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Don't Fix It, Chapter 2a
🕑 Added 2021-05-03 15:54:27 +0000 UTCChapter 2
Allie and I were making small talk at the kitchen table when I abruptly stopped and cocked an ear. She heard it too, and her eyes widened.
“Is that…?”
“Yep.” The air conditioning had just kicked on.
She shot to her feet and extended a hand to the vent near the ceiling, although she sagged almost immediately.
“Still hot.”
“Give it a moment,” I said calmly. “The system needs to purge the hot air.”
She balled her fists and whined like a tween girl, “But I want it cold now!”
I chuckled. Then I rose and went to the back door. Sure enough, the repairman had been about to knock.
“C’mon in.” I stepped aside and closed it behind him.
“The compressor’s runnin’ again,” he told me. “Simple fix once I had the part.”
“Sorry, I’m just a friend. She’s the homeowner.”
“Oh, I thought—” He adjusted quickly. It was the 2000s, after all. “Sure. Sorry ’bout that. Anyway, as I was sayin’,” he continued to her, “it’s runnin’ fine. It should start feelin’ cooler here in a couple’a minutes. But you might wanna think about replacin’ the whole system.”
I started to ask why but caught myself just in time.
“Go ahead,” Allie said to me. “That’s why I wanted you here.”
“Right. Okay, so… why replace it? Age?”
The man nodded. “It’s thirteen, maybe fourteen years old.”
“Ah.” I turned to Allie. “And the house was built in… what, ’89? ’90?”
“Yeah, ’89. So, fourteen years. How long do they usually last?”
“Ten to fifteen.”
The HVAC man added his sales pitch, “Now’s a good time to upgrade to one that doesn’t use R-22.”
Allie paused to see if I agreed before she asked, “What’s that?”
“It’s a refrigerant,” I said, “the stuff that— Sorry, you know what refrigerant is.” I sighed and wondered who was the bigger sexist, me or the repairman.
“Like Freon?”
“Exactly.”
“And this R-22 stuff is a problem?”
“For the ozone layer, yeah. It’s a CFC, a chlorofluorocarbon, part of the Montreal Pro—” I’d slipped into mentor mode again, or, as Christy charitably put it, Mr. Know-it-all. “Never mind,” I said instead, “it doesn’t matter. They’re phasing it out.”
The repairman nodded, although he was clearly skeptical. I knew plenty of contractors like him, ones who thought the EPA was just big government, meant to make their lives difficult. As far as they were concerned, climate change was entirely natural, the environment could take care of itself, and everything else was just liberal whining. Then again, maybe they were partial to smog, benzene, and strip mines. Different strokes, right?
I sighed and repeated one of Christy’s mantras, God, grant me the serenity…
“How much does a new unit cost?” Allie was saying.
I spoke up, “Depends on what you want.”
“About four grand,” the repairman said at the same time.
“Yeah, what he said,” I agreed, “about four grand.”
Allie’s eyes bulged with sticker shock.
“The current one might last a few more years—”
The expert shook his head. “One, maybe two.” He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment. “It… uh… ain’t been maintained.”
Allie’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?”
“The condensation line was clogged and the drip pan was full. Been like that a while, so the evaporator coils’ve rusted. They’re already startin’ to leak. It’s slow for now, but it’ll get worse.”
“That fuckhead,” she snarled. “That miserable, lying fuckhead.”
The repairman blanched, and I explained under my breath, “Her ex.” He recovered slightly but still looked shocked. Allie wasn’t a meek suburban housewife, and she had a lot of pent-up frustration.
“He had one job. One. Fucking. Job! To take care of the house. Aargh! Stupid. Fucking. Fuckhead!” She wasn’t as colorful as Wren, but she could still cuss with the best of them. Then she skewered the repairman with a look. “The line was clogged and the thingamajig, the drip pan! It was full?”
He nodded warily. “I’m surprised you ain’t had water on the floor.”
“We have,” she said through clenched teeth, “but the fuckhead blamed the girls. He said they were splashing water from the sink.” The furnace and air handler were in a closet in the garage, next to the utility sink. “There was a puddle last week,” she went on, “but I thought the sink had leaked into the closet, not the other way around. I was going to call a plumber.”
