CHAPTER 16: Shane
I was standing in the backyard with Uncle Seth, holding a hand over my eyes to shield it from the scorching midday sun as he pointed out all the bad spots on the roof. Uncle Seth was an old hand at fixing things. Me, I knew a hundred ways to kill a man with my bare hands, but I’d never driven a nail or turned a screw more than a couple of times. I’d been following him around for the better part of an hour, making a mental list in my head as he pointed out things that needed to be repaired—and estimating the cost— before putting the house on the market.
“That roof must be forty or fifty years old,” he said, pointing out an array of dark spots that ran across the entire back of the house. “That’s where the leaks inside are coming from. That’ll need replacing. Shingles, decking…”
“What’s that gonna cost?” I asked with a heavy sigh. According to Uncle Seth’s estimate—or what he called his “best guestimate”—the bill was already approaching five-grand. I had ten-grand on the credit card in my wallet and most of my SEAL pay in a savings account, which I preferred not to tap. Anything over ten-grand might have to just come off the sales price, which I didn’t expect to be that much. If I could net enough to pay for the repairs and my trip I’d be a happy SEAL.
“New roof, probably a thousand for the shingles. You and me can do the work. Probably take a day or two.”
“I’m not sure how long I can stay and I don’t want to pull you away from the farm for that long,” I said. “How much do you figure the cost of a roofer doing it?”
He closed one eye to squint at the roof, as if he were counting shingles and squares and doing the math in his head. “You’re probably looking at three to four-grand.”
“Shit,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I started tallying it up in my head. “Okay. So, four-grand to have a roofer do the roof, three-grand for painting inside and out, two-grand to spruce up the inside. Anything else?”
“That’s about it,” he said. “You want me to call a roofer and a painter for you? I know some Mexican boys that’ll do you a good job at a reasonable rate, off the books for cash, of course.”
“Sure, get them out tomorrow if possible. I can get a cash advance off my credit card. I’d like to have it wrapped up and on the market by the weekend.”
He took off his cowboy hat, tugged the kerchief from the bib of his overalls, and mopped the sweat off his face. His round cheeks were red as a sugar beet. He looked a little like a boil about to pop. He set the hat on his head and pulled the brim low over his eyes to block out the sun.
“Alright, then. I’ll make some calls on the way home and get them lined up,” he said, stepping into the shade of the only tree in the scruffy backyard. “I can get everything you need for the inside and be back in the morning to help you knock that out.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. I joined him in the shade as I tugged the sweaty t-shirt over my head and mopped my face with it. I caught him looking at me sideways. He was eyeing my tattoos. “What?”
He smiled and nodded at the black tribal designs covering my upper arms, shoulders and back. “Your daddy would have hated those tattoos.”
“Why do you think I got them?” I asked.
He grinned and swiped the kerchief under his nose. “Was that Doc Bates I saw pulling away when I drove up?” When I didn’t say anything, he bumped me with his elbow and chuckled. “Damned if you don’t move quick.”
“We’re just friends,” I said, trying to shrug it off, even though I caught myself smiling at the thought of her. “She’s gonna help me find mama’s dog a home.”
“Good to have friends,” he said as he tucked away the kerchief and adjusted his hat low over his eyes. “Especially friends that look like that.”
“True.”
He smiled again and slapped me on the back. “Okay, well, reckon I’ll see you in the morning.”
I watched him go with mixed emotions. I liked Uncle Seth as much as I’d ever liked anyone. I couldn’t say that I loved him because I really didn’t know him anymore. He was my mother’s brother and I hadn’t seen him in years. He was a good guy and he was helping me out and being well-compensated for his trouble. I’d leave it at that.
Besides, love was not an emotion I kept ready in my repertoire.
I hadn’t felt anything even close to love in a very long time.
Until Annabel appeared at my door…
* * *
Juju showed up at the house about half an hour after Uncle Seth left, wearing a big smile and a short skirt and a tight blouse that left very little to the imagination. Her boobs were like big melons packed into a tight bra, weighing heavy on her chest. The blouse was open at the neck, offering a fine view of her round cleavage and the freckles that dotted the top of her chest. I had completely forgotten that she was coming by. When I answered the door, I wasn’t wearing a shirt and my skin was sweaty from working in the backyard.
“Well, you didn’t have to get dressed up for me,” she said, opening the storm door and coming inside with her perfectly-manicured eyebrows raised. She ran the tip of her finger down my chest and giggled as it came away covered in sweat.
“Uh, yeah, I was working out back,” I said. I was suddenly as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers. I peered through the storm door at the street, praying that Annabel was nowhere in sight. I closed the door and turned to find Juju standing in the living room with a long fingernail tapping her chin.
“Wow, it’s kind of…”
“Old and worn out?” I asked, coming to stand next to her as she looked around the room.
“That’s a good way to put it,” she said. “Are you planning on fixing it up or selling it as is?”
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I’m getting a new roof put on tomorrow. Fresh coat of paint inside and out. Figured I’d replace the worn-out carpet in here and in the bedrooms. Maybe update the kitchen a little.”
She nodded as I reeled off the list, then gave me a thoughtful frown and slowly shook her head. “I wouldn’t spend a lot.”
“No?”
“Honestly, and I hate to tell you this, sweetie, but houses this size in this neighborhood don’t fetch a very high price even after they’ve been updated.” She walked into the kitchen with me at her heels. She stood in the center of the room with her arms folded over her chest and her nose wrinkled, like the place had a bad spell, which I guessed it did. “This is what we call a low-end starter home. Even the lots aren’t worth much anymore. Sell it as is and you might get thirty-thousand. Fixed up you might get close to sixty.”
I shrugged. “It’s paid for, so that’s fine,” I said. “I was gonna sink eight or nine-grand into it and call it a day.”
“Oh, well then you’ll be fine,” she said, relieved with the smile returning. “Most folks have an attachment to the home they grew up in. They think it should sell for way more than it’s worth.”
“I have no attachment to this place,” I said. “I just want to get it sold and be done with it.”
“Well, I can certainly help you do that,” she said. The leather satchel she’d brought in was on the table. She opened it up and took out a notebook. “Why don’t you show me around and tell me what’s being fixed and what’s not, then I can look at comps in the area and give you a better idea of what you can expect.”
“Okay, uh, you wanna start outside?”
“No,” she said, walking slowly to the door that led to the hallway. She glanced back at me and made a face I recognized from some time in the past. “Let’s start in the bedroom.”