Page 88 of Play Book

“No, I turned off the valve, but now we don’t have water.”

“Well, give me a second and let me get you the name of the plumber I use. If you tell him I sent you, he’ll probably come out first thing tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Joel follows me into the house. “How are we going to go to the bathroom?”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, digging in the drawer where I kept business cards. “But I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t fix it myself.” I pull out the card and hold it out to him. “Max is great and affordable. If you want to pay top dollar, you can try to get someone out tonight, but that’s probably expensive.”

“I assumed you would pay for it,” he says with an edge to his voice.

“I will. But that’s why you need to use Max. It’s six thirty on a Friday night. I don’t know that you’ll find someone who can come out right this minute.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He turns on his heel and stalks through the house toward the front door.

“Joel, just let me?—”

“Never mind!” he snaps, throwing open the front door just as Canyon has lifted a hand to knock.

“Hey, man.” Canyon says.

“Fuck off.”

TWENTY-SIX

Canyon

“Wow, who pissed in his corn flakes?” I ask, a little irritated at Joel’s attitude.

She rolls her eyes. “They have a leak in the bathroom, and he’s mad that I can’t get someone up here right this minute to fix it.”

“You want me to take a look?”

“No. Not with that attitude. The hell with him. It’s not the end of the world if my plumber can’t come until morning.”

“Well, let me know if you ever need me to look at stuff. I’m pretty handy.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Uh, let me grab my purse. I put it down in the kitchen.” She disappears and comes back holding a little silver bag.

I take her hand, and we walk out to my car. There’s no mistaking the yelling coming from next door, and I grimace.

“He sounds even grumpier than me.”

“I’ve never heard them fight like that,” she says with a confused look on her face.

“All because of a leak?”

“Apparently. I like having the income, but sometimes I wish I didn’t have tenants,” she says once we’re in the car. “There haven’t been a lot of issues, but it seems like they’re constantly calling me for something lately. The light in the fridge is out. An outlet suddenly stopped working. A leak. A screen in one of the windows went missing… sometimes it’s weird how everything seems to go wrong at their place but nothing at mine.”

“Maybe it’s time to cut them loose. Keep the place to yourself for a while.”

“Yeah, maybe. It’s nice having that income to pay the property taxes, but we’ll see. I’ll reassess in a few months. Their lease is up in January, so maybe I won’t renew it. But I have to give them three months’ notice if I want them to leave.”

“Maybe by then we’ll both be ready for something new.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

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