The HVAC man shook his head, and she huffed in annoyance.
“Well, duh! I know that… now.” She changed again, from hot to cold. “How soon can you install a new one?”
The poor guy blinked in surprise, and I decided to throw him a lifeline.
“He’ll have to write up an estimate first,” I told her.
He shook his head. “You’ll have to talk to my boss, the owner.”
Allie’s Caribbean eyes threatened storms.
“That’s pretty standard,” I said.
“I’ll give him the details,” the repairman promised, “and he’ll give you a call.”
“In the meantime,” I said, “let’s check the air again. It should be getting cold.”
✧ ✧ ✧
“What was that about?” I asked after the repairman had gone.
“What was what?” Allie snapped.
“The thing with the estimate and the owner.”
“Why d’you care? It isn’t your problem.”
“Whoa, sorry. I was just curious.” I held up my hands in surrender. She didn’t bite my head off, so I lowered them and wondered aloud, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she sighed after a moment, “it isn’t you. Well, not specifically. It’s your gender.”
“Ah.”
“And I guess I’m still mad at Ken.” She huffed in exasperation, like a truck venting its air brakes. “No, I’m definitely still mad at him. That fucking fuckhead!”
I gave her a moment and then gestured to the kitchen. An invisible draft of cool air blew from the high vent and arced onto the table. I came up with a few curses of my own for the architect who’d put the vent there in the first place. I was glad of it now, but I wouldn’t want to eat a hot breakfast under the thing.
“Yeah, sorry,” Allie said again as she slid into a chair. She stripped off her denim outer shirt. She’d chosen to keep it on while the repairman was there, and now I understood why. Her mesh top was a serious distraction, even with a bra underneath. Now it was a welcome relief from the heat, and she actually shivered as the air from the vent washed over her.
“It’s just that I’ve dealt with his type before,” she continued after a moment.
“The owner?”
“Like, I can’t help but wonder what kind of estimate I’ll get.”
“What do you mean? Ah, never mind, I think I know.”
She scowled. “‘Damsel in distress’ pricing.”
“Seriously? Do women still get that?”
“All the time. From car mechanics, repairmen, you name it.”
“Sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No, I’m sure the estimate’ll be fair. Well, I hope it will. I’ll get more than one. And if you don’t mind, I’ll run them by you.”
“Of course. I can also ask our mechanical department for a list of contractors and prices. In fact, I should be able to get a unit at cost.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Wholesale?”
“Yep. I don’t see why not. I mean, it’s kinda my job.”
She smiled for the first time since the repairman had delivered the news. Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last.
“What’s the matter?”
“Just thinking about why I’m in this situation in the first place.” She shook her head in muted fury. “Ken was supposed to keep up with home maintenance and all. He said it was a man’s job,” she added bitterly. “Thinking back, I don’t know if he ever did anything useful. I mean, I’m finding out all kinds of things now that I’m doing everything.”
“Is that why you were arguing with him the other day? Before the party?” I’d heard about it secondhand from Madison, but I could work out the details on my own.
“Don’t get me started,” Allie griped, although it was a figure of speech more than a warning. She wanted to talk about it.
Something else occurred to me, from a conversation we’d had after the party.
“Ah. And that’s why you asked about a new house, one like ours.”
“Yeah, sort of,” she said. “Ken’s still on the mortgage for this one. I’m supposed to buy him out as part of the divorce, but we can’t agree on a price.”
“Seriously?”
“We’ve been arguing for months. At this point I think he’s just doing it to piss me off. He wants a premium, ‘for his lost investment.’ Ha! Like he ever invested in me or the girls!” Her eyes bored holes in the table. “I’m willing to pay fair market value, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give him one cent more. In the meantime, he should pay half the cost of repairs. I mean, that’s only fair.”
I nodded.
“I thought so too, but not Kenny-boy. He said he’d pay for half of everything he uses.”
“In other words, nothing.”
“Zip, zilch, nada,” she agreed in disgust. “And now I need a new air conditioner.”
“Can you afford it?” I had a fleeting fantasy where I was the knight in shining armor and loaned her the money, but I knew better.
“What? Oh, of course.” Allie waved away the cost like it was nothing. “That isn’t the problem.”
