Oh sure, I got a glamorous job. You can call me the Plumber to the Stars. I grew up in Southern California and worked here all my life, started in the plumbing business with my Dad just outta High School. I'm good at my job, damn good; the famous folks like my work and I don't blab their secrets, so I got a pretty steady business and I make enough money. Well, I'm not Richard Branson and my kids didn't go to Stanford, but I don't have to worry about being able to buy anything I really need or want.
You bet the tabloids are after me. I know who outta be in rehab, who's in the closet, who's made some strange alterations to their house. Wouldn't be any problem to whip out my iPhone and take some pictures of ladies who never do a nude scene getting that all over tan. Know lots of folks who work this neighborhood who sell them out, make some nice side income. Not me, I'm too honest for that, don't believe in backstabbing people who trust me. They're just like everybody else, and deserve a little privacy.
I'm not a star myself. I'm 57, average height, got less hair on my head than I used to and what little's there is mostly grey, a pot belly, and things ache that didn't used to, but I'm in decent shape since I keep busy. Have to take some shit from my buddies regular since my name's Bobby McGhee: every time I hang out with the guys, some asshole has to put that old song on the jukebox. It's amazing I still like Janis' voice after all these years. But I got a great little lady, and I don't regret marrying Alice the day after we graduated high school. After 39 years, I'd still run through a wall for that woman.
So I pulled up at Heather's house at 6:30AM on a usual perfect Southern Cali morning, got out and checked my appointment schedule on my iPhone. Shit, another busy day. I wouldn't get home until after 7PM. Almost a good thing Alice was on the East Coast with our granddaughter Barbara, who's having her third baby. Two weeks on my own and I was missing her. My dick remembered it was lonely for a moment, but then I remembered everything I had to do and it passed.
Heather's usually awake doing yoga, so she makes early appointments. She greeted me wearing a hot pink leotard and a sweet smile when I rang the doorbell and let me in: "How's it going, Bobby?"
"All right. What's the problem?"
"Back up in the hot tub in the master bedroom. My maid tried to clean it and it took forever to drain."
"Probably just needs a snake. I remember where the access is. Won't take long."
"Thanks, Bobby. You're the best."
"Don't I know it."
She giggled as she took me through the house, and I found the access to the hot tub drain. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Sure." I watched her leave, her butt twitching nicely as she walked out the door. Well, I'm only human, and I see lots of gorgeous women. Usually I spend that energy on Alice, which is one reason we have six kids. I got busy and had the snake down the drain, finding some gunk way down the pipe, and breaking it up. Heather back with a steaming mug and sat on the throne to watch as I finished the job.
Things got cleared out and I ran the faucet to make sure the water was draining right. Put the snake away and took the cup, tasting some ambrosia. Heather had a hopeful look on her face and I wondered what was up. Even without makeup first thing in the morning, she was drop dead gorgeous. Sure, I'd seen the clip from the red carpet where she told everyone her secret: she used semen to keep her face free of wrinkles. Guess it works, from what I saw. "How's it going, Bobby? Alice doing all right?"
I make small talk with all my clients, we know each other pretty well. "She's fine, just fine. Out in Baltimore with Barbara; she's due any day now. How's your daughter doing?"
"Oh, fantastic. She's got a job this morning, so she cleared out early. I'm on my own today."
"Any jobs coming up?"
"A couple, I'm reading some scripts my agent sent over. Mostly crap. Going to Greece next month for a photo shoot, mother-daughter."
