16. Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Chuck
The last of the boxes from the upstairs bathroom was finally empty. Chuck had to admit, getting the boys out of the house was…nerve-wracking, but he did feel a lot freer to just do some work around the place now that they were out and about. Even if he was checking his phone every couple minutes waiting for news that one of the boys broke an arm or lit the store on fire or…died.
I’m worried about my teenage sons spontaneously dying. Paragon of mental health, that’s me.
He had a decent pile of stuff to go to the local thrift store, and the keep pile wasn’t exactly stuff he would need on a regular basis, so he had it stowed away in some plastic bins. They hadn’t made it into the closet yet—cleaning that out was the next project—but they’d been condensed down and piled neatly in the corner.
With one box of photo albums that he still hadn’t gotten the guts to sort through.
Chuck ran his fingers over the cover of the top album and played closer to the edge, ready to lift it—
Loud music exploded from down the hall. Familiar music. Twangy music. It lasted maybe thirty seconds before shutting off, but the melody stuck in Chuck’s craw. Definitely familiar. Definitely country, but he hadn’t listened to country on the regular in years. Part of the marriage vows with Andrew—Chuck didn’t play country and Andrew didn’t play show tunes.
What I wouldn’t give to hear the soundtrack to Waitress, now.
The music blasted out again, that time for even longer. Chuck headed out, looking for the source of the music. Didn’t take long. The upstairs bathroom. Where Robinson was.
Where Robinson was currently swearing amid Reba’s Why Haven’t I Heard From You?
“Fucking stupid phone.” Robinson marched out of the bathroom and the music got louder. He cringed at Chuck and tapped at his phone a few more times. The music eventually stopped and Robinson shook his head. “I’m sorry. I thought my headphones charged overnight. Apparently not enough.” He slipped the wireless buds from his ears, then dug out a little carrier from his pocket and tucked them in there. “I know it’s not everyone’s taste in music.”
“I’m not mad. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just…I guess my volume was up and I was listening to some music and when the headphones died, it just blasted instead of pausing or whatever.” He shrugged. “Needed some angry women with big hair.”
“Ooh. Must be rough if you need that level of divine intervention.”
“The higher the hair, the closer to God.” Robinson scrubbed a hand down his face. “Just feeling some kind of way.”
Chuck looked at him, waiting for any other explanation. Maybe it was some kind of misguided fatherly instinct, or maybe it was the crush that still wouldn’t fade after the initial infatuation should have been worn well away by time. But he could tell there was something up and he was hoping Robinson would elaborate.
Didn’t seem to be in the cards, so Chuck pivoted. “Well, crank the music back up and tell me what we’re fixing. They can’t yell at the homeowner for his taste in music.”
“Well, copyright’s the real problem.” Robinson sighed. “Can’t really play music that Homescapes is going to have to pay extra to license.”
“Right.” Chuck sighed. “I can at least plug those in for you so they’re charged up later.”
“Oh, you don’t need to.”
“I have three kids. Half my life is charging things someone forgot about.” Chuck held out his hand. “And then I can help you out if you need extra hands.”
“Um.” Robinson seemed totally lost, but he did hand over the ear buds in the case. “I don’t want to bother you…actually, you know what? Yeah.” Robinson turned to face Chuck head-on, and…his cheeks were getting red. Chuck’s mind spun, looking for any sort of explanation for that , and trying not to just think that maybe Robinson also had some kind of thing for him and was getting flustered.
Robinson interrupted his attempt at finding reason by just pushing on ahead. “It’s not exciting work, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some help. You’ve got bigger muscles than me so you can haul out all this crap I’m breaking apart.”
“Sounds good to me.” Not the least reason being that he and Robinson would be in tight quarters together. Maybe that level of exposure would get him past this crush so he could actually behave like a normal human being again.
Chuck plugged the ear buds in—he had the same model, so his charger slotted right in—then headed back to the bathroom. Robinson was squatting in the tub, chipping away at the last bits of tile with a hammer and chisel. Didn’t seem exactly like plumbing work, but when Chuck saw the small of his back exposed, along with a black waistband and white fabric from his boxers peeking over the top of his jeans, he wasn’t about to question it.
Without turning his head, Robinson said, “Won’t be too much more in here, then we can get into your master bath. If you’re not totally turned off from the idea of helping by then.” He waved over his shoulder with his right hand…and the hammer. “Come on in here. Some of these are really stuck on and I could use someone whose biceps don’t look like yarn and pom-poms.”
Chuck tried really hard to find a way to get in there without it being too touchy, but none appeared. He wasn’t entirely upset about that as he squeezed into the tub, thighs burning since he didn’t exactly do this kind of work all the time, and cozied up with Robinson. “So, where do I need to pretend that I’m strong?”
“Start here.” He handed over the hammer, then placed his chisel at the top of a surprisingly large patch of tile still attached right at the base of the tub. “If it was in the middle somewhere, I might just leave it and rip out the drywall here anyway. But if it’s this attached to the backing board, God knows how firmly it’s stuck to this tub surround. Could peel up the finish, then we’d be looking at refinishing, or just ripping out the whole tub.”
“Well, maybe I should miss on purpose.” Chuck said it as he lined up the hammer, so hopefully it was clear he wasn’t being serious. “I could get a brand new bathtub out of the show then, right?”
“Too bad we’re both wearing mics. Your fraud has been recorded.”
“Damn.” Robinson’s hand was right there, so Chuck tensed as he swung the hammer down against the butt of the chisel. A bit of tile popped off, then a bit more, then a big chunk of it fell into the tub, held on by a line of silicone caulking that had definitely seen better days.
Robinson pulled the chisel away and used the edge to cut away the caulk. Then he lifted it up so he could get a closer look at it. “Well, looks like whoever you brought in didn’t do a stellar job with this, either.” He looked down to where the caulk had rested against the edge of the tub. “Got lucky, though. Think the caulk wasn’t properly installed, but doesn’t look like there’s any damage around the wall or the tub.”
“Well, I’ll take a lucky caulk job over a messy one.”
Robinson raised an eyebrow. “Really? I prefer them messy.”
He tossed the tile into the bucket behind him, and Chuck’s dick throb at the innuendo.