24
Armed with half a dozen decadent handheld shower massagers, Rick returned a couple hours later to find a moving van blocking the driveway, several roomfuls of ratty furniture stacked by the garage for the Salvation Army to take, and four burly guys with terminal butt-crack dragging his own furniture into the house, none too carefully. Carmen, hands on her hips, seemed to be in her element as she ordered them around.
“Need help?” he asked her.
“No, I’m fine,” She lowered her voice. “Morons, they’re morons. They bang up everything.”
“That’s what they’re paid to do,” he said lightly. He didn’t want to think about it.
Rolling her eyes, she looked heavenward. “They did the three bedrooms first. Cody’s in his room putting away his things.”
“So my bed’s up there?”
“Yeah, but I think they broke it. It’s in a bunch of pieces.”
“It’s supposed to be,” he said, then realized she was teasing him again. “If you don’t need me, I’m going to go put it together.”
“You should make them do it.”
He shook his head. “Like you said, morons. It only takes a few minutes if you know what you’re doing.” He paused. “Oh, Christ, the cat. I left the cat up there.”
“I know, don’t worry. I put him in my house.”
“You’re an angel.”
“I know,” she said, and blessed him with a smile.
“Call me if you need me.”
“Sure, Ricky.”
Upstairs, he found Cody having a great time unpacking and generally making a mess. Watching him, Rick thought that it would be a good idea to nail the closet panel shut right away, not only to keep Quint out, but because if Cody discovered it and went inside, he could be bitten by a rat. Since he didn’t know about the passages, he was unlikely to find it, but Rick decided he’d get to it, along with all the other panels in the house, within the next few days. The old beds and dressers were gone, replaced by his son’s roomful of high-impact white furniture, and topped off by his race-car bed. The room looked a million times better.
He left the boy shoving Legos in one of the drawers beneath the closet and walked down the hall to his room.
“What a relief,” he said, looking in. Despite the stacks of packing boxes, the master suite looked bigger than ever with his smooth bleached-oak furniture in place of the heavy, dark stuff. He set to work on the bed and, an hour later, had the mattress filling with the help of a garden hose he’d borrowed from the toolshed. Meanwhile, Rick attached a shower head, assured Carmen he was almost done using up all the hot water, and put away some of his clothes.
Twenty minutes later, the bed was filled. He coiled the hoses and headed downstairs, thinking that since he couldn’t test the shower massage until the water heater refilled, he’d kill an hour by starting work on the frame for his metal sculpture. That was, if Carmen didn’t need him.
A moment later, as Carmen shooed him out the front door, Shelly returned to announce she’d gotten a job at Nigel’s Beauty Supply and that she could get makeup really cheap. Her sullenness had evaporated completely, and when she whirled and kissed him on the cheek, he was filled with desire to buy her a car, cable, a phone, and whatever else she wanted. He refrained from saying so, and as he walked to the workshop, he contented himself by hoping that having a job would teach her some respect—if not for him, then for his wallet.