Title: A Day in the Life of David King
Author: Cannibaljelloyahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 to be on the safe side.
Authors notes:
GAH! 10,756 words!? 24 pages with a 10 point font?? When will the madness end!?! :O!
I've formally given up saying that the length of these chapters couldn't possibly get any bigger, because I still, somehow manage to keep writing more and more. ;
I'm still terrified to see how long this next chapter will be...I already know what I'm going to do and I can only hope I won't write as much as this again.
Hmm...I bet my deadline XD! I could have posted this sooner, but the ending was being such a pain in my arsch that I just couldn't rush it. That's why I'm certain that this chapter is the worst yet. I definitely don't like it, because it just doesn't live up to the rest.
Anyways....I got the idea from my own school. Brandon is a real person. In fact, he's my sophomore buddy in my Biology class, whom I see every day. I think I nailed his personality perfectly XD.
And yes, I got his permission to involve him as a character. Despite the fact that he hasn't read the fic for himself, he's still heard all about it and insists that he's my #1 fan. What a weirdo.
Hmm....
There will be two more chapters, I think. Remember, the title is a DAY in the life, not a week ;P!
Expect some more authors notes in the next few days. I haven't gotten around to replying to replies (o0;) which I love to do...I'll get to it soon enough!
===
It was going to be a interesting day.
Though I doubt it could get any more interesting, David promised himself. He could only hope. After all that had happened that day - including the date he had escaped from just minutes ago - he couldn't imagine anything as far-fetched to top the charts above all. Hell, things rarely got interesting at work. That's where David was now - pulling up his truck in front of the towns finest - hah - plumbing business. It was quite obvious to any passerby that David worked there, since he had traded in his stylish clothes for something more casually worn - his torn up blue jeans, white shirt, and coveralls.
I never thought I'd say this, but I've never been happier to be back, was David's first thought as he walked up to the building, the large lettering of Raccoon Plumbing Co. welcoming him back to his somewhat normal life. No more dates, no more drunken cops, no more anything but me and my job, David told himself. After all that had happened, he was just glad to be back in his daily routine.
...Until he was greeted by Rick Walker at the door, wearing a shark-like grin that ran shivers up and down David's spine. Turn back while you can Dave! Just spin those heels 180 degrees and sprint towards the truck as fast as your legs can take you, his inner voice urged in alarm. Something was definitely fishy, and although David was afraid to ask, he'd know soon enough…
He was right to have worried.
"You're kidding!"
Rick laughed, taking a seat at his front desk. He handed David a bunch of papers. "No Dave, I'm perfectly serious."
It only took a short downward glance before the printed words Raccoon High shocked David. "Please tell me you're joking," he pleaded, now knowing that Rick was honest.
"Nope, sorry. Now get to work."
It's time for desperate measures, and if it takes begging, then I will beg. On my knees. "Oh come ON, can't you torture someone else?"
"But you're my favorite." Rick winked.
"Then why are you trying to kill me!?"
"Oh one little sophomore won't harm ya. Stop over-reacting, Mr. Pessimist."
"Over-reacting? Pfft!"
Rick just smiled, obviously amused at David's dishevelment.
"Like I said, it's just a sophomore."
David howled, shaking the papers in his gloved hand. He was putting all his effort towards not massacring the papers as a trail of destruction on the floor. "It's not 'just a sophomore'! It's an apprentice! To make things worse, it's a sophomore apprentice! Argh!"
"Yup."
"Why me?"
"Quit whining. The sooner ya get to work with the kid, the sooner you can kick his ass out."
David sighed, skimming the papers. "How long do I have?"
"The kid needs two hours to pass the high school requirements."
"Two hours of hell," David groaned.
"It can't be that bad, Dave," Rick tried to reason.
David wasn't amused. "Bite me."
Leaving Rick behind, David walked to the workers lounge where he would find a spare pair of coveralls and gloves for the kid. He decided he would be fine with lending the boy his own tool belt, plainly because he was too lazy to dig out a spare set.
As soon as he returned to the front area with the coveralls thrown over one shoulder, gloves hanging in hand, David could sense Rick had more to say. Enlighten me, you traitor!
"Dave?"
"What?" he snapped, turning to Rick to find him holding out a small note pas. The pages were blank, causing David to raise a questioning eyebrow at his co-worker. He was afraid to ask, but did any ways. "What's this?"
"The high school requires that you keep record of Brandon's attitude and work abilities. You gotta write a recommendation. Doesn't that sound fun?"
"Pack it in you bastard, I'm miserable," the plumber hissed, turning around once more to stomp towards the door, making as much racket as possible to display his displeasure.
Rick cackled, waving one large hand. "Have fun Dave."
The Raccoon Plumbing Co.'s front door slammed shut.
===
David had never been more afraid to knock on a residential door. It had been a long truck ride of cursing, swearing, and formation of revengeful plots. But now he was on enemy territory and nothing could save him now. Get it over with already!
Seeing no door bell, David raised his hand to knock, recoiling his clenched fist as the door swung open to reveal a grinning female face.
Oh my god, Please tell me it's not another Sheila Armstrong, David pleaded to whatever higher power was listening. The face was nearly the same - make-up painted and grinning like a lovesick madwoman setting her eyes on the only man remaining alive. But it seemed she had different ideas then David presumed.
"Hiya mister, are you here for my boy?" she rasped with cancer-swollen lungs. Instead of waiting for David's answer, she turned her head towards the inside of the house and made it known that her voice was as boisterous as her appearance. "Brandon!" she shrilled, then added in a sing-song voice. "You're friend is heeeeeeerrrre!"
Despite the ring of his eardrums, David could still hear himself laugh. 'Friend?' Hah…
The woman looked back at him, giving him a wink. David thought he'd be sick. "You're pretty cute for a plumber! I hope my son grows up to be just like you! Just look at those biceps, whoo!"
David was confused, since he always kept his sleeved rolled up only to expose his elbows. Then again, he didn't doubt that the woman was one card short of a full house. Just keep three steps between you and her, and if the worst comes down, there always your trusty pocket knife in your utility belt…
Of course he wasn't being serious. He was just unsure how to act around such a flamboyant, perky middle-aged woman. He just let her continue her random chatter, listening with half an ear, confused by what little he managed to catch.
"You look like a fella who can take care of himself. That's good! If my son gives you any lip - and I mean any - I want you to smack those big chops of his! You know how teenage boys are! That boy needs some discipline. Ya see, his awful father aint here to give him some fatherly attention. That good for nothin' bastard, leavin' us to run off with some blonde whorin' little -"
"Mom!" A voice yelled from further inside the house, followed by the tremendous thundering thumps of a teenager's clumsy oversized feet, which hurried towards the door. "Stop bothering the plumber!"
David took his time to study the boy as he clashed with his mother in a verbal war. Random lines struck through David's haze of contemplation, such as "Don't use that tone with me mister!" and "You do this every single time mother!"
