Chapter 7 #2
“Why?” I cry. “That’s the only way we can keep our places!”
“Not exactly. I want your place, too, and I talked to Gence about it. I plan on knocking down the wall entirely and making it one big apartment. Just like it used to be before they put up that piss-poor wall.”
“You want my place?” I shout, as appalled as if he’s demanded my firstborn. “Like hell you’ll get my apartment.”
“Maybe. But regardless, I won’t help you patch up a wall I would need to take down anyway if I were to get your apartment. Waste of time and money. I’ll help you take it down, though.”
I give him my stormiest, hall-hath-no-fury-like-a-woman-whose-apartment-is-threatened look, and slam my door in his face as hard as I can.
Forget Cold War. I’m going nuclear.
Avery surveys The Hole, his green eyes squinting in concentration. I hold the tape measure out to him and he accepts, whipping the yellow metal tape out in a blur and then fumbling with it when it bends and catches on my rug.
“Not the first time that’s happened,” Margie says. “According to Krista.”
Avery mutters something under his breath about the pressure of exams and big mouths. He’s still friends with every ex he’s ever had, so he’s no doubt debating whether or not to bring up this breach of trust the next time he connects with his former girlfriend from grad school.
He sorts out the measuring tape and threads it out carefully so that it sits along the length of the wall with The Hole. He squats and peers at the number, and then we wait as he presses the button to coil it noisily back into its holster. It takes an absurdly long time.
I give him an expectant look as he straightens.
“Shit, I forgot the number,” he says. “We should write it down.”
“How are you so hopeless with home improvement but so brilliant at work?” Margie asks. “And why are you measuring something that needs to be taken down?”
Avery glares. “Why are you so good at crying on command but laugh like you’re burning down a house full of orphans?”
Margie scrunches her nose. “My laugh almost won me a daytime Emmy for Alcott Landing.”
“Almost.”
Margie laughs out loud, and Avery chuckles.
“You guys, stop,” I moan. “I need someone who knows construction. What am I going to do? That monster wants Mary Sue.”
“Who’s Mary Sue?” Avery asks.
“Her apartment. Because it is perfect and without flaws,” Margie responds.
“Hire someone? I told you, Pen. I’m not handy. My super had to hang up all the photos in my apartment. I’ll help take the wall down, but putting it back up again is going to require a pro.”
“Everyone keeps offering to take it down, but no one can put it up. And I can’t afford to hire someone.
I can’t even afford to buy my place. No—before you start, I’m not taking money from you.
Why couldn’t I just be friends with a contractor?
” I cry, flopping down on the couch and throwing an arm over my eyes.
“Meaningful years-long friendships, heartfelt talks, being there for one another, and it’s all down the drain because we can’t swing a hammer,” Margie muses.
“I meant in addition to you both.”
“Nice save,” Avery says.
“I think La has some construction experience. She was involved in the reno at her restaurant. We can ask her.” Margie pulls out her phone and types a text.
“You have her number?”
Margie shrugs. “Yeah, we’re friends—friendly.”
We don’t have to wait very long for an answer. Margie’s phone pings right away. “She’s in. Buhhh… Stop. Don’t get too excited. She says we’ve got to handle the demolition ourselves—”
“Which is fine because you guys can help me demo it,” I interject excitedly.
“Yeah, but she also won’t be able to rebuild the wall entirely since she’s got the restaurant to take care of.
But, once we’re done with the demo, she can swing by, get us started on the build, show us the ropes, and check in every once in a while to make sure it’s going okay.
I’m sure we can manage this thing,” Margie says, waving an arm at my wall with the giant cyclops eye in the middle.
“I love you.” I launch myself at Margie, pelting her with kisses.
Avery nods, pursing his lips. “Looks like you’re all sorted, so—”
“You’re still helping with demolition.”
He sighs. “Can I pay someone to stand in for me instead of providing the free labor myself?”
I hear Jack’s door open, and my joy at besting that dildo knows no bounds.
I poke my head through The Hole. Jack is shrugging off his dress shirt.
He cocks a dark eyebrow, staring at me, as he drops it onto the back of a chair.
This isn’t Victorian England. I’m not distracted by the flash of tanned skin above the neck of his undershirt.
I’m simply confirming that there are no signs of a cat allergy yet.
“Hiya, roomie! Welcome home.” My gloating floats over to him like a noxious yellow cloud.
“These two are a disaster,” Margie says to Avery. I shoot her a quelling look.
“Heads-up that construction is underway. I’ve assembled my crew, and we’re measuring and stuff before starting demolition.”
“Your crew,” he deadpans. He approaches The Hole, smelling of piney evil, and glances through. “Why are you measuring the wall before you take it down?”
“See?” Margie says.
Avery snorts.
“Because we need to know how much material to buy for the rebuild. That’s why.” In my head, the answer sounds like it could be correct. I, myself, didn’t question why Avery was measuring, and we have recorded exactly zero metrics, but Jack doesn’t need to know that.
Avery nods at Jack. “Hi. I’m Avery,” he says. “This is Margie.”
Margie salutes.
“Jack.”
“A face to go with the bathroom,” Margie murmurs, drawing Jack’s sharp eyes.
I’m going to murder her.
“Nice to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I’m immediately overcome by fury at the reminder of his eavesdropping. Guess what keeps longer than my relationships, Jack? My grudges.
I push at the sheet I’ve draped over my sofa so that it once again covers The Hole…and Jack’s gargoyle dimples.