Chapter 6 #2
I start to inch my way down, one trembling step at a time. The ladder creaks, or maybe that’s my imagination, but I don’t care at this point. I’m getting off this damn thing before I end up with more than a busted sign to worry about.
My first foot hits the pavement. Just as I let go of the rails, a familiar, yet irritated voice from behind me slices through any relief I was feeling now that I’ve made it to the ground safely.
His tone jolts my nervous system, but unlike my newly acquired fear of heights, his sharp question cuts in a different way. “What the hell are you doing?”
Ezra.
He shuffles toward me, arms swinging. His t-shirt, faded and stretched, looks like it’s been worn a million times. Loose, distressed jeans hang low on his hips, scuffed sneakers dragging as if picking up his feet would be too much work.
Before officially greeting him, I place my second foot on the ground and wipe the sweat off my forehead with one of the gloves. “We need a more secure ladder, my dude.”
“And you need to answer my question. What the hell are you doing?” Even in this scorching heat, his demand, albeit unnecessary, sends a shiver across my forearms.
“I was trying to fix your sign—while risking my life, I might add. What does it look like I’m doing?
” I pat my hands on the surface of my jeans, trying to look like I know how to dust off hard labor, while keeping my eyes glued to the ground, avoiding the guy whose prickly tone is testing my patience.
“It looks like I caught someone trying to destroy my property.” He shakes his head. “Do you understand how lucky you are to have only been caught by me? Mrs. Barnes is notorious for calling the police on people she thinks are breaking and entering.”
“I already handled Mrs. Barnes, for your information. She sends her best to your mom.” I pause. “And I now realize she thought I was you.”
“That still doesn’t give you the right to come onto my property…”
“Oh, give it a rest, Ezra,” I cut him off. “If the alley was open like it should have been, we wouldn’t have had this problem.” I rake my hands through my hair, gripping tight at the roots before forcing myself to let go. “I could have spoken with you about my offer to help with Spare Time.”
His mouth opens to say something, but I lift my hand in the air to hush him.
“You are literally in the running to host one the most popular bowling tournaments in the national league. If you were taking this seriously, I wouldn’t have found myself tempting fate on a ladder to change your light bulbs.
” I stop talking, take a breath, and hold it, reluctantly choosing now to let him respond.
“How many bowlers does it take to screw in a light bulb, Truett?”
His question, or possible joke, halts me. It’s such a switch in topic, I nearly get whiplash. “You can’t be serious right now?”
“None. The answer is none. No bowlers, especially bowlers competing in the USBC Championship, should be helping me screw in light bulbs. Have you read the rules? I have. I woke up early this morning to go through the whole manual the USBC sent in their email last night. You can’t help me.
So, before you keep thinking you can, stop trying. ”
“No, I’ve never had to read the rules before.
And for crying out loud, it’s a light bulb.
I’m not bulldozing and rebuilding.” I instinctively throw my hand back behind my head to scratch an itch that doesn’t necessarily need it.
“Which, by the way, I think I fixed your sign.” I point.
“Just need to turn the switch on. You know, when you finally open the alley.”
Ezra grunts while he walks around the ladder and swiftly zooms right past me to unlock the main entrance to the alley.
He looks down and gently kicks one of the shoes lying by the door.
“You know, if you needed a pair of shoes, you could have just asked.” A surprising chuckle escapes the corner of his mouth.
“I… don’t need shoes. I just…” I roll my eyes, “...whatever.”
He jiggles the key in the lock and turns it hard three times. The third time is accompanied by a loud click. I’d make a mental note about replacing the lock system, but at this point, who knows if Ezra will take the feedback.
We both still seem irritated with each other. His jaw tightens when he opens the door, and his head swivels to scan the empty alley, his eyes landing on the wall clock, like he’s trying not to count down the seconds until I walk away.
I tug at the sleeve of my shirt, fidget with the hem, anything to look hopeful. I can’t help but think my presence isn’t as annoying to him as he’s pretending it is.
“I have a lot of work to get done today. I’m sorry, but the alley is closed until tomorrow.
You can come back and practice then. Thanks for dropping the shoes off.
” He steps inside and flips the switch on the wall.
We both look up and see the sign working as normal.
“Thanks for fixing that. It’s one less thing I have to do. ”
“Wait!” I step forward, clinging to the notion that anything I say next could change Ezra’s mind. Desperate for the chance to find a resemblance of a purpose here, I plead, “I can volunteer. I don’t know what the rulebook says, but they can’t stop people from volunteering.”