By Brandon's deep natural tan and jet black hair which stood in tall spikes, David guessed that the boy was of Hawaiian decent. As if his complexion wasn't enough, he also had the facial structure. David guessed he was about 5'8", give or take, and as skinny as a stick. He wore a shapeless white shirt with - wouldn't ya know it - a Hawaiian design. A pair of capris was anchored to his thin waist by a brown leather belt. To top it all off, Brandon sported a new and spotless pair of tennis shoes.
David groaned inwardly. This boy's too clean to be a plumber…
As David brought himself back to the real world, he noticed that he and Brandon stood alone outside the front door. Apparently his mother had retreated after the fierce battle was lost.
"So," Brandon started, looking David up and down skeptically. "You're a plumber?"
"..."
"…Oookay." The 16-year old stepped forward to introduce himself, extending a hand. "Name's Brandon."
David stared at the unscarred, unmarked hand. Brandon's fingers and palm were smooth, uncalloused of crackes - certainly not a plumbers hand. At least not yet. David thought of his own paws, unable to remember when his looked that young…
Brandon leaned forward, nearly touching nose tip to nose tip with David, causing the older man to snap back to attention and lean away protectively. He stared futilely at the young man. Brandon's eyes were as rich as black coffee, with the reflection of light as the creamer which glowed white with amusement. Brandon was staring expectantly at David.
"Do you have a name?"
"…"
"Do you know how introductions work?"
"..."
"Don't you talk?"
David glanced away, staring desperately at the truck. Just get me out of here already!
"Helllooo-o-o-o? Do you speak English?"
"..."
Irritated, the young man raised one stiff fingers to start poking David in the arm. David thought to himself, I can plan this game forever, and saw the challenge in Brandon's eyes.
Poke. Poke. Poke.
David felt his body temperature begin to rise
Poke. Poke. Poke.
His arm became tender.
Poke. Poke. Poke.
That's it!
"STOP!" he snapped, slapping Brandon's hand away.
"Ah HAH! So you do talk!" Brandon laughed victoriously. "Let's try this again! Hi, I'm Brandon and you must be…?"
"…"
"That's your cue to tell me your name."
"David," the plumber grunted, rolling his eyes at the others playfulness.
Brandon clapped his hands, mimicking a delighted toddler. "Great! We've made some progress! I've
managed to leach a name out of the man of few words!"
David glared. "You ready to go?"
Always enthusiastic, Brandon beamed and began to bounce towards the truck, yelling "Of course!" over his shoulder. As Brandon reached the truck, he turned to face the house, and - apparently inheriting his mothers strong voice - yelled a good-bye to his mother. David couldn't help but grimace as he opened the drivers side door.
Brandon climbed in the other seat, yanking the door so hard it sounded as if it would break from its metal hinges. Uncaring, he then hopped in the car, bouncing on the seat cushion like a bundle of rampant energy. He nearly catapulting his light body upwards until he could have hit his head on the car roof.
"Don't get a concussion on me," David warned, seeing Brandon give him a thumbs-up and a goofy grin, showing off his pearly whites against his caramel skin. Well, perhaps a concussion would do me some good. If he knocked himself out, I wouldn't complain - at least not now. I will when I get back to work. I am so going to kill Rick for this!
"So, what's our mission, Dave?" Brandon asked, seeming inherently chirpy. His gung-ho attitude pulled David's attention off of Rick, if only for the moment. It made David fear for his own life, instead of worrying over his coworkers.
Don't kill the plumber, the older man thought. "We got a call from Applegate, in South West Raccoon. Someone's got a sink leak, I guess."
Brandon nodded, resting a hand against his chin. He lowered his eyelids slightly, while his eyebrows went up, mimicking thought. "Sounds simple enough!"
"…Right."
Brandon was excited. "What do you want me to do, Dave?"
"You do whatever I tell you to do," the professional plumber grumbled.
Always enthusiastic and ready to go, Brandon grinned. "Oky doky! Is there anything I can do to prepare myself? You got any words of wisdom for your beloved student?"
Beloved wasn't exactly the word of choice David would have used in this situation. To elucidate this, David warned, "Just stay the hell out of my way."
Unchafed hands flew up in surrender. "Okay okay, Geez, you don't have to get so hostile!"
There was the promise of a peaceful car ride, as Brandon seemed intent on staring at each passing tree and mailbox. David wouldn't dare complain…at least until said promise was broken by the blaring of the truck radio. Deep pounding techno beats filled the truck interior, pulsing through the metal frame. David nearly jumped from his seat at the abrupt burst of noise. Ponytail flipping across his shoulder, David's head snapped to the side to see Brandon's fingers manipulating the control panel.
"Sorry Dave," Brandon apologized. "I just couldn't stand the quiet. You don't mind, do you?"
Though he did, David answered with a grunt and let Brandon interpret it for himself. I'll live, David reassured himself. And if I don't…the kid's goin' down with me.
As they entered the neighborhood, David was sure the truck could be heard from blocks away. By the areas appearance, David knew he hadn't been through the neighborhood before, though he had heard of it. The crime rate there was quite high and was often featured on the local news. But unlike on the television, the street wasn't packed with men in uniform, there were no flashing of red and blue on white and black, nor were there gunshots. In fact, there was no sound at all when the trucks ignition was cut. Not that I care if it's peaceful. It'd be just my luck to have ran into Officer Ryman if some big bust went down.
Brandon was visibly unnerved by the quiet. He opened and slammed his door louder than necessary. "It's too quiet," he complained.
"Quit your bitchin'," David grumbled, stepping from the truck. He made certain it was locked - though he sincerely doubted it would be more than a minor distraction to a car jacker of any skill - I should know with my past - before he circled around to the back of the truck. Reaching inside, David pulled out a spare pair of coveralls.
"Put this on," David ordered, tossing it to the younger man. Brandon just managed to catch the fluttering of cloth.
"Woah man, this aint baseball! Watch your pitch, will ya?" One mock glare later and Brandon was staring down at the battered material cradled in his tanned arms. "How sexy!" he laughed.
Rolling his eyes, David revealed the remainder of the outfit, having pulled his trusty utility belt from the back of the truck. He smirked wickedly at the heavy tools which clanged against each other inside the worn leather, then at Brandon who stared back with eyes as wide as a doe.
"Don't you dare…!" the Hawaiian squeaked.
"Who's going to stop me?" David challenged.
Brandon stuttered, unable to grasp a witty comeback.
"That's what I thought," the older man said, approaching the young man who backed up defensively. With a solid push, David forced the tool belt into the others arms, pushing it against Brandon's flat chest. "Put it on," David ordered.
Nodding, Brandon obeyed. He stepped into the baggy suit, and as he began to zip up the front, David smiled to himself as the other began to struggle with the belt buckle. "Help?" Brandon pleaded.
