Page 5 of Fluffed and Folded

Filled with other tenants who call you “my guy”: con.

In fact all the tenants were male, except the building’s owner, Darby, the lone female, who seemed exponentially hotter in comparison, like some kind of water in the desert scenario. Eli had been privy to a lot of conversations about her from the other men in the building. Not that he’d partaken. He determined immediately she wasn’t his type and therefore didn’t indulge in the blatant flirting, gut sucking, and bicep bulging that went on whenever she happened past her other tenants.

“Nah, just catching some sun,” Eli answered Mack, a dentist who took a proprietary interest in Eli’s teeth. It was uncomfortable how many conversations they