A Quic Fix

I shut the door to my truck and sagged into the seat. Thankfully I'd started the truck several minutes ago when I knew I'd finished the job. The warmth was a welcome reprieve. My bones seemed to be frozen stiff. People always liked to talk for some reason. I decided to put the truck in gear and get on the road before the customers came back outside to ask me something else.

Soon I was good and toasty. The sun was setting on the horizon. The winter sky was awash with orange and red streaks. Its rays had hardly helped that afternoon. I had been under the people's house away from its light, battling dirt and cobwebs. I couldn't wait to get back to my place and crack open a cold one. I knew I also had a fifth of whiskey stashed somewhere in the kitchen. Maybe I'd get cozy and take a few sips of that, melt the ice from my joints.

I'd been driving for no more than five minutes when I noticed my phone light up from the console. I sighed and picked it up, silencing it even before my ringtone kicked in. Staring at the name displayed on the screen, I scrunched up my face.

"Ronnie Mitchell," I said aloud to no one. "The hell is he calling for?"

It crossed my mind to chuck the phone back into the console. I hadn't heard from the guy in months. He wasn't the type to call for a chat. I knew he wanted something. I had a nagging feeling that I knew what that might be. The thought only made it more appealing to set the phone down.

I shook my head. I knew myself better than that. I swiped the screen and put the phone to my ear.

"Hello this is Tony?" I said into the phone.

"Hey, bud! What're you into?" I heard a gruff voice reply.

"Hey, Ronnie," I said. "Just easing back home for the day."

"You been real busy?"

"All day everyday," I confirmed. "Had a couple small jobs today. Not too fond of the last one. How have you been, big fella?"

"Ah, shit, you know me," Ronnie said. "Getting by and getting older. Trying to find a spot where these bass will bite in the damned dead of winter."

I opted out of more small talk. I'd had enough for one day.

"I hear that, man," I said. Quickly, I steered toward the point hoping I could still steer toward home. "What's got you calling, Ronnie? You need something done?"

I heard him snort into the phone. "Well, yeah. I'm afraid so. In a damn hurry, too."

I grimaced, but nodded to myself.

"Oh, yeah?" I said flatly.

"Damn water line at the house is busted, I think," the man told me. "Under the house somewhere, best I can damn gather."

"Damn," I said, smiling and shaking my head.

"Yeah, old lady got home awhile ago," Ronnie explained. "Said she had no water, or very little. Now I talked her through it best I could, but you know how that is on the damn phone. She looked out at the road, said the meter was spinnin' something fierce. I had her stick her head up in unner' the house and the way she talks is the house is about to float away."

Shit. There it was. I was beginning to regret making a decent name for myself.

"Wonder if you got time to run out there tonight." Ronnie said. "Maybe it's something small and my old lady is just talking it up."

It was a question. Ronnie's wonderful way with words made it sound more like a statement. I glanced at the time on my truck radio. Of course it wasn't that late. The skies were already turning black quickly, though. I chewed my lip. The bitter cold outside only made contemplate the situation. Not just because I'd be right back out in the frigid weather, but also because I'd be telling Ronnie and his wife to basically shove it and find someone else if I didn't agree to go out there. I'd be asking him to tell the woman she'd likely be without water for a lot longer than he'd probably promised her.

I couldn't help think of the last bit of work I'd done for the Mitchells. The guy had paid me double what I'd quoted him, just because his daughter and I had been friends way back in school. I knew Ronnie wouldn't be bashful when it came to pulling out his checkbook. We'd known each other a long time.

I rolled my eyes. I hated myself sometimes.

"Sure, Ronnie," I agreed. "Let Melanie know I'm headed that way. She is still at the house, right?"

"Yeah, she's there," Ronnie said. "She's getting some kind of damn food ready for Megan's party, or something."

"Oh, really?" I said, feigning interest. "It's not her birthday? Thought that was in the summer?"

"No, she's throwing one of her friends a baby shower or some damn thing like that." The man paused. "Evidently that calls for food, for some damn reason. Anyway, we're bout to stop and find something to eat. We've been driving all damn day and I'm starving. Will you let me know what you find?"

"Sure will, Ronnie," I replied. "I'll be in touch big guy."