David shook his head. "You're a big boy. Do it yourself."
Kinda reminds me of when I was his age, when I got my first real job. But I wasn't that annoying. Or short. And I dressed better.
Seeming not to mind, Brandon continued to follow David like a loyal puppy as the ponytailed plumber began to walk to the apartment complex's' front door. Brandon was finally clothed and ready to go after his long battle with the troublesome buckle. But something had changed in the boys flamboyant demeanor.
Brandon looked at David, face hard with seriousness. It made David feel uneasy, even more so when Brandon spoke. "David," he said. "Can I ask you a question?"
Is he fuckin' with me? David thought, studying the shorter man. Deciding it was better to find out later, he shrugged. "Sure."
"David…" There was a tense pause, "…do you feel phat and sassy?"
The question shattered David's concentration. He must have looked comically confused as he managed to stutter, "Who you callin' fat?"
Brandon laughed gleefully, holding up his hands as if to defend himself from an impending attack. "Phat, as in P-H-A-T."
That's….a pretty damn weird question.
"Uhh…no?"
Brandon pouted his full lips as if he'd expected David to play along. "Well, I think you're phat and sassy."
Unsure how to react, David uttered a simple "oookay," and opened the front glass door.
A plaque mounted on the wall ensured the two men that the building was 13648 SW Applegate Apartments - the proper destination. Quickly, the two males found themselves tapping their feet whilst waiting for an elevator. At least this one works, David tried to reason. All I need is to be forced to walk up ten flights of stairs with chirpy boy here. Neither of us would ever make it to the client, 'cause we'd both have strangled each other before the half-way mark.
Hell, David wouldn't ignore the fact that he would like to have strangled the kid right then and there, because of his compulsive bright smiling and constant aura of movement. Moments later, David had to restrain himself from making his thoughts reality when Brandon began to chatter.
"Can I push the buttons?" the teenager begged, before he began chanting, "Can I? Can I? Can I?"
David hit the upwards-pointing arrow. "No."
"Awww! But Dadddd!" Brandon whined, voice high with restrained laughter.
"Don't you dare call me that!" David snapped. "Besides, I'm not even old enough to be your father."
Brandon frowned, then began to bounce the heels of his feet, making David wonder how little Marie -who was so much younger than the sophomore - could act so much more mature.
Brandon wouldn't be deterred by David's rashness. Once inside the elevator, Brandon went on persistently. "What floor?"
"Tenth, I think…" David muttered, hands digging into his pockets to find the paper of details.
Meanwhile, Brandon hopped to the door panel. He raised one pointed finger to punch the button. "Aiight!" he whooped in triumph. But David, never beaten, had other plans. As soon as the metal doors closed shut, David hit the first floor button. The doors slid open again.
"What in the hell are you doin'?" Brandon cried.
"Ruining your fun," David answered. Then he punched the tenth floor button. "I win."
Brandon frowned. For a moment David expected the testosterone-ridden teenager would be confident enough to challenge his superior. Instead, Brandon began hopping from one foot to the other while the elevator began to rise. He was about as nervous and twitching as a rabbit, making David uneasy in the process. To make matters worse and more torturous for the ponytailed plumber, Brandon began to sing. Although David had never seen it himself, he was sure the tune was form Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.
Someone please kill me.
No, the elevator didn't plummet David to his awaiting death. Instead, it arrived at its floor with a cheery ping! that tore David away from his self-loathing misery for a moment. Before the door was fully opened, David had pushed himself free, eager to escape the small space where he had been trapped with the hyper-active teen. Said teen still continued to stay close, with his big feet thumping in sync with David's. David, looking down to study the address again, could see the tennis shoes invading his peripheral vision. Each step seemed to echo through the long hallways - a constant reminder of what David was forced to endure. Finally coming across room 564, those footsteps stopped.
"Here we are," David muttered, more to himself than to Brandon, who watched as David folded the paper and tucked it away in his breast pocket.
He wasn't surprised when Brandon asked, "Can I at least knock? Or is there some sort of top secret plumbers code way of doin' it?"
David considered giving some half-ass remark, but let it pass. "If it's too difficult for you, then speak up. I don't have all day."
Face hardening in defiance, Brandon raised a fist and pounded it against the wood. Seconds later, the door jerked open to reveal an English man. The first detail that caught David's attention was the intensity of the man's eyes, which twinkled with a self-assuredly with underlying intelligence. Both eyes sat within a calm, mature face which could have passed for movie star handsome.
Perhaps the mans clothes helped support the idea. Reminding David of a university professor, the wore a tailored ash gray blazer with matching pants. Below this he wore a burgundy vest above a cream collared dress shirt. I hope that isn't his idea of casual wear, David thought.
"Hello" the man said, extending a firm hand. "My name is George. I take it you're the plumbers?"
Brandon eagerly shook George's hand. Despite David passing the offer out of hygienic courtesy - he was wearing his gloves, after all - David could tell by the rigid motion that George gave a real mans handshake. George held his wrist in perfect posture, with his tendons tightening with the up and down motion. George was a gentleman - quite the opposite from grunts like himself.
David simply nodded in acknowledgment, allowing Brandon to make the introduction for them which Brandon was more than happy to do.
"Yup, we're two trusty plumbers! I'm Harry Clogg, and this my assistant Davey!"
Mentally, David gaped at that, appearing stoic as usual to the rest. Inside, he was mentally slack-jawed. Assistant? Oh he's gonna get it.
"Harry and Davey, hmm…" George stepped back from the door, waving a hand towards the apartments interior. "Come in boys, I got just the job for you."
The two plumbers were lead to a very expensive and very classy kitchen. With its expensive marble countertops and stainless steel appliances, David knew the man - George - undoubtedly had money.
"My sink has begun to leak. It doesn't seem to be serious - yet. Then again, I'm not much of a handyman myself, if it wasn't already obvious enough." George tugged at the hem of his perfectly pressed blazer. "I know the job will be simple, but I think it's better fixed in the early stages rather than waiting."
"Easy is good," Brandon smiled, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He definitely wouldn't deny a simple fix job. On the other hand, David was already planning a course of action. He treated ever problem as if it were serious, and because of his years of experience, he knew thinking in such a way paid off. Did Brandon, supposedly the mastermind between the two, know what to do? David was doubtful.
A gasp sounded from the other side of the grand apartment. All three men turned to see a woman standing in the kitchen entrance, covered only in a damp white silk robe. It was short and exposed her long, smooth, and attractive legs. There wasn't much else to hide from the imagination, except her hair. Since it appeared she had just stepped from the shower, her hair was in a towel that was bundled up on the top of her head.
"Glad to see the showers working," Brandon breathed at David's side, squeaking slightly as David stepped on top of and rested his full weight on his foot.
