Page 6 of Bang it Out

I pull out my phone and search for the plumber I used last year. After spending exactly two minutes on the phone with their snippy receptionist, I have my answer; no. I’ll be charged for the visit, for whatever parts they need, and the labor it takes to do the work. Basically, no discount, no free inspection, just an astronomical number that doesn’t even include the actual cost of labor.

Leaning my back against the nearest wall, I slide down until I’m on the ground, slouched against the wall. I don’t have the money to fix the damn sink. At least not this month. But as a floral shop, I can’t exactly go without water.

Frick. Frick, frick, frick, I repeat in my mind while thudding my head against the wall as if I might rattle a brilliant idea loose. Unfortunately, all I accomplish is giving myself a headache.

I guess it’s time to look up some YouTube tutorials on plumbing and hit up the hardware store across the street. This is fine. Everything will turn out fine. How hard can it be to tighten a hose or whatever? I’m sure I can handle it.

4

ARCHER

I’m standing in the middle of the aisle at Higgins Hardware, comparing two drill bits when I see her. Delilah. I’d recognize that wild shade of reddish-orange hair anywhere. Breathing in, I even smell the delicate floral scent I associate with the stunning creature.

The shop owner next door to my current construction site started out as a beautiful but frustrating force to be reckoned with. A week later, and I’m starting to see what’s beneath her sassy attitude and mischievous grin.

Without thinking about what I'm doing, I find myself following Delilah like a lost puppy. I know I should leave her alone. She's made it clear that she's annoyed with me and my business, which has been disrupting her otherwise peaceful existence.

Still, after our run-in this morning, quite literally, I haven’t been able to erase the image of sorrow in her normally bright blue eyes. Delilah was a different person when I saw her earlier. Gone was the spark of rebelliousness, replaced instead by a burden so great I almost demanded that she tell me what or who made her feel that way.

I keep a good distance behind her, which doesn’t help me feel like less of a creep. I can’t seem to stop myself. My feet have taken over, directing me where to go.

I watch as Delilah wanders up one aisle and down the other, looking a bit lost as she grabs random tools and adds them to her basket. She pauses in front of a wall of nuts and bolts, her eyes growing wide as she takes a fortifying breath. This woman looks like she’s getting ready to climb Mt. Everest, not select a matching nut and bolt set.

When the gorgeous but off-limits Delilah sighs in frustration, I decide to take pity on her.

“Are you working on your next devious plan to halt progress on my construction site?” I ask as I step up next to her.

She whips her head in my direction, tilting her chin up so those clear blue eyes are peering into mine. Just like this morning, I can tell she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“My brilliant antics have to be put on hold for the moment,” Delilah replies. I can tell she’s trying to tease me and give me a hard time, but her heart isn’t in it. I hate seeing her this way.

“Oh?”

Delilah nods, turning her attention back to the wall of nuts and bolts. It’s almost like talking to me and looking at me at the same time is too much.

“My stupid sink decided to poop out on me. Again.”

Despite her clear anguish, I can’t help the little grin spreading across my face at her wording. Who says “pooped out”?

Looking into her basket, I take inventory of what she’s gathered so far. A hammer, nails, a set of wire brushes, and a drill.

“I hate to break it to you, but none of that is going to help with your sink. Please don’t hammer any pipes or puncture them with nails. I don’t know if I can recover from a flash flood.”

I was trying to lighten the mood a bit, but Delilah isn’t laughing. Not even a hint of a smile. She’s clearly more stressed about this than I originally thought.

“Look, why don’t I help? I can at least point you in the right direction for what you’ll need. Tell me what the problem is,” I offer.

For a moment, she looks like she might shrug me off, but then she looks from her basket to me, then back to the wall of supplies, slowly nodding her head. “Yeah. I mean, if you don’t mind. I’m kind of lost here,” she admits. “My sink is doing this thing where it suddenly loses water pressure and just makes a chugging sound before spitting a few droplets at me. I had it fixed last year, but I guess whatever it was broke again.”

Who is this timid woman? And why do I feel the overwhelming and undeniable urge to protect her?

I take her basket out of her hands and return the unnecessary hammer and nails. The wire brushes might come in handy if there’s a clog, but I’m guessing it’s something more serious if she’s been having problems with it for a while.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re walking out of Higgins Hardware with the correct materials and tools to diagnose and fix the issue. Anything we don’t have here I can always borrow from the work site next door.

The store is conveniently located across the street from the flower shop and soon-to-be retail space, which means we’re back at Blushing Blooms in under three minutes.

I've never actually been in her shop, but as soon as I step inside, a calming peace washes over me. The walls and flooring are light gray, which only serves to make the colorful flowers and lush greenery stand out all the more against the neutral background. The air smells clean and sweet, and I start to feel the tension drain from my muscles one by one.

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