"Did you enjoy the show?"
The young apprentice froze, bent over his toolbox with his back to the person asking the question. Mrs. Nelson, Andrew thought, his brain pairing the voice with an image of her naked and spread for her also-naked husband. The first blast of fear-driven adrenaline surged through him and his cock waffled between engorging from the memory or shrinking in panic over the idea that she knew what he had been doing Friday night.
"Uhh, sorry?" He continued to stare into the collection of tools below him, stalling as he tried to come up with a way to explain his way out of this mess.
"Did you enjoy the show?" she repeated. "Didn't you go to see your brother's band?"
Andrew felt light headed as the adrenaline ran its course. "Oh, yeah, I did, thanks," he stammered as he concentrated on rummaging through his collection of wrenches. "Did you have a nice weekend?"
"Very nice. thank you." Andrew continued to intently scan his toolbox until the woman behind him decided the shy young man was not up for a conversation today and moved on to speak with Walt about his retirement paperwork. Images of a very nude and naughty Gwen Nelson were bright and clear even as his nerves calmed, images he had used to pleasure himself quite a few times over the weekend.
"Andrew!" Tim's shout brought back the panic, the young man convinced his boss had somehow caught him thinking about his wife before he was able to calm himself enough to hope that was impossible.
"Yeah, Tim?"
"You're riding with me today, buttercup. Grab your stuff and get in. We got customers waiting!"
Again the adrenaline flowed and panic surged. Andrew had been riding with Walt on a daily basis for a while now, actually doing more than a fair share of the actual work while Walt "supervised". Why the change in routine?
They were on the road a couple of minutes later, the young apprentice distraught with uncertainty. Did Tim know? Was he about to get his ass kicked and fired in one explosive burst?
"Andrew, there's something I wanna talk to you about..."
Oh shit, here it comes, the young man thought, and started looking for places alongside the road where he might be able to leap from the moving vehicle if it came down to violence.
"You probably guessed that with Walt retiring, we're gonna need another plumber so we can keep up the pace. You know Eric Andersen?" The young apprentice nodded, unable to comprehend how any of this had anything to do with jerking off while watching his bosses have sex. "We're hiring him to take Walt's place. He's gonna start next week. You're the only apprentice who knows about this so far, so I'd appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself until we tell Jordan and Mike."
"Sure Tim, yeah..." Okay, maybe I'm not about to get fired, Andrew dared hope. Still, why am I the only one who knows about the new guy?
"But even if we replace Walt with Eric, we're still getting too busy to be a three-plumber shop. So me and Gwen were talking, and what we want is for you to get off your ass and test up for your Journeyman's certificate. If you can do that, we'll add a truck and send you out doing some of the basic jobs—tear-outs, leaky faucets, the same shit you've been doing for Walt the past year." Andrew looked over at his boss, trying to wrap his head around what seemed to be an offer of promotion. "Yeah, I know how much stuff you've been doing that Walt should have been doin'," Tim said with a grin. "I know he can't get that fat ass into tight places so well any more, and his knees make it tough to get under sinks...I know he thought you were doing the jobs well enough not to make fixing them after a pain in the ass for him. Which tells me you can be doing that shit on your own if you just pass the goddamn test. Get off your ass, study—Cliff and me will help you there if you need it—take the test, and pass it. We buy a new truck, I get that one and you get the oldest, most-raggedy ass one. Deal?"
Andrew looked down at the hand being offered to him and could not understand how he could survive so many shocks in one morning without passing out or throwing up. He took the outstretched hand and shook it. "Deal."
***
Gwen waited until lunch to call Cricket, anxious to see how she was faring but not wanting to seem too anxious.
"Kristen LaPointe."
"Hi Cricket, it's Gwen. How are you?"
"Oh-hi. I'm fine, how are you?"
She sensed her call was not unwelcome, but the voice on the other end was tinged with worry. To be expected, the Lady sniffed. Leave her alone—none of your business. "Everything going okay?"
"Everything's fine—can I call you back in a minute?"
"Of course—if now is a bad time, you can call me whenever you want. I won't bother you again until I hear from you."
"You're not bothering me at all, it's good to hear a friendly voice, it's just—I'll call you in a little bit, okay?"
Told you, the Lady crowed. You're being a pesky little busybody. She doesn't want or need your help.
The Lady's pronouncement was cut short by the phone's ring.
"Hi Gwen," Cricket began. "Sorry, I just wanted to go someplace more private. Probably best for everyone not to know my business."
"That's alright! So how is everything going?"
"Well..." she began, deciding whether to continue.
"Come on Cricket, out with it."
"Daniel left some papers while he was here getting his things. He got a lawyer, Gwen! I thought we were just going to handle this between ourselves! I can't understand why he got one—we haven't got anything worth fighting over, and I figured whatever we do have we would split equally. I can't afford a lawyer! What am I going to do?"
"Cricket, let me make a call. Don't do anything until you hear back from me, understand?"
"But I—"
"I will call you back as soon as I can. In the meantime, don't do anything. Alright?"
"But—"
"I'll call you back soon—I promise."
Gwen began dialing as soon as she hung up. The line picked up on the first ring. "Curran, Stein and Associates, may I direct your call?"
"Norman Curran, please."
"Mr. Curran is not available at the moment. May I ask who's calling and I can give him a message?"
"This is Gwen Nelson."
"Oh—hello, Mrs. Nelson. I'll see if your father can be interrupted. Please hold for a moment."
The line was picked up less than a minute later. "Gwen! Nice to hear from you!" Gwen smiled at the sound of her father's voice. He had always been the more temperate counter to her mother's puritanical, autocratic ways, even if Irene Curran had always been the undisputed ruler of the family castle. And although he had always been formal with his only daughter, she was beginning to understand that it was likely because he had never known how to be any other way. Father and daughter exchanged pleasantries before Gwen got down to business.
"Listen Dad, I need a favor. I have a friend whose husband is filing for divorce. They're just starting out and don't have a lot of money, so it seems a little fishy to me that her husband got a lawyer. Think the firm can help her out?"
"Well, if she doesn't have a lot of money, she probably can't afford us. I can suggest a couple of new guys in town that work at fairly reasonable rates—"
"No, I want Joe on this. Can you have him take this one, please?"
"That's a pretty big request, Gwen. You know Joe tends to work the bigger fish for us. He's pretty busy with—"
"Too busy even after all the work Nelson Plumbing has done over the years for your firm as well as your personal residence at greatly discounted rates, not to mention finding key evidence in the waste pipe of one of your client's homes, exonerating him of all charges...please, Daddy? For me?"
"Alright, alright," Norman Curran grumbled. "I'll ask Joe to give her a call and see what the situation is...sliding scale, will that be satisfactory, councilor?"
Gwen smiled. She knew the code phrase 'sliding scale' more often than not turned into pro bono. "Very satisfactory. Thank you daddy. You're wonderful. You'll have him call her today?"
"Yes, yes, today. You would have made a great lawyer, Gwen."
"I don't think that was ever in mother's plan. Besides, your partners are not particularly fond of uppity women, especially uppity woman lawyers."
"That's not true! Need I remind you that Sylvia is a full partner?"
"Only because you saw the coming equal opportunity protests better than your partners did."
He laughed, knowing he had lost this round. "See you at Sunday dinner next week?"
"You will. Thanks again, Daddy."
Her father hung up the phone and smiled. The last time she had called him 'Daddy' was when she was seventeen and had wanted his permission to work at the stables for a year before going to college. It had made him go against his better judgement (and her mother's strident protests) then, and had made him give away valuable company billing hours today. Damn, she was good.
But he knew she was also correct. The firm would not have welcomed a woman into the partnership, even a great-granddaughter of one of the founders. No, Gwen would have been better suited marrying one of the promising young lawyers her father had in mind for her and producing the grandsons that might eventually join the firm. Still, he couldn't complain about her eventual choice for a husband. Tim was a good man, and his father-in-law was thankful for his daughter's happiness.
Gwen was dialing even as she heard the line disconnect. "Kristen LaPointe."
"Cricket, it's Gwen. You will be receiving a call from a lawyer by the name of Joe Gambini this afternoon. Joe's with Curran, Stein, and Associates, and does family law for them. Quite well. He's going to represent you."
"Gwen, that's very nice of you, but I can't afford a lawyer, especially from Curran, Stein, and Associates!"
"Oh, you know the firm?"
"I know they're very good, and they're very expensive. The bank has had some dealing with them, and I looked them up this morning after you mentioned when we were riding that your father and brother were partners there ..."
"Well, don't worry about the cost. The firm will only charge you what Joe thinks you can afford."
"Gwen, this is so nice of you, but really, I can't—"