"Oh George!" the woman cried, wrapping her arms around her voluptuous chest which had been greatly exposed with the V-neck cut silk. "Why didn't you tell me company was over?"
"These are the plumbers, Kitty." George said simply.
There weren't many things that bothered David, yet this did. You've got to be kidding me! Kitty? What a name…David expected that the same thought was swirling in Brandon's own mind, yet the boy didn't speak up. Yet.
"Plumbers? Why do we need plumbers, George? Why don't you ever tell me anything anymore?" Kitty cried, tapping her bare foot on the floor.
George frowned. "Perhaps you just forgot," he told Kitty. Then to David and Brandon, he said, "Will you excuse me for a moment?"
Both plumbers nodded, watching as George stepped up to the beautiful woman and led her into another room. When both disappeared from earshot,David leant close to Brandon and began speaking quietly.
"No tasteless pussy jokes, you hear me?" David warned. He saw the knowing grin work its way across Brandon's lips.
The young man snapped his fingers. "Darn. How'd you know?"
"I was a teenager once, myself."
The other laughed. "Unbelievable!" Brandon undoubtedly had a sense of humor.
Speaking of…
"What in the hell were you thinking? Davey? Don't you dare call me that! And Harry Clogg? Pfft." David gave Brandon a thumbs down with one suede-gloved hand. "Lame."
"Hehe, I thought it was funny. Don't think he understood it, though."
"And who's the boss here? Did I hear you say that you were in charge?" David placed a hand on his hip. "In your dreams, little boy. Don't forget that."
Brandon gave a goofy grin. "Hey, you never know! I might have a natural knack for this line of work, and before you even know it, you'll be callin' me Sir. Or Master. Hey, if you don't want me to call you Davey," Brandon saw David grimace at the mention of the name. "then what should I call you - Boss?"
"No."
"Then can I call you Sir?"
David shook his head. "No damn't. I have a name for a reason."
"Okay sir -"
"- David -" he corrected.
"David, sir!" Brandon gave a mock salute, before he broke down laughing. David slapped his hand from his brow, just as the two home owners voices approached.
"Now she is phat and sassy," Brandon breathed. "Buns of steel, definitely!"
David half-heartedly elbowed him in the side, causing Brandon to double over dramatically. "Behave," David growled.
"I got two words for you, Dave: Anger Management."
"And I got two words for you," David retorted. "Calm down! Stop thinking with your hormones." Though he meant it, David understood why Brandon mind had taken the fast lane towards the gutter. Kitty, despite her tacky name, was quite tasteful otherwise.
Kitty stepped into the room, closely followed by George. She had brushed her long hair which fell down her shoulders and back. It hung to her waist, but David's eyes fell even further. Buns of steel is right. Damn, what an ass. If David had Brandon in mind, the meaning would have been quite the opposite, but in a different context…
God, something is seriously screwed up today. I shouldn't be striking it this lucky - with all these fine female clients. Lucifer, if you're really there, what in the hell is it that you want from me? It's gotta be somethin' serious if you keep teasin' me like this.
Meanwhile, the others had been bickering.
"…Oh George, if only you had tried to fix it yourself!"
"I'm no plumber!" That was George speaking. "…And have you forgotten your manners? Introduce yourself!"
The woman stepped forward, offering a French-manicured hand which Brandon shook eagerly. "I am Victoria, but George insists on calling me Kitty. Ugh. And you may be…?"
David was relieved momentarily, until he was reminded of his own placed nickname. "That is Harry," George patted Brandon on the shoulder. "That quiet man is Davey."
Victoria nodded, then smiled at David as she eyed his ponytail with interest. God, is it so unusual for a guy to have long hair? I swear, sometimes people act as if they've never seen it before.
George walked over to the sink. "Anyway, the leak is behind this cupboard." The three men moved to kneel before it, opening the doors to reveal the hidden pipes.
At first glance, David knew that the apartment must have been recently remodeled. The pipes looked aged, compared to the rest of the home. Did Brandon notice this? David decided to put Brandon in the spotlight.
"What does this look like to you, Harry?"
Brandon grinned, pleased that David played along with his scheme. "Aint it obvious? It's a leak! You heard the man."
"So what's the plan, Boss?" David put emphasis on that one four lettered word, which Brandon's ears picked up. He gave David a crooked glance.
"We plug it up."
By his hesitation, David knew he had Brandon backed into a corner. It was a pity George didn't have the slightest idea of what was happening. Time to show 'em how a real professional works. And if that means putting Brandon's foot in his own mouth, the so be it.
"I have to disagree with you Harry." Already, David could see that Brandon was preparing himself for the attack. "Sure, plugging the leak would be a temporary solution to our clients problem." David turned his eyes towards George, directing his speech at the man. "But as you mentioned before, you'd like to bring a conclusion to the problem before it worsens. It looks to me as though there is a probability that the pipe leak could become more severe if you don't correct the problem soon. "
David raised one gloved finger to point as he spoke. "See these rusted sections of the pipe? They are showing signs of forming corrosion. To place it in better words, the metal had become to deteriorate due to either oxidation or chemical contact. The pipe is susceptible to severe cracking or impairment, which may bring forth further leakage problems. This would not only tarnish the remainders of your plumbing system, but the water you drink and any surface the water could damaged."
Behind them, Victoria gasped breathily, "Is it that serious?"
David looked at her. "Not yet, but it will reach that level in - oh, I'd give it a month or two, give or take."
Victoria glared at George. "If only you'd done something sooner!"
"Damn't, Victoria, I may be a surgeon, but I couldn't fix a leaky pipe if my life depended on it!"
David was about to speak up, to say that it really wouldn't have mattered, but Victoria had her mouth cocked and ready to attack.
"You know why that is, George? It's because you aren't man enough! You never do anything around the house, you miserable bastard!"
At that sudden outburst, the lovely Victoria began to look less appealing, not only to David but to Brandon. David could see the same awe-stricken expression mirrored on Brandon's face. That lady needs one of those bumper stickers on her ass that says 0 to bitch in 0.25 seconds, or however the saying goes. A guy would think twice before he began to drool.
George, unfazed by the woman's bipolarity, continued to defend himself. "I do a lot! You just don't appreciate anything I do for you! Don't you realize if I didn't have a job, you wouldn't be pampered, none the less clothed in all those fancy garments! How dare you tell me I'm lazy if you refuse to get a job for yourself!"
Victoria obviously didn't have a decent comeback. Instead, she drew the dramatic woman card. Back turned to the three men, she stomped down the hallway as loudly as her bare feet could manage on the plush carpet. The door slam was enough to rattle the wine glasses hung upside down over the countertops.
Neither of the plumbers knew what to do, and instead let George lead them into conversation.
"Please excuse Victoria. She exaggerates everything."
Brandon piped up. "Just like a woman, huh? We've all been there. It must be that time of the month, if you know what I mean."