"Thanks, bud," Ronnie said. "Glad to see some of your generation ain't lazy damn punks."

"I try, sir," I said.

"Be careful, Tony!"

"Will do."

I hung up the phone, already wanting to bash my head into the steering wheel. Instead I turned down the road that would lead me back across town. I sighed. This was what I wanted. More work, more food on my table, more pocket change. As badly as I wanted to be home, my new outlook on life demanded that I busy myself and better myself.

Staring out the windshield, I could only say it the way Ronnie would.

"Damn."

****

The Mitchells lived off a country highway just outside of town. It wasn't in the middle of nowhere. In fact I'd dreamed of finding someplace just like theirs. It was quiet, had few neighbors, and boasted lots of scenery right at the doorstep. It wasn't that far out of the way either. I pulled my truck into the winding driveway and followed it to the rear of the house where the garage was situated.

It was a modest place, not near as outrageous as some of the houses I'd worked at, but still nicer than anything I'd lived at in my short life. The flood lights were on. Through the sliding glass doors on the back deck, I could see the house inside was lit up as well. I knew from my visits here that if they weren't entering through the door in the garage, the Mitchells used the back door more often than the front. I decided that's where I'd knock. Melanie was bound to be just inside in the kitchen.

I stepped out of the truck and made my way up the steps onto the deck. I'd come this way lots of times with Megan when we were younger. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Before I reached the glass doors, I saw an older woman step into view. I recognized her, and gave her a little wave to greet her.

Melanie was smiling when she slid the door open.

"Hey, Tony!" She greeting me cheerfully. "Long time, no see!"

"How are you, Mrs. Mitchell?" I said smiling back.

The older woman's face soured.

"Haven't we talked about this?" Melanie said pretending to be annoyed. "Did you forget? Has it been that long?"

"Sorry, Mel," I grinned looking away.

"Get in out of this cold!" Melanie suddenly demanded. "Good lord, it's awful out there!"

I didn't protest. Melanie turned and headed into the house as I stepped inside and slid the door closed behind me. Immediately I noticed how hot it was inside. I'd gotten used to the cold, but apparently others weren't so resistant. Glancing around the familiar house, I saw that not a lot had changed. Most things were exactly how I remembered them. From where I stood in the dining room area, I could see into the living room beyond thanks to the open floor plan. There was a new couch and new carpet where there'd once been hardwood, but Ronnie's lair was much the same.

The kitchen was a similar tale. I even caught a whiff of nostalgia seeing Melanie positioned in front of the stove. Whatever she was baking smelled sweet and mouthwatering. The bar to my right separated the dining room and the kitchen. I remembered being folded up under the sink only a few years back. I leaned on the bar, watching Melanie busy herself near the stove.

"How's Megan?" I asked politely.

Melanie shook her head and sighed. She swept a lock of her short black hair from her forehead.

"Always on the go," Melanie told me. "She's not in beauty school anymore. That girl's bounced around from job to job in the past year. She's got a boyfriend she's been living with, though."

I nodded, ignoring the last bit. "And how's Melanie? I heard you've had yourself an exciting day."

Melanie gave me a look, sucking in a deep breath as she closed her oven and turned toward me.

"You would not believe the day it's turned into, Tony."

I shook my head, feigning denial. "No. Can't be that bad."

"Oh yes," Melanie assured me, her brown eyes growing wider. "My daughter wants a double-decker cake and a mess of peanut butter balls all of the sudden. She just has to have them by tomorrow."

I hid my grin in my hands as I leaned onto them.

"So that trip to the grocery store was fun," Melanie went on. "I get here, and I find out that I have no water. None whatsoever. So that leads to an amazing phone call with the man of the house who always seems to be absent when it starts to fall apart. And let me tell you... don't ever take directions or instructions from my husband on the phone."

"Damn," was all I said.

"Exactly," Melanie said nodding. "It was the damn water meter this, or under the damn house that. Then there was the waterfall I found under the house. I could see it with the flashlight, thank heavens. Wish I could relax tonight, but here we are."

"Right." I chewed away any sarcasm before the word left my mouth.

Melanie sighed yet again and wore a half smile. She stepped over toward the bar. I could tell she was still wearing her work clothes. Tight black slacks hugged her huge hips. Her little golden name tag was still fastened low on the collar her little black blazer. This drew my eyes toward her red button down blouse beneath. I wrestled my eyes back toward her face. A sudden feeling made me uncomfortable. I wasn't going there.