I didn’t know what her finances were like, but I didn’t think a book editor made that much.
“No, it’s the principle.”
“Fair enough,” I said noncommittally.
“I’m tempted to pay for it myself and tell my lawyer to deduct half from what I eventually pay Ken for the house. Then he can deal with a fait accompli.”
I chuckled, “That’d work.”
“But yeah,” she finished, “I can afford it.” She fell silent, and the anger drained out of her shoulders. “Sorry to burden you with my problems.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“Yeah, well… I appreciate it.”
“Even better if they’re friends with benefits.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amusement.
“Sorry. I’m still horny. I held off as long as I could, but… you look really good in that top.”
She glanced down.
“You’d look better out of it…,” I suggested, and she snorted at the corny line. “Sorry, I can’t help it,” I added. “I’m used to sex in the morning. A couple of times.”
“A couple…?” She thought of something and grinned. “So you’re a full load shy of happy?”
“Ha! Exactly.”
“What should we do about it?”
“You can suck me off.”
“Again?” she grinned. “Tempting… but what’re my other options?”
“We can go back to my place.”
“And do what?”
“Fuck like teenagers, duh.”
“Ha! Honesty… how refreshing!”
✧ ✧ ✧
Allie leaned forward slightly, and her head shadowed my face. The sun hovered directly above her and formed a halo around her light brown hair. She wore it tied back in a pair of braids that began above her temples. She’d done it on the drive over, twisting and plaiting almost unconsciously as we talked.
I realized now why she had. Her hips moved and her breasts swung as she rode me, but the braids kept her hair out of her face.
“Tell me when…,” she said, her voice thick with her own pleasure. She’d come twice already, although neither had been a big one like the night before.
Still, the first time had been fairly quick, even though her mind was somewhere else. I almost stopped a couple of times, but she noticed and begged me to keep going. I eventually figured it out—she was enjoying a fantasy, and my body was a stand-in for whatever was going on in her head. Part of me was annoyed, but a smaller part was pragmatic about it.
Who cares! I’m in her pussy. Does it really matter who’s in her head? Besides, you do the same thing.
I do not.
So… Alyssa Milano? he taunted. Reese Witherspoon? Halle Berry?
No one likes a smartass. Now, are you gonna focus or not?
The peanut gallery fell silent at that point, and Allie finished quietly as well. Then she caught her breath, gazed into my eyes, and urged me to keep going. She began playing with her clit, while I concentrated on giving her what she wanted. We switched positions a couple of times, on our sides and then doggy, and she eventually came again.
“Let me ride you.”
I sat back on my heels, caught my breath, and snugged the condom down my shaft. Allie stood with a groan.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Just my legs. They’re still sore from yesterday.”
“I’m happy with a blowjob if you want. Or I can jerk off.”
“I’ll be okay.” She arched an eyebrow. “I mean, once I have someplace to sit.”
I practically flung myself onto my back, and Allie straddled my hips. Then she reached between us, steadied my cock, and sank onto it. After a moment to enjoy it, she closed her eyes and began moving her hips. I took the hint and guided her up and down as she fucked me slowly.
“Tell me when…,” she repeated.
I nodded, and my breathing grew labored as the pressure built in my balls. She moved atop me and added her own sighs to the mix. I tried to hold out as long as I could, to prolong the pleasure for both of us, but my dick finally had enough.
“Now,” I grunted.
Allie leapt off me, grabbed the condom, and pulled it off. The friction was too much, and my cock swelled. I clenched every muscle I could, but a geyser of semen arced into the air. Thick droplets landed on my chest. A second spurt shot a line of jizz up my abdomen.
Allie laughed, a mixture of surprise and delight. Then she caught my cock and aimed the last spurts into her mouth. Her lips closed around the head, and she swallowed. I breathed hard through my nose as my orgasm subsided, and Allie used my dick like a paintbrush to spread semen and saliva over her cheeks.
After a moment she held my shaft out of the way and planted her lips on the smooth base. Then she kissed her way up my body until she reached the wayward semen. She glanced up and held my eyes as she licked the pearly liquid from my stomach.
“Mmm, salty.” She kissed the final drops and used her fingers to spread them around her lips. “I’m ready for my closeup.” She stretched up to kiss me but then laughed. “I won’t do that to you.”