"Must have been 'that time of the month' for the past 5 years." George muttered beneath his breath, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his suit. "Anyway, I'd better hurry off to work. I'll leave it up to you two to decide what needs to be done. I have enough to pay for any pipe repairs - that is, unless my wife doesn't burn my savings out of spite."
It was easy for David to imagine Victoria striking a match over an oil-soaked pile of bills. It's always the beautiful ones who are the worst…
George had more to say. "Feel free to use anything you need while working. Victoria will be staying here, so you can go to her for any of your needs. But…it may be safer to help yourselves. Have fun," George said with a wave as he disappeared from the room. The front door opened and closed, leaving both plumbers standing in the kitchen, not entirely alone. Somewhere, the wife lurked.
David wasn't surprised when Brandon snapped at him. "Were you trying to show me up?"
The older man grinned innocently. "Would I do that?" Then he dramatically raised a hand to his mouth in mock shock. "Oh dear, have I?"
Brandon wasn't amused. "Knock off the sarcasm, Davey."
"Yes Boss."
Both plumbers glared at each other for a drawn out moment before David nodded towards the sink. "You gonna fix that?"
Brandon blinked, then smirked. "No. The Boss never does the work. The Boss tells you to do the work. So step on it!"
"Yeah, and you aint the Boss, so get to work." David began to dig through the tool belt hung from Brandon's slim hips, since it had been loaned away. His knowing hands pulled out a wrench and a pipe measurer, which he handed over to the younger man, along with his gloves.
"What in the hell?" Brandon gaped. "Are you planning to make me do everything?"
"Yup. That's the plan, Bub."
"But why?" the other whined.
"That's how the high school wants it. You do the work, I watch, and record every little mistake you make. Then the high school decides to chew you up. If they spit you out or swallow…well, that's up to them."
"You're such a prick, you know that, Davey?"
"If you keep callin' me that, I will."
Brandon sighed as he pulled on the gloves. He seemed nervous. Hell, I never had to go through this crap to graduate.
"Just do what you learned in class," David prompted, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. He leant against the wall, watching Brandon wiggle beneath the sink on his back.
"So…we're going to replace the pipe, right?" Brandon asked.
"Not we, me. I don't have the supplies right now…We'll just patch things up and I'll have to pick up where we left off tomorrow."
"Okay…I'll still have to take measurements, right?"
"Yup."
Brandon groaned slightly, hands scrabbling for the wrench. David nudged it over with his boot. "Thanks, sweet cheeks," Brandon snickered from inside the cupboard. Then he yelped as David gave him a none-too-gentle kick on the calf.
"Gotta cut off the water supply…" Brandon reminded himself as he reached amongst the pipes. David couldn't see exactly what he was doing from his vantage point, so he scooted closer. "Is this the water supply valve?"
David took a look. "I think so. We'll know soon enough, eh?"
"Hah, yeah, after I get drenched." Brandon tried to turn it with his hands. "Damn, it's stuck."
David poked the wrench into Brandon's gloved hand. "That's what this is for."
"Really?" Brandon gasped sarcastically. "Wow! I'll make sure to aim for you if this ancient thing breaks."
The ponytailed man smirked. "Can't wait. Just…turn it slowly. And no matter what you do, do not loosen the grip."
"Okay. Hey, why do you think that George guy didn't turn the main water supply off?"
Another voice answered for David. "Because he's a worthless bastard who wouldn't dare get his clothes wet."
Brandon pulled himself out of his hole just enough to peer - along with David - at Victoria who appeared, a nightshirt replacing her robe. It was a rose-tint, with only the sleeves being long. The silk ended above the curve of her hips - short enough so her black lace g-string peeked out when she moved. And god damn, are those corset straps I see? Okay, what the fuck is up with this? First I get a date with a slut, now I'm stuck in an apartment with a gorgeous woman walking around in her scanties. Hell, if I didn't know better, I'd think she wanted us to look.
Victoria was staring right back at David as she stole a wine glass from its hanging place. A bottle was pulled from a wine rack - it's dark, fermented smell wafting through the room as the cork was popped. Wine as red as blood was poured into the flute.
"What I need is a real man; a man who isn't afraid to get dirty." One elegant finger traced around the rim of the glass, collecting a droplet that had hung on the rim. Victoria lifted her hand to her mouth, the dampened finger disappearing between her pink lips. "I need someone who can handle a woman and her needs. Don't you agree?"
At that moment, Brandon yelped and water began to spray out from beneath the sink in a miniature geyser. David cursed, surprised at first. But he quickly took charge, forcing himself beneath the sink with Brandon. It was a tight fit. Cold water drenched his face, plastering David's bangs to his face as both men sputtered. Somehow David managed to plug the pipe up with his bare thumb.
"Other way, turn it the other way, you dork! Didn't you hear me? I said to NOT loosen the grip!" David barked.
Brandon cursed. "I heard you, asshole! Get your hair out my mouth!"
Both men bickered until the valve was secured. Brandon and David were dripping as they emerged from beneath the sink to see Victoria with her hand up to her mouth in a giggle-fit. David swept his wet hair from his face as Brandon fished for black hair in his saliva.
"Would you boys like some towels?"
Throat dry, David could only nod. Victoria swirled her drink a couple times before smirking. Then she turned around, and - with an extra sway of her hips - walked away from the kitchen. "Would you care to help a lady?" She asked David over her shoulder.
For a moment, he could only blink. He knew he probably looked ridiculous as he sat haphazardly cross-legged on a kitchen floor with his damp hair gluing itself to his face. But the male mind cannot deny its instinct - Do whatever the hot woman says - and of course he got up to follow Victoria. Brandon gave him a thumbs up and whispered, "Good luck."
David stopped, staring at the Hawaiian. "Good luck with what? Get your mind out the gutter, pervert."
"Looks to me like you got yourself a looker." Brandon winked.
Dumbfounded, David scratched his eyebrow. "Say what?"
"Duuude! She is SO checkin' you out!"
David shrugged. "…That's nice."
Brandon looked as if he wanted to slap David silly. "Aw come on man, go after that fine piece of pie!"
"…"
"You like pie, don't you?"
"…It's okay."
Brandon kept interrogating. "You like women, don't you?"
David nodded.
"So what's wrong with you? I mean, so what if she has a guy -"
"- God knows that won't stop em…" David remembered aloud.
"Exactly! Do you think it's really gonna work out? You saw 'em, goin' at each other's throats!"
"- Which doesn't mean I'm letting her sink her fangs into mine. You think I wanna deal with her crap? Hell no. Now shut up and get to work while I get us some towels."
David found himself wandering down a hallway decorated with classy paintings hung scattered across each wall. It wasn't difficult to find Victoria, who had began to hum a happy tune. She emerged from an open room at the end of the hall, smiling at David when she set eyes on him. She skipped over towards him.