Melanie placed a hand on the bar and leaned there with her legs crossed. She shook her head.

"Sorry for dragging you out here, Tony," Melanie said, allowing a weary smile to cross her face. "I know you'd rather be home than underneath another house."

"It's no big deal," I told her. "I need to stay busy anyhow."

Melanie fetched a small chocolate covered ball from a tray covered with aluminum foil on the bar. As she chewed, she placed both of her hands on the counter top now and leaned closer.

"I think the pipes froze," She told me after swallowing the treat.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on hers.

"That's probably right," I said. "It's been cold lately, really cold last night. You shut the water off?"

Melanie nodded.

A thought occurred to me. "Ronnie not coming come?"

The older woman rolled her eyes. "They're headed south for the winter. No, seriously, he and Jim loaded the boat up to go to some lake in Florida to fish all week long."

Something clicked in me. I couldn't place my finger on it. The whole time I'd been here, Melanie had been playfully exasperated. Her voice had dipped, however. I caught the first true bit of annoyance dripping from her words. I'd seen her frustrated with Ronnie before, but that wasn't it. I felt weird.

I pushed myself away from the bar and rose.

"Well, looks like I got my work cut out for me." I glanced across the kitchen at the tubs of frosting and other items. "I guess you do, too."

Melanie was making her way around the bar, wiping her fingertips on a paper towel.

"Just be careful out there, hear?" She told me. "If you get too cold, just come on back inside. I'll find something to warm you up with."

Melanie's eyes were cast down in thought. The closer she stepped, the more I sensed the nagging feeling inside of me. I'd been around her many times before. We weren't the best of friends, but I'd never felt awkward near her.

Why now?

"Let me know what you find under there," Melanie went on absently. "If you need anything let me know."

She began to rattle off the list of things she needed to complete that night, and the process behind each item she was preparing in the kitchen. I nodded politely, half turned toward the door already.

As she spoke, I couldn't help but look her over. The woman had to be twice my age, perhaps on her late forties or early fifties. It showed, but Melanie wore it all very well. Her black hair was cut short just above her shoulders. She'd put on the weight a person gains with age, though I didn't consider her obese in any sense. But her hips were wide and thick. Her face drooped only slightly at her cheeks. The clothes she wore were not tight, but clung to her well enough I could see the small pouch of a stomach at her midsection beneath her red blouse.

My eyes wandered dangerously now. I couldn't help but eye her breasts. They were hidden beneath her blazer and blouse, but enough was there to make my mind begin to imagine. Her breasts filled the cups that held them so fully that they were visible beneath the fabric of her shirt. The natural way they sagged ever so slightly seemed to only catch my attention more. Though she was still wearing the clothes I knew she'd worn to work at the bank, she was now barefooted. Such a small detail grabbed my attention for some reason.

Melanie was still talking, and I came to a worrying realization. I was actually standing there looking this woman over, thinking about her in ways I never had. I knew her. Not well, but I'd seen her many times in my life. I'd been friends with her daughter. Our families had camped together on occasion. I'd helped she and Ronnie with random events pertaining to their work, and helped them sell food at the county fair. Now they hired me for odd jobs here and there.

I'd never been alone with Melanie. Especially not at their house.

Why was that so disturbing to me? Why hadn't it even crossed my stupid mind until now? This was just another job. That's the way I'd approached it. That's the way it should have been. At best this was a favor on a short notice. Yet here I stood feeling... what? Vulnerable?

Melanie had said something. She was staring at me, waiting patiently for me to respond. I had no idea what it could have been. I wasn't listening. I was staring at her blouse, her hips... her...

"I uh, I'll let you get to it then, Mel," I stammered. "Better see what I can do underneath you. With the pipes."

I spotted one of Melanie's eyebrows flick upward. The way she looked at me... her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but I saw it. The sensation I felt under that gaze was like being caught naked. She gave me an odd little smile and nodded.

"Well, don't be afraid to come up for air," She said. "If you need a break, come find me."

Before I could make more of an ass out of myself, I slid open the back door and slipped outside. Trotting down the steps onto the cold, I felt like punching myself. Melanie's smile was stuck in my head.

