this.”
“But. You can’t punish…”
“Michael.”
“Okay, you’re right. Sorry. So, there’s a cabal of well guys with so much work that they feel the need to run triage on the phone calls. On top of that this particular one is a general contractor in his own right.”
“Like he builds houses?”
“Yup.”
“Did you show him a house-plan?”
“Better. I gave him one of the copies.”
“So he’s gonna bid the job?”
“I guess. I hate to be so negative, but there wasn’t one straight answer. I’d ask directly, if I level the ground, can you put the well in, and the answer is like, when you get it level next week, give me a call. And I tell him I can have it ready in a couple hours, and he changes the subject to fish in the pond.”
“That’s not good. What did he say about you digging the hole?”
“I didn’t even think of that. In fact, we walked right by it, and we talked about it – but that was before I knew he has a contractor’s license. He never mentioned not letting us dig the hole, but if you think about it, he knows we’re digging the hole, and he took a copy of the plans.”
“Sounds legit.”
“You gotta call HousePlans and get a few more copies on the way. I only have two handouts left.”
“I’ll do it when I get out of here.”
“We’re not having any luck with these builders, though. So what you really need to do is call Maddron.”
“We have training tonight at the PD. I’ll ask him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, if I leave it to you, we’ll be homeless forever.”
“I’m handcuffed.”
“Speaking of handcuffs. I got Peter’s bill last night, and you better find twenty-thousand dollars.”
“LMA.”
“You told me he was thirteen.”
“Over runs, plus we didn’t know about the hotel.”
“Where did you put him up?”
“Honey, he came all the way from Clarksville, and I wasn’t going to put him up at a no-tell dump.”
“Where’d he stay?”
“Pigeon Forge Marriott.”
“Jesus, Michael. You lived in a shed, and he had room service.”
“He didn’t use room service, Stefanie.”
“Six-thousand in over-runs.”
“Seven.”
“His hotel line is sixty-one-hundred.”
“He was here over thirty days.”
“Michael, you gotta stop. Why were the guys seven-thousand this week?”
“They hired a couple of day laborers.”
“Why?”
“It was a rocking busy week. Mulching and fixing the road by the pond, cutting trees and moving them to open the new driveway path, finishing the shed roof waterproof; that was leaking. We waterproofed the seams, and we got some slabs under it for leveling. We went to Karen’s to fell a pine tree, and we hauled her brush back to the Drip, and load and unload furniture, moving rock from the driveway to the pad, organizing the trailer and prepping the shed move.”
“What shed move?”
“We need to move the shed to finish the house seat footprint.”
“And the $1472 at Green Acres Rock?”
“Flat pavers. After we move the shed, I want to lift it up a little so rodents don’t move in underneath.”
“I’m having a hard time being my best self with you right now. You – have – got – to – slow – down.”
“I wish I could.”
“How are you going to move the shed --- that you live in --- and where are you moving it to?”
“I got a company called Mountain Barn Builders coming over, and they’re going to put it on a mule and move it about fifty feet up the hill so I don’t have to move it again until I move.”
“The guy’s bringing donkeys to move a shed?”
“No, it’s a machine called a Mule. It has like pallet forks kind of on the front. He puts wheels under one end, and he lifts the other end with the machine, and he rolls it where it’s supposed to go.”
“Can it like hurt the shed?”
“It could. Gotta do it though. We’re moving everything out to the yard before he comes to reduce the weight.”
“Listen, I’m sitting here, and there are two people lined up to ask questions. I have to go. Stop spending money.”
“I’ll stop, but is Karen ready for you to live there forever?”
“I gotta go.”
“Love.”
“Love.”