This woman is a bipolar case, David thought, and decided that he wouldn't complain. As long as she didn't treat him like George, David was happy. But damn, does she walk around clothed like this all the time? If I was George, I'd do anything to keep her content - to keep her walkin' around the home half-naked. That should be enough to keep any man happy. David was surprised to see that Victoria had put on another item of clothing. He definitely wasn't disappointed to see that she now wore a black pair of shiny stilettos.
Victoria smiled coyly as she leaned against the door frame. One heeled foot rolled from side to side leisurely, standing on toe-tip as she drank her wine. David tried his best to act uninterested, not only mentally, but physically, as well. Down boy…
"Which way are the towels?"
Victoria continued to stare at him flirtatiously. "You're standing right besides them."
David blinked, then reached for the nearest doorknob. With a turn, it easily opened to expose a linen closet with stacks of neatly folded towels. "Oh. Thanks."
"Help yourself," she told David. That was the second time David heard that after entering the apartment. Yeah, but George didn't say you could help yourself to his wife. Take a towel and run before it's too late. David took his own advice. Slightly shaking hands grasped three of the plush pink towels. Freshly washed, they smelled of a floral powder. They were quite big - more than enough to soak up a puddle or two.
Still, Victoria told David, "If you need a couple more, I have some in my personal bathroom that you could use. You can come get them, if you'd like."
What in the heck is she talkin' about? There must be a dozen more towels right here and - …oh.
"Uhh, these will be enough." David muttered. Then he smiled - don't wanna seem like an ungrateful bastard- - hoping the small display of thankfulness would cloud his eagerness to retreat back to safe territory, where there wasn't a sex starved wife. Scary, I'd rather be with Brandon.
After the short amount of time it took David to close the linen closet door, he hurried back to the kitchen - with six towels instead of three. I'd rather not go back there. Don't wanna do something I'd regret.
Brandon looked bored as he inspected his fingernails. His head shot up as he saw David approaching. A small smile stretched across his face as David returned.
"Didn't think you'd be comin' back, Dave," Brandon winked.
A thick rag fell upon Brandon's head, swallowing him like a giant pink jellyfish. David kneeled down to begin mopping up the water with the other towels. "Quiet, you."
Brandon tugged the draped fabric from his head. "Did you have fun?"
"Getting towels?" David asked.
"Getting laid?" Brandon chuckled. This time, a wet towel hit him in the face. He yelped.
The older man glared. "I wasn't that long, idiot."
"Well you certainly took your time, Speedy. What happened?" Brandon couldn't hide his curiosity.
"She practically invited me to her bed. Wait, why in the hell am I telling you this?" David pointed to the sink. "Get back to work."
Brandon sunk beneath the pipes again, muttering something beneath his breath that David didn't quite catch. It was probably better for Brandon's health that he didn't. "I think I'm just going to wrap some of your electricians tape a couple times around the leak area."
"I have putty poxy, if you wanna use it. It sets pretty quickly, though you'll have to mold it into place, then hold it for 5 minutes. That is, if you think you can actually do that."
"Psh, I can. That was just a glitch, before." Brandon said.
"…Sure."
"Just hand me that god damn putty, Davey."
David dug the small plastic tub from his utility belt before he handed it over to Brandon's reaching hand. When Brandon was satisfied, he uncapped the lid and began his work. David had chores of his own to do. He retrieved the small notebook from one of his coverall pockets. It was then that he realized he hadn't ever written a recommendation. Hell, I haven't written anything formal since my own years in high school. This kid could probably do better than me! Oh well, David figured he'd be better off just writing. He could always worry over it later.
Pen scribbling, David became so involved with his work - which he did so often - that he was numb to the world around him. When he came to, he heard Brandon making strange sounds from where he worked. David was bewildered when he recognized the act.
Is he…? That's a hell of a lot of giggling for plumbing.
"Hey, what in the heck are you doin' under there?" David couldn't help but ask. Then he paused for a moment, before saying, "Wait, I don't think I wanna know."
Brandon couldn't stop his tittering as he poked his head out from beneath the sink. He was grinning wildly at David as he held up a putty sculpture. With three spheres placed atop one another, made from the white poxy, it kind of resembled…
…Oh you've got to be kidding me. It's a -
"Lookie!" Brandon chirped gleefully. "It's a snowman!"
Unable to restrain himself, David slapped a hand to his forehead. He groaned, "You're an idiot."
For being an idiot, Brandon sure had good aim - especially considering his position. Lying on his back beneath the sink, Brandon still managed to hit David with a ball of putty. Pock! The ball hit and stuck to the side of David's head. The white was a pungent contrast against David's jet black hair. "Snowball fight!" Brandon shouted, reaching for his remaining ammunition.
Oh my god, war has been declared and that bastard is DEAD MEAT!
"You fucker!" David sputtered, dropping his pen. "You dumb bastard, it's stuck in my hair!"
Brandon's expression of victory slowly faded to all out panic-stricken tangle of eyebrows, eyes, and a mouth. "Ohh shit," he squeaked.
David was nearly concerned to tears as his hands blindly groped for the adhesive glob. "You…!"
Brandon sat up, nearly cracking his head on the pipes, before he shuffled out on hands and knees towards the flailing plumber. "Stop, damn't! You're going to make it worse! Lemme get it…!"
"You'll be getting nothing but my flip knife up you're rectum, you little…!"
Brandon didn't face the wrath of David's scorn. His rectum, although contracted in fear, remained unscathed - maybe because David had been exaggerating out of rage. Or perhaps it was because the knife was currently in the sane hands of Victoria. Brandon was safe. For now.
David sat on a close-lidded toilet, head bent down in despair, as was the rest of his body. His arms hung loosely between his splayed long legs. Brandon, far from David's reach, watched as Victoria stood towering over the defeated plumber. Each snip snip of scissors made Brandon wince in pain - not because they were aimed at him, but because they were a prelude to his demise. Worried about his own fate, David sat whimpering as he, too, heard the snip snipping.
"Oh quit it, you baby," Victoria teased. "I'm only cutting a little bit off."
"It's like a hail storm of hair!" David cried.
"I'm just taking off enough to get the job done," Victoria assured. "Don't worry about it, Dave. When your hair is all brushed out and retied, you won't see a difference. Promise."
Brandon was hopeful - maybe his hyde was safe after all! There was a moment of doubt as David stood up and scrutinized Victoria's work in the mirror.
"See?" Brandon smiled. "Doesn't even show!"
David shot him one of the cruelest, most scornful glares he had ever endured. "But I still know," the older man snapped. Brandon's grin faded. The man was one with his hair. David murmured a thanks to Victoria, then stalked out of the bathroom.
Victoria gave Brandon a look of pity, seeing that the young man was afraid to follow. "I don't blame him for being pissy. He's has very lovely hair."