“I don’t mind—”
“I know. I was just kidding.”
“—but you’re right, it isn’t my favorite thing in the world.”
“That’s okay.” She thought of something.
“What?”
“A blast from the past. Something Reese and Rob liked.”
I still wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I eventually made the connection—she was talking about the twins.
“Remind me and I’ll tell you sometime.” She smirked and added, “Or show you.”
My eyebrows rose a notch.
“If you wanna bring a friend.”
“Lemme guess… Mark?”
“If you want,” she said coyly. “In the meantime… God, it’s hot out here!” She collapsed atop me and sighed with exhaustion.
“Really? That’s where you’re gonna leave me? ‘Bring Mark,’ and then, ‘God, it’s hot out here’?”
“Well, it is.”
“Uh-huh,” I said dryly.
She sighed and kissed my chest, but she was thinking of mischief instead of relaxing. She was nearly my height, and her feet stuck out past mine. All of a sudden I pointed my toes and curled them for good measure. She tried to tickle me anyway. I tensed to push her off.
“No, don’t, please!” she begged. “Sorry, I’ll behave.”
I relaxed but kept my guard up. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I mean it this time.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I swear.”
I silently doubted her.
“Pinky-swear.” She held it up, and I curled mine around hers.
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t.”
I relaxed for real, although I waited before I closed my eyes against the glare of the sun. Allie rested her cheek on my chest and breathed a sigh of her own.
“This is nice,” she said drowsily. “Sticky and hot, but nice.”
“We can go for a swim to cool off.”
“Later. Right now I’m too tired to move. I’m not used to this kind of workout.”
“Stick with me, kid,” I bragged, “and I’ll whip you into shape.”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
“Penis pilates. Guaranteed results or your money back.”
“Good,” she laughed, “I need a new air conditioner.”
✧ ✧ ✧
The building’s double doors flew apart, and a ravening horde of barbarian girls burst into the open. They rushed our line and swung their backpacks and lunch bags with complete disregard for friend and foe alike. Ponytails and hair ribbons streamed behind them like clan banners, and shrill cries filled the quiet afternoon.
The leading battle maidens scanned our line and selected targets. Two of them raced toward us with mayhem in their eyes. The smaller one, a blonde pixie, attacked the near side. She tore open the rear door with enough force to make the hinges contemplate metal fatigue and early retirement. The maiden ignored their protests and vaulted into the seat with a cry of triumph.
“Ha, first!”
The one with light brown hair and long legs skipped between cars. She ignored me completely and yanked open the door behind me. Then she leapt inside and slammed it after her. The blonde maiden took the hint. She grabbed her own door and heaved with the strength of a Valkyrie.
Another pair of girls spotted us. They were smaller and didn’t charge like the others had, but they were just as dangerous. They slowed to a stop about fifteen paces away. The first had bright blue eyes, the color of the sky in the frozen north. The other’s were almond-shaped and blazed with golden flames.
Frost and fire both glared. The older barbarians had barred the gates, and the younger ones had a score to settle. But first they needed to find a way inside.
I pushed a button, and the tailgate swooshed up.
The pint-sized Valkyrie cried in outrage, “Unh, Dad! No fair!”
Outside, the dark-haired frost maiden grinned and waved to her companion. They charged around back and leapt into the breach. The heavy vehicle rocked from the force of their assault.
The first girl climbed over the back of the third row seats. She landed head-first with a thump of upholstery, although she rolled and came up ready to fight. The second girl squirmed through the gap and joined her.
“Ha!” Frost shouted at the Valkyrie in the middle row.
“Yeah, ha!” Fire cried.
The tallest one rolled her eyes. “God, they are soimmature.”
The visiting queen turned in the passenger seat. “Maddy…”
“What? I didn’t do anything.”
“Be right back.” I hopped out and walked to the rear. Barbarian girls only knew how to breach a gate. Someone else had to close it after them.
The king is but a servant to his people.
The visiting queen shot me a grin when I returned. In the back of the vehicle, the maidens had stopped trading barbs. They were shield-sisters, after all, part of the same war band. Now they were digging for snacks in their insulated lunch bags. Storming an SUV was a hungry business.
