Chapter Six
EMPTYING AND cleaning the remainder of the first floor—including the horrible kitchen cabinets and appliances—took until early afternoon. Joe sent the kids into town for pizza while he and Austin panted in the camp chairs they’d set up in the dining room.
“Septic guy confirmed for tomorrow?” Austin asked, wondering if he could get away with sneaking out to the trailer for a catnap before lunch.
He’d cleared tomorrow’s appointments from the garage schedule.
Frankly he was looking forward to spending the day in the trailer, possibly with the space heater cranked since the temperature was finally supposed to drop, and reading, hilariously, a couple decades’ worth of Playboy short fiction.
“Yeah.” They both looked at the kitchen sink—housed in the only remaining cabinet, left in case the septic guy needed to inspect it to diagnose their issue.
“Fingers crossed.”
“Ripping up the floor next weekend?”
Austin waggled his hand back and forth. “Maybe. Could start sooner.” Especially since he had Monday off. “At least get a feeling for what we’re working with. I’m not an expert carpenter, though.”
“Eh,” Joe said, half smiling, “that’s okay. I’m pretty good with wood.”
“So your shirt says,” Austin said wryly. This one said I Like Big Birch. It had the logo for Joe’s company on the back.
He preened. “Gavin designed it. Birthday present from the kids. Have to give him credit for finally picking a slogan I can wear in public.”
Oh God. Austin had to ask. “What do the other ones say?”
“The one the kids like best is I Heart Hardwood.”
Austin choked. “Of course it was.”
Joe grinned.
“Your children are menaces.”
“Only most of the time. The rest of the time, they have redeeming qualities.”
At that moment, Gavin and Alex returned with the pizza and once again made a loud entrance.
“I found you a girlfriend.” Gavin grinned at them over the boxes. He had the appeal of a cherubic kindergartener—innocent enthusiasm that made you want to give in to his schemes and avoid disappointing him. How he managed to pull that off while meddling in Joe’s love life, Austin wasn’t sure.
“A girlfriend,” Joe repeated.
Next to Gavin, carrying a bag with their ordered drinks, Alex nodded. “Yeah, we ran into Ms. Kent, our math teacher, at the pizza shop.”
“And she’s totally single,” Gavin added, “because she never talks about dating anyone, but she talks about her brother and niblings all the time.”
Austin bit his lip to keep from laughing as Joe literally facepalmed.
“Your teacher,” he muttered. “I do not want to date your teacher.”
“Why not?” Gavin asked.
“Yeah, why not? Ms. Kent is really pretty, and you know she’s into family and kids, what with the talking about her own all the time.” Alex crossed their arms, clearly annoyed at having their reasonable suggestion brushed aside.
“Ms. Kent isn’t pretty. She’s totally snatched—I mean, for an old math teacher.”
Joe pinched his nose. “I know I’m going to regret this, but how old is she?”
“Um. I mean, I think she mentioned something about being a young millennial once….”
“I don’t know if I should be insulted that you called me old or relieved that you’ve shown some sense in your matchmaking efforts.”
“Definitely the first one,” Austin said. “You’re not the only one they called old.”
“We didn’t call you ancient or anything,” Gavin said. “And why don’t you want to date our teacher?”
“Gavin, more to the point, why would I want to?”
“Um, did you miss the part about hot?”
“So you want to look at the person giving you math tests knowing I kissed them?”
Gavin opened his mouth, shut it, and wilted. “Fine.” He put the pizza boxes down, and Alex passed around their drinks.
They each grabbed a slice, and for a moment, everyone was too hungry to talk. But of course, it couldn’t last.
“I just don’t get it,” Gavin said. “You’re terminally single. If I looked like you, I’d be drowning in pussy.”
“Ick,” Alex yelped.
“Or ass, I guess,” Gavin amended, with a nod toward Joe.
“So, you’re stealing his looks and his sexuality?” Alex snarked.
“Young one,” Joe said seriously, “with great power comes great responsibility.”
Austin nearly snorted cream soda out his nose.
“Excuses,” Gavin said. He waved his pizza in the air while he spoke. “You just don’t have any game.”
“It’s true,” Alex agreed. “No game.”
“I’ve never even seen you flirt.”
Joe stared. “Did you want to?”
Alex made a face, and Gavin shrugged.
“Aren’t you supposed to model healthy adult relationships for us and shit?”
Joe looked at Austin. “I regret my life choices.”
“But they’re so entertaining.” Austin wiped a smear of pizza grease off his chin. “Being a single dad must be so hard.”
“If it is,” Gavin said sagely, “he’s taking care of it by himself.”
“Ugh.” Alex threw down their pizza. “Gross. Really, Gavin? While we’re eating?”
