I was the first to arrive at the new project site on Douglas and Simms. My pick up truck was loaded down with all the equipment and gear we'd need to get started on the demolitions. With coffee in hand, I dropped the gate of the truck and wiped off a spot to plant my ass upon while I waited for Juan and the rest of my crew to show up. I was sipping my coffee, swinging my legs and enjoying the last few minutes of peace and quiet in my day.
My boots were worn out and nasty looking but comfortable as hell and my flannel shirt would be coming off by 7:30 in this miserable July heat. I looked at the old white Victorian and thanked God for small favors. At least we'd be working on the north end of the house where it doesn't get as much sun as the other sides. I was tired of getting burnt and having my skin peel. Not attractive to the femmes, no ma'am.
I got up and canvassed the house. Mr. Burton's black Mercedes was parked in the garage and the red Saab convertible, Mrs. Burton's I presumed, was parked in the driveway. There were no tools hanging on the walls, no workbenches to maneuver around and no toys to step over. Everything was impeccably clean and tidy in the garage.
I was happy to be working for the "Moneys" as we so fondly referred to the wealthier folks in the town. I knew it'd be a bitch of a project but nothing we couldn't handle. At least I'd get paid and paid well for a good job.
Loud hollering erupted from the kitchen and wound its way to the front door. Mr. Burton blasted through the entrance and knocked over the potted plants that guarded the door in his haste to grab his newspaper and run. Magically, the garage door opened and the Mercedes came to life with blinks and chirps. He didn't see me until he nearly crashed into my truck.
"Hey Gracie, fix the squeak on the pocket doors in the library for me, will ya? If I have to go into that fucking house again, I'll beat her ass," he said as he waved me away. I returned the wave to a dust cloud hovering where Mr. Burton used to be.
I stood there in the driveway with a cup of cooling coffee wondering who the hell pissed in his Wheaties when I heard the screen door open. Flashes of reds, pinks and golds swirled about the entrance door. As I approached, grunting noises and long scraping sounds were becoming louder. Flying out from the entrance came books and picture frames and open suitcases full of clothing. I guessed I was about to meet the Wheaties pisser.
She was wearing a fiery silk robe with golden japanese characters and pink lotus flowers. Apparently, she didn't believe in modesty at 6:30 in the morning because her robe flew open as she chucked the last of Mr. Burton's shit out the door. I was stunned to see her pale skin and pink nipples leaping high into the air but I wasn't upset by the spectacle, to say the least. As her long red hair landed in her face, she turned to me and growled, "who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you staring at?"
Like a dumbass, I stuck out my hand and introduced myself, "I'm Gracie Hernandez and my crew and I are remodeling your kitchen and deck today." I smiled, trying to put on my best "customer service glow".
She just glared at me for the longest time as my hand slowly dropped to my side. Finally, she closed her robe and tied it shut. "You have got to be kidding me. You? You are going to be working on my house today?" she stammered.
"Yes ma'am. Actually, we'll be here for about two weeks," I said. "I hope you don't mind." I knew that was the worst thing to say to a furious woman but I tend to keep a mental script for such occasions.
She turned and slammed the door in my face. ======
Juan, Mickey, Kevin and Sam showed up 15 minutes late and I had to bitch them out again but we eventually got equipment unloaded and set up for demolition. As they were preparing the exterior, I knocked on the front door to enquire about the preparations being done on the inside. The red head opened the door and glared at me.
"May I take a look inside your kitchen for a minute?" I asked sweetly. "I have to see if your personal belongings will be safe or if they need to be removed."
She stepped aside hesitantly and lead me to the kitchen. My tool belt clinked and clanked as I watched her curvy hips churn in the faded Levi's she was wearing. Her robe had been replaced with a green tank top that exposed her blue bra straps and hugged her womanly body. Devious thoughts ran through my mind until I noticed that the kitchen had not been packed and cleared. "Ma'am," I said. "We're going to be knocking down this wall today and it was expected that everything would be cleared from the cabinets and windows."
She brushed her hair from the side of her face and fixed her eyes on mine. "I am not doing any such thing!" she said defiantly. "And, for your information, my name isn't Ma'am, it's Maggie."
"Well okay, Maggie." I put my measuring tape back in my pouch and glared back at her. "I'll have to add time and labor to the work order and, of course, that will mean overtime for us, but we are going to have this wall down and secure by the end of the day. Catch my drift?"
With her hands on her hips, she snapped her head so that her braid landed on her back. I mimicked her except for the fact that my short dark hair doesn't move at all. I don't like to be fucked with and she was starting to get on my nerves. I could tell she felt the same way.
I rapped on the window and asked Mickey to get me the contract and blueprints. Moments later, I found the pages with her signature. "This is your signature? This is our contract? These are the work orders? Yes or no," I said as I tapped the paperwork.
"Yes, but..." she sputtered as I enjoyed watching her squirm. She was looking for a way to fuck up my day and I wasn't letting her get my goat. We argued over details in the contract and minutiae on the blueprints. Finally she shouted, "Just get the hell off my property! I want you out of here in 10 minutes!"
I gathered up the blueprints and contracts and strutted for the door. As we passed the livingroom, I stopped, pointed to the far corner and casually mentioned that my recliner and entertainment center were going to look fabulous in MY new house.
I had cleared the door when she screamed out, "Fuck you, Dyke!" I wanted to scream back, "see you in court". Unfortunately, my quick response was cut short. My hammer got caught on the door frame, pulling me off balance and I landed face first in the evergreen shrubs. My short little legs poked out from the tops of the bushes and I could hear her giggles turn to out right "in your face" howls of laughter.
"Wanna give me a hand?" I squeaked. It's so hard to be graceful when your ass is over your head.
She took her time coming down the steps and actually paused to watch me try to untangle myself from the bushes. My boot was caught on something and I couldn't get upright. My face had turned red and my breakfast was threatening a return visit. Maggie unhooked my boot and offered me her hand to help me back up.
"Are you alright?" she asked through muffled giggles. Her hands tried to hide her face but I knew she was trying very hard not to burst out again.
I tried to look distinguished as I straightened my t-shirt. "Oh hell yeah. It happens to me all the time." And then she all out lost it. I mean it. She was laughing so hard she squeezed her knees together. "I could have DIED and you're yukking it up. That's cute, Maggie, really cute. Hardee haaar har".