Along with the rest of her.

I fetched my coveralls from the back seat of my truck and shook my head. I was imagining things.

What the hell was wrong with me?

****

The fix was fairly simple. If you didn't count the small lake of ice cold water that pooled on the black plastic covering the ground.

Shivering, I lay on my back wearing every warming layer I could and a headlamp. I could see my warm breath rising. Coating the tip of the pipe in the glue, I pressed it into the fitting in my hand. Aside from the water I had to lay in, the crawlspace was one of the cleaner ones I'd worked in. The usual cobwebs or critters weren't in my way. I wasn't able to focus though. The gloves did little to keep my hands from trembling. I was used to that.

It was my thoughts I couldn't keep still. The way she had smiled at me. Was it just me? There'd been a tiny drop of mischief written on her expression. I'd never thought of Mel that way. Hell, I'd never even thought of her daughter that way. Megan had always been a rowdy friend, one I'd met through our mutual friend, her cousin Jeff. And Megan's mom had always just been... well, Mel.

Something felt so different about being at the Mitchells' house, alone with Mel. Maybe it was my lizard brain taking over. I stared up at the floorboards. I could hear her walking around in the house. A few times I could even hear her humming to herself. I wondered if she had changed clothes. Would she be wearing something more comfortable? Maybe she'd be in a set of thin pajama pants, and a small tank top. Her bra would be gone. I imagined her heavy breasts outlined behind white cotton, hanging full and naturally.

I knocked over the small can of cleaner with my elbow. Frantically I snatched it and set it back up before the contents completely spilled out. I shook my head. I had to get a grip. There was no way in hell this was anything but a job. Mel wasn't about to be walking around half naked knowing I was here. She'd wanted me here to fix something, that was it. Melanie wasn't like that.

That look. Damn she'd never looked at me that way. That could have been innocent, too. I wondered if there was something that I could do or say to Melanie to... to test that. Could I push any of her buttons? Maybe a simple compliment? What if we accidentally touched? How would I even pull that off? I could practically feel it. Letting my hand graze the thin material of her slacks, feeling the give in her fleshy hips. Or my fingers sliding down her back to her waist during a hug... had I ever even hugged her? The idea of pulling her body close was enough to have me squirming to accommodate the bulge beneath all the layers of clothes I wore.

I shook my head. Fantasies. That was all they would ever be. What an odd time to be dreaming them up. I secured the fittings together in front of me and gave them a slight tug to ensure I'd glued them well enough. It took a bit of nerve to crawl my way back toward the small opening several feet away. I was still dragging myself through freezing water after all. I pulled myself out onto the grass and stood. I could feel every wet wrinkle in my clothes. I'd been wearing my protective coveralls, which were now filthy, but it hadn't stopped the icy water from soaking through.

I walked back around the house to the driveway and tossed the busted pieces of pipe into the bed of my truck. Grabbing a wrench, I went out toward the road to cut the water back on. I contemplated my next move. I knew that I should make it quick. Tell Mel that it's done, run her water a bit, maybe make sure the water heater is still doing its thing. That's what I told myself. I had to fight off more horrible thoughts. A dirty part of me wanted to create reasons to stick around longer. No one would be home.

I unzipped my coveralls and headed toward the back door of the porch. I'd act casual, tell her how it went, then be on my way. That's it. I approached the house and pecked on the sliding glass doors. For some reason, my heart was pounding. I was holding my breath. The few seconds I stood there took ages to pass.

Melanie came into view. She wore a confused expression. Though she wasn't wearing anything resembling my perverted daydreams, I noticed she was no longer wearing the blazer. Just the slacks and the red blouse. She was waving me in, not approaching the door. I shook my head and slid the door ajar.

"You uh, you don't want me coming in, Mel," I called in to her. "I'm a bit filthy."

"Oh, please, Tony." Melanie rolled her eyes and smiled, but headed into the kitchen again. "Just get in here and kick off your boots."

Melanie didn't appear to want to negotiate. I thought it rude to keep yelling in from the deck. With a sigh I stepped into the house and worked to remove my boots. I glanced into the kitchen to find Melanie busy in front of an elaborate cake. I stood awkwardly by the door.