Brandon shrugged it off, thinking that it figured the woman would side with David. He walked from the bathroom. Eventually Brandon caught up with the brooding man, who had begun scratching wildly in his notes.
"I'm sorry, man. Will you forgive me?"
David's answer didn't faze Brandon. "No."
Brandon frowned - he didn't like being the focus of someone's hate. "Aw come on, you can't hold a grudge forever."
"Watch me." David growled stubbornly. The man couldn't be budged with a crowbar. He continued to tear through the pages with the harsh pressing of the pen tip to paper.
Brandon slinked past David, imagining the many uses of a ball-point as a weapon. He was sure he didn't want to find out - definitely not in a personal way. Yet he still had to ask… "Dave…do you want me to finish poxying the pipe?"
"Hell no." David grunted.
"Well…if it makes you feel any better, I think your hair is very pretty."
Brandon was surprised to see one corner of David's mouth curl unintentionally. The young man was pleased. It didn't look like David was going to kill him, after all.
"Have I ever told you how phat and sassy you are?" Brandon pushed insistently, hoping to make the man laugh.
David rolled his eyes slightly. "Yes, and don't push your luck. Stop kissin' ass and make sure you got everything done with the sink."
"But I love kissing your ass," Brandon teased. Hell, he didn't care how David interpreted that. David simply grunted. Okay, maybe a little bit of his anger still lingered, and Brandon wasn't going to stand for it.
"Time to take desperate measures," the young man whispered to himself. He didn't think David had heard, but apparently he had, because the plumber looked up. Once the site registered in David's mind, his jaw began to drop.
"What are you doing?" he asked, seeing Brandon with a ball of putty in his gloved hand.
I thought that idiot learned his lesson!
Brandon smiled. "I gotta live the full experience of a plumber. So…here goes!"
Brandon slapped his hand down.
===
"Men!" Victoria groaned. "Don't you ever learn?"
Brandon smiled, attempting to look up into her face. "Nope," he said simply.
Lacquered fingered hands pushed his head back into its previous position. "Don't move, or it'll come out uneven," the woman warned, as she continued to cut.
"I don't think his entire head is even," David muttered from his side of the room, where he sat leaned against the wall with his broad arms crossed against his chest. I might not be the one beneath the scissors, but I'm still self conscious.
"Hey!" Brandon said, trying to sound mad. He failed miserably and began to laugh afterwards. "At least we're even now."
"…" David watched silver flash and dark hair fall. He may have seemed stoic but on the inside he was smiling. That little pest wormed a soft spot in me, David admitted - but only to himself. Brandon still reminded David of himself as adolescent - albeit the angel side to his demon. But…that was okay. Yup, that kid's all right…
"You think you can take care of him?" David suddenly asked Victoria.
"She can definitely take care of me, Dave." Brandon winked from his place on the toilet.
Victoria rolled her eyes. Hell, a lot of people do that around Brandon, don't they?
"Yeah, I'll manage," she said, almost sounding convincing.
"If he misbehaves, just use the scissors. But don't cut too much off - he has to have a brain in there somewhere." David joked. If David had turned around a second sooner, he would have missed the middle finger Brandon waved at him. On his way out, David made sure to return the gesture. Then he walked back to the kitchen. When Brandon eventually waddled in to join him, David was writing again.
Brandon gulped nervously, trying to wear a shaky smile. "Geez, I guess you're writing a bunch of dirt about me, huh?"
David was smirking inwardly. "Sure am. Wanna see?"
Brandon snatched the papers from his hands. "Do you really have to ask?" Then he squinted at the paper. "Oh my god, a man with legible hand writing!"
"Just read it."
"…I'm afraid."
David grabbed the papers back. "Then I will, damn't. God, you're a sophomore, not some baby," the older man said, before he began to read, laughing inwardly at Brandon's expression as it melted from nervous to all-out fearful.
Ohh, you're so mean, Dave.
David stood, arms crossed with the papers in hand after he had finished reading. He could barely compress the hard smile he felt inside as Brandon ran a shaky hand through his newly trimmed hair. "Do you really feel that way? I mean…god, 'I've seen soap scum with more coordination than this kid'?" Now Brandon just looked mad. "And do you really think I couldn't tell a toilet brush from a block of margarine?!"
The older man shrugged. "What other quotes did ya like? How about 'Brandon really has no clue what to do. Tell me, was he studying in class, or sleeping?', or maybe 'I wouldn't hire this kid to water my begonias' is more your style?"
"First of all," Brandon frowned, placing his hand boldly. "What in the hell are begonias?"
"They're a type of plant. Duh."
Brandon took a jab. "Ah, so you're one of those men who watch Martha Stewart every morning?"
"Gotta learn how to make Rosettes somehow." David glared back at the young man. "Of course, you don't know what those are either, do ya?"
For once, Brandon was rendered speechless. It didn't last long, because Brandon's frustration began to build, and David was in the midst of an attack.
"God damn't Dave, why do you have to be such a dick? Here I've been, trying my best to cheer your humorless ass up, and all you do is act all pissy! You'd think most people would lighten up after an hour or so - at the most - but all you've done is put me down. Sure I made a mistake and fucked up your hair, but you don't have to go psycho bitch on me about it! Let me tell you one thing mister -"
David threw his hands up, trying to calm the boy. "Hey, calm down!"
Brandon was still fuming. "No, listen here you asshole -"
"- Brandon. -"
"You're such a sanctimonious little -"
" - Brandon!" David barked, stomping one boot to the tile floor. The sound jerked Brandon from his heat, if only for a moment. For being as worked up as he was, Brandon's anger quickly dissipated as David began to laugh. Then it grew again.
"How can you laugh at me?!" he snarled as diabolically as he could muster.
David had to clutch his stomach to calm himself. "I'll tell ya how. All this was a prank. Lighten up!"
Brandon blinked once, twice before he raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I was just messing with you," David gasped, laughing again. "I didn't think you'd go ballistic on me like that!"
Brandon slumped as his tensed, alert muscles released at David's words. "You serious? About all that crap?"
"About messing with you, yes." The plumber smiled.
There was a moment of silence before Brandon's expression turned from contemplation to a glare. "How could you laugh at me like that?"
David shrugged. "Couldn't help it, I guess. I am a jerk, after all. You said it yourself."
"Sorry," Brandon apologized.
"I am too," David said. He gave one glance at the papers in his hand, before he proceeded to tear the stack into bunches of white scrap.
Brandon looked around the room. "So, what next, Dave? Are we done here?"
David thinks for a moment, before tossing all but one of the larger paper scraps away. "Almost. I gotta leave a note for George."
"Okay…I'll clean up the towels, then pack up to go."
"Sounds good."
David left the note short and simple: Needed more supplies, will return tomorrow to finish the job. That, along with his home phone number would have to be enough until David could dig up the same size of pipes to complete the task. Soon enough, Brandon had mopped up the rest of the water and stood to watch as David set the note on the table.
