“You bet it does!” he laughed. Then he gestured with his hammer. “C’mon, let’s get to work. Sorry… back to work.”
“Thank you.”
We spent the rest of the day ripping out dark paneling and faded carpet, along with a couple of seriously ugly pastel bathrooms. It wasn’t mindless work, but it didn’t require my full attention, so I used the time to think.
Christy had been steadily dropping hints about weddings, honeymoons, and marriage in general. The comments were always subtle, worked into normal conversation, but they added up. She was her mother’s daughter, all right, and I got the message—she was ready for me to pop the question, immediately, right away, chop-chop.
Part of me wanted to ignore Rich’s advice. This was the Twentieth Century, after all, not the Eighteenth or Nineteenth. I didn’t need Harold’s permission to marry his daughter. She was an adult. She could do what she wanted. And the sooner he realized that, the better.
Another part of me knew that it wouldn’t hurt to ask. In fact, it would do a lot of good. It was about respect and maturity. Besides, he couldn’t really say no, and he was smart enough to realize that I wouldn’t go away even if he did.
At that point I imagined a knock-down, drag-out argument if he did say no. Then I imagined ignoring him and marrying her anyway. Neither was likely to happen, but it was fun to fantasize about. I was a knight in shining armor and Christy was a fair maiden, held hostage by the evil King Harold.
“Seriously?” I laughed aloud. “Get a grip, dude.”
Trip stopped chiseling tiles. “Huh? Did you say something?”
“Sorry. Talking to myself.”
“Whatever. C’mon, I wanna finish this one today. Time is—”
“—money. I know. Back to work.”
I decided that asking Harold’s permission wouldn’t kill me. He wasn’t an evil king, after all. And he loved his daughter. He wanted her to be happy. Besides, it was a formality more than anything, and he’d probably say yes.
I stopped second-guessing myself and began planning instead. I needed to find a way to sneak off to San Diego without Christy finding out. I had a couple of ideas, but I needed to arrange some other things first.
I came up with an excuse that evening and went to visit Susan to make a few calls. Then I spent a day and a half working out the details in my head. Finally, I enlisted Trip’s help.
“Oh, you’re good,” he said when I told him the plan.
“Do you really think it’ll work?”
“It should. We’ll need to pick up the Bobcat tomorrow, though. Let’s knock off early today. I’ll call and reserve it. I can drive to Spartanburg while you’re with Granville.”
I nodded.
“I’ll need to tell Wren, though. Are you okay with that?”
“Can she keep a secret?”
He gave me a flat look.
“Yeah, dumb question.”
“So you’re really going to do it?” He pulled down his mask so I could see his grin.
I did the same and lifted my goggles as well. “Looks like.”
“Well, let me be the first to congratulate you.”
“Don’t jinx it,” I laughed. “She hasn’t said yes yet.”
“Dude! She will. You’re perfect for each other. And between you and me, that’s all she and Wren talk about lately. I get an earful every night. I’m supposed to encourage you.”
“Seriously? Why haven’t you said anything?”
He shrugged. “No need.”
“Huh?”
“How long’ve we known each other? You think I can’t tell when you’re planning something?”
“Yeah, fair enough.”
“And… I hope you don’t mind, but I’m totally gonna take credit. With Wren, at least.”
“For real?”
“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I am!” We traded a couple of goofy grins before he sobered and looked at the clutter around us. We were in the middle of another kitchen, this one with metal cabinets that had seen their best days under President Eisenhower. “Everything here will keep,” Trip said. “Besides, we have better things to do.”
“I don’t know who’s more excited,” I joked, “me or you.”
“Who cares? We’re both gonna get laid.”
“Ha! No kidding.”
“Let’s go. Time is pussy.”
* * *
A couple of days later, I emerged from the bungalow and dried my hair on the porch. I was still cold from the shower, and the late-afternoon heat felt good.
Christy glanced my direction and smiled. Then she returned her attention to the pH test kit. She couldn’t balance her checkbook to save her life, but she could balance the pool chemicals almost without thinking. I chuckled to myself at the way her brain worked.
All of a sudden the clubhouse door swung open.
“Dude,” Trip called across the patio, “we got problems.”
Christy’s head came up, and she watched as he strode toward me.
I met him halfway. “What’s up?”
“I just got off the phone with Sayuri. It’s the house. The sewer float busted.”
That wasn’t what we’d planned.
“It just blew,” he continued with a straight face. “Sky high.”
“Oh my gosh,” Christy said, “is it bad?”
“It’s bad,” he told her. “The city turned off the sewage backflow pump—”
The what?
“—but we still have problems.” He turned a grave face to me. “You’re the only one who knows how the sewer float works. You have to hurry. If you don’t…” He trailed off ominously.
“What?” Christy asked.
“There’s a river of shit heading straight for the house.”
Her eyes widened in horror.
I’m going to kill him, I thought grimly.
“Oh my gosh, Paul! You have to stop it.”
“I… I don’t know if I can,” I said.
“We’ll lose the house if you don’t,” Trip said. Then he delivered his pièce de résistance. “Help us, Poopie-Wan. You’re our only hope.”
I nearly burst a blood vessel, and I had to cover my face so Christy wouldn’t see how hard I was trying not to laugh. I somehow convinced her it was disgust.
Trip grinned smugly. How long had he been thinking of that line? How had he even said it with a straight face?
“You have to go,” Christy said. “Now!”
“The city has a temporary sewer dam in place,” Trip said, “but they don’t think it’ll hold more than a day.”
“So I can leave in the morning?” I said, back on-script.
“No! Go now!” Christy insisted. “It’s a river of you-know-what, Paul.”
“No, Paul’s right,” Trip said. “None of the hardware stores’ll be open. He needs to buy a new sewer float and decrapulator assembly.”
I had to bite my lip and look away.
Christy mistook my pain for indecision. “I’ll help you pack,” she said. “You can leave first thing in the morning.”
I’ll get you for this, I thought at Trip.
Hey, you said you needed a crappy excuse.
* * *
I left before breakfast and drove to Atlanta instead of Knoxville. I could’ve driven to Columbia or Charlotte, but my chances were better with Atlanta. I refused to pay the exorbitant last-minute ticket prices, so I used my dependent pass to book standby.
The airline had several direct flights to San Diego, and I’d picked the one with the most empty seats. The gods of travel smiled on me. I made the passenger list without breaking a sweat, and Rich was waiting for me when I arrived.
“Well, if it isn’t Romeo,” he said, “all dressed up and everything. I didn’t think you’d have the stones to do it, but here you are. Gotta respect that.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.
“Thanks, Rich. And thanks for picking me up.”
“Orders.”
“Hold on… you told your parents?”
“No, of course not. What kind of idiot do you think I am? Standing orders—keep an eye on the boyfriend.” He nodded at my backpack. “You have any other luggage?”