I eyed them in the rearview mirror. “Do we need to stop for smoothies on the way home?”
“Oh my gosh, yes, please!”
The horde on the sidewalk had grown thin. The other girls had seized their own vehicles and were probably making similar demands for food and drink. Ahead of us, the line of cars began to move out of the parking lot. The barbarian conquerors were herding their captives back to their villages. I shifted into gear and followed.
The visiting queen gave me a speculative look, one that promised a warm welcome if I chose to visit her bedchamber that night. I smiled sideways and was just about to accept—discreetly, of course—when a small voice interrupted from the back.
“I still don’t see why they call it lunch,” the frost maiden said, “especially at eleven o’clock.”
Her friend nodded around a mouthful of granola bar.
“Only, it’s really brunch.”
The Valkyrie in the middle took umbrage. “It is not!”
“Is so.”
“It’s called lunch because it’s the middle of the day.”
“No, it isn’t,” the frost maiden replied calmly. “Brunch is from ten to twelve. Nana said—”
“Nana said,” the older girl mocked.
“Nana said,” the younger one continued, undaunted, “lunch is from twelve to two. Anything after is tea or dinner. Mom says so too. Isn’t that right, Dad?”
“That’s what she says,” I agreed. “But I don’t think it makes a difference—”
“Of course it does. You have to call things by their right names. So you can’t eat lunch at eleven o’clock. Although… I suppose truck drivers do it—”
I shot a bemused look at the visiting queen.
“—especially if they sleep during the day,” the frost maiden finished. She’d left out a critical part of her logic, but the omission didn’t even slow her down. “What d’you think, Carly?”
The fire maiden shrugged and took another bite of granola bar.
“Exactly. See? Carly thinks so too.”
“No one cares,” the small Valkyrie said.
As if to prove her point, she bit into a peanut butter and graham cracker square. The taller one examined a banana that looked a little smushed from the assault. She decided to eat it anyway.
“Truck drivers care,” the frost maiden said. “They probably get special permission. To eat lunch at night, I mean. Only… I wonder when they feed their dogs.”
I gave the visiting queen another bemused look, but she was struggling not to laugh. My youngest maiden was perhaps a bit too much like her mother, the queen. She tended to skip over parts of the conversation that didn’t interest her.
“Hey, Dad?” the maiden asked. “D’you think I could be a truck driver?”
The fire maiden beside her spared a moment to wonder where that had come from. Then she shrugged it off and rummaged through her lunch bag until she found a fruit roll-up, manna from heaven.
“If you want,” I said neutrally.
“Then I could drive Mom’s art to California. I could visit Nana and Granddad. Oh, oh! I could see my cousins, too. That’d be fun.”
“It’s a long drive.”
“I know. A lot longer than flying. You’re probably right, I should take someone with me. To help with the driving, I mean. Do you think Bucket could do it? Only… I might need to change his name.”
My eyebrows drew together again. “What’s the matter with Buck?”
“No, not that name. Rothchild. Mom says it’s a person-name, whatever that means.” She frowned but then brightened. “I wanted to call him Sir Bucket Colin Montgomery Rothchild Hughes, III, but she didn’t like that one either. ‘It’s a mouthful, honey.’ Of course it is! How else are you s’posed to say it? I even left one out—a name, I mean—but that’s okay. So, what do you think? About Roscoe, I mean? Bucket Roscoe Hughes?”
“It’s a good name,” I said, although the longer one had a certain charm. Then again, people accused me of being a wordy bastard.
All of a sudden the frost maiden realized she didn’t have a snack. She unzipped her lunch bag with single-minded determination.
I chuckled. Barbarian needs food… badly.
She came up with her own baggie of peanut butter and graham cracker squares. They too had suffered in the assault, but it hardly mattered.
“Oh, yum! My favorite! Thanks, Em! Here ya go, Carly, I’ll share.”
✧ ✧ ✧
Comments
Thank you.
Nick Scipio
Thanks, Bob. And thanks for reading.
Nick Scipio
Thanks. That was a really fun scene to write.
Much to love but really enjoyed the barbarian analogy.
Thanks, Nick, enjoying the new series looking forward to the next installment.
Thank you Nick!