As the two plumbers walked out to the truck, David thought of something. "…You know, your mom said I could slap some sense into you if you gave me any lip."
Brandon looked at him, with a small curl on his lips. "Well I didn't give you any lip, but I did give your ass a verbal kicking. Besides, you're the one who's going to get slapped once my mom sees what you've done to my hair."
"Psh, what I did?" David chuckled. "You sacrificed it yourself, Bub."
"Only because I like you so much," Brandon said with a flutter of his eyelashes.
"Hah."
Brandon raised an eyebrow at David, as if he expected some smart-ass comeback from the older man. Finally, Brandon prompted, "Well?"
"…?"
"Don't tell me you've gone silent again!" He threw his hands up in disbelief.
"…"
"Gah!"
David finally chuckled. "You're so easy to mess with."
"And you're so hard to work with," the Hawaiian shot back.
"It wasn't my choice to get an apprentice."
Brandon laughed. "And I bet you thought it'd kill you."
"Yup," David answered truthfully.
"You could have gotten someone worse than me, ya know."
Ugh, then I would definitely be dead by now, David thought. "I guess."
Brandon smiled. "So you don't hate me?"
"…I kinda like you, kid," he admitted.
Brandon's face cracked into an all out beam, as he threw his arms wide open. When he stepped forward, David leapt back. "I said kinda," David growled. "Just…don't touch me."
"That's the Davey attitude we all know and love," Brandon said with a thumbs up.
"…Right."
"…"
"…"
After a beat, they both began to laugh.
===
Ms. Victor didn't find the situation quite as amusing.
"What," she shrieked, "did you do to your hair?!"
Brandon attempted to hide behind David, but the plumber knew better than to get between an insane mother and her partially sane child. "You're on your own," he whispered into Brandon's ear before he made an attempt to escape. Ms. Victor's voice stopped David in his track as effectively as if a noose had been thrown around his neck.
"You're not going anywhere!"
David cringed. "Damn…"
"And watch your language, Mister! Just because you're a plumber doesn't give you an excuse to influence my baby boy!"
Standing to attention, David gulped. "Yes Ma'am."
"What were you boys up to, anyway? Were you fixing a toilet in a hair salon, for Christ's sake?!"
That seemed like a rhetorical question to David. All the better - he wasn't quite sure what to say. Oh no, Ms. Victor, we were trapped in an apartment with a dysfunctional married couple. It wasn't too bad, 'cause the husband left us alone - two males with one half naked, phat and sassy lady. Oh, and was Brandon allowed to use Playdough as a child? 'Cause he was throwing it like a money with shit, and said half naked woman gave us a makeover! Yeah, so we didn't get much work done. Give us another chance, pretty please?
David knew from experience that it was safer to simply say nothing at all to an angered woman. Instead, he spoke to Brandon. "I'll have to mail your school the recommendation."
"Didn't ya get it done today?"
"Nope. We got a little side-tracked, remember?"
Ms. Victor blinked, eyelids snapping at the two males. "I'm still here, you know!"
Brandon continued to look at David, feeding off the anger of his mother with teenage rebellion. "Oh yeah," he chuckled. "I guess we did. I think we have a tendency to do that, don't we?"
"Yeah," David sighed. "If we worked together every day, we'd never get anything done."
If there was one thing women like Ms. Victor despised, it was being overlooked. "You two can't ignore me forever!" she snarled.
Brandon smirked. "Did you hear somethin'?"
"The Wicked Witch of the West?" David winked as the women besides them flushed red in the face.
"Eh, that's pretty close," Brandon laughed. He leaned forward towards David, a hand covering one side of his mouth - a makeshift privacy wall. "It's even worse, Dave. It's my Mother!"
"Oh you little…!" Ms. Victor cried, raising one hand to give her son a bop on the head. It seemed as though she wanted to do the same to David, who had burst out in a fit of laughter. Both men yelped and dodged, running separate directions - Brandon to his house, David to his truck. Gloved hands shoved the key into the ignition and the vehicle roared to life. Just then, David realized Brandon still had his supplies.
Brandon had remembered, too. "Wait!" the young man shouted, running outside from his front door, arms full of the tools, belt, and coveralls. Ms. Victor, still foaming at the mouth, lunged to grab her son by the shirt, but her age was no match to Brandon's youthful agility. The Hawaiian let out a squeak before he began to run faster. By the time he reached David's truck to toss the items inside, he was panting.
Like always, Brandon remained good-humored. "See ya, you phat and sassy man, you."
David smiled. "Good luck with high school - and your mother."
"Yeah, if you see any news reports about the Sophomore found mutilated in his yard, think of me," Brandon joked.
"Will do," David said, watching as Brandon's mother pinched her sons ear. As the boy - small compared to his mothers girth - was dragged away, Brandon waved. David pulled away from the house.
===
"Headed home at last," David sighed, leaning his left arm on the unrolled car window sill. "Today is finally over. I can lay back and do absolutely nothin'."
Those words rolled sweetly on his tongue and were almost as soothing as the wind in his hair. Summer air whipped the hanging bangs from David's face in a light tickle. The small caresses of each silk strand were comforting while the insistent touch urged him to relax. Relax…that's such a nice and inviting word. I'll do exactly that when I get home, David promised himself, closing his eyes sleepily in his comfort.
They didn't stay closed for long, just as David could never be comfortable for more than ten minutes at the most, it seemed. David's long bangs slowed their movement to graze slowly across his forehead. That's odd, he thought, frowning slightly. Either the wind had suddenly slowed, or…
"What the fuck?" David cried, slamming one fist against the dashboard. The speedometer's gauge began to drop from 60 mile per hour down to 50, 40, and continued its rapid decent after 30. Trees began to slow to a crawl through the truck windows as David fought with the engine. It sputtered and wheezed almost as loudly as David cursed. He jerked the wheel to steer towards the side of the street before the wheels dwindled completely to a stop, before he tried the engine again.
David King was a man doomed with bad luck.
"Don't you do this to me!" he said, giving his best efforts to threaten truck, yet it came out more as a pathetic plead than the demonic snarl he had hoped for. The truck was having none of it. "Come on, I'm not a mechanic! Don't you dare die on me!"
If the truck hadn't really died, it was doing quite the convincing impression. It's act was enough to send David stomping down the street, cursing the whole way. I swear, everything, everything is intent on ruining my day - even my god damn pick-up! What's a guy gotta do to go home and sleep around here? Does someone expect me to give them my soul?!
First, he'd have to search for a pay phone. Second, he'd have to search for loose change. Third, he'd have to find the nearest towing service. And finally, even if it was the last thing he'd do, David swore he'd return to the car with a gun.
Scratch that, make it a scud missile, because that truck is goin' down!