Where had his paper towel gone? It took Austin a moment to locate it, stuck with cheese to the bottom of his paper plate. “Kid,” he said, meeting Gavin’s eyes across the room. “You say he’s got no game.”
“He categorically has no game,” Gavin proclaimed. “He’s been single for so long. It’s sad.”
Austin glanced at Joe, who had taken the teasing with good grace, mostly, but now looked kind of miserable. Austin could only guess he was thinking of his last relationship and its untimely demise, and Gavin’s well-meaning interference wasn’t helping.
“He owns his own business,” Austin said. “He plays piano. Good body. Great ass. His face is okay.”
Alex cackled. Joe said, with furrowed brow, “Thanks?”
Gavin only raised his eyebrows and gestured for Austin to continue.
“From where I’m sitting, he’s got plenty of game.” He paused for dramatic effect and threw his napkin at Gavin’s head. “He just ain’t playing.”
It would’ve been a good mic-drop moment, but Joe ruined it by clapping once and then pointing, like a dad. “Yes,” he said. “Exactly.”
Austin sighed and shook his head. “Never mind.”
They packed the rest of the pizza into the trailer fridge and split up to go back to work. Joe and Gavin stayed downstairs to start moving boxes out to the garage or the pole barn or the dumpster, and Austin and Alex went upstairs.
“Keep an eye out for any little typewriter bits,” Austin said as he unfastened the headboard for the twin bed. “I’m missing a couple keys.”
Alex peered at him from where they were holding the wood steady so it didn’t crush Austin’s noggin when the bolts came out. “I thought it didn’t work.”
He snorted, then grimaced and put a little more elbow grease on the wrench. “Yeah, but I can fix that if I find the letters.” The nut finally eased, and he picked up the drill with the socket attachment from the floor beside him to finish the job.
“Cool.”
He looked up. “Yeah, it is. I like saving things from being junk.”
They grinned. “This house is really testing you, eh?”
He laughed and started work on the second bolt. “You’re not wrong.”
The hardware went in a small paper bag he taped to the headboard with painter’s tape, and they carried the bedframe down the stairs in pieces.
Up and down and up and down and up and down they went, until the sun was kissing the horizon and Alex and Gavin waved goodbye to go home to their families for dinner.
“Almost done?” Joe asked.
“Couple mattresses left,” Austin said. He hadn’t wanted to ask Alex to help with those; they seemed pretty strong, but the stairs were narrow and steep and one of the mattresses had a rusted spring poking out. “And a surprise.”
Joe looked exhausted, but he nodded grimly. “Mattresses first.”
They trudged back up the stairs.
The first mattress was full-size. It barely squeezed down, the top just brushing the ceiling at the narrowest part of the staircase.
Maybe that lulled them into a false sense of security, because the second one didn’t go nearly as smoothly.
“You’re gonna have to push,” Austin called from the bottom. They’d pulled down on the queen-size mattress to compress it enough to get it this far, but they couldn’t reach it now, and it was stuck. “I knew we should’ve used the ratchet straps.”
“You and your goddamn ratchet straps,” Joe grumbled. Austin could hear the forced huffs of his breath as he put his shoulder into trying to unjam the mattress. “Okay, pull on three. Ready? One.” Austin adjusted his grip. “Two.” He braced his shoulder against the wall. “Three!”
Joe pushed. Austin pulled.
The mattress gave not at all, and then all at once. Or so Austin thought—until he heard the crack and his foot went out from under him. “Oh shit—”
“Austin?”
He flailed out one-handed and latched on to the railing, which steadied him for a moment before it pulled free of the plaster with a lurch.
His foot sank lower.
“Austin! Are you—”
Austin looked down. His left leg was bent at the knee in a squat, his left arm stretched out grasping the useless railing.
His right leg was dangling below him, having fallen victim to a sudden hole in the staircase.
“I’m stuck,” Austin said succinctly.
“Jesus Christ,” Joe said. “Again?” Perhaps he hoped Austin was joking, or maybe he had already seen the problem. Joe couldn’t do shit to help. He was stuck upstairs so long as the mattress was blocking the way down.
Austin dropped his forehead to the mattress—then jerked back when he thought about putting his face on that gross thing. “Yes. Stuck.”
“What happened?” Joe sounded like he didn’t actually want to know.
“Well, I can’t see my right foot. It went right through.”
“Right through the step?”
If Austin weren’t currently wondering if he was going to be stuck here for the rest of his life, Joe’s tone would have been hilarious. He almost wished he hadn’t left his phone downstairs so that he could record it. “Yes. The step. I’m up to my knee.”
“Oh. Fuck.”
“Yup.”
“Can you get unstuck?”
“Without you?”
“Yeah.”
“Honestly? Not sure, but I guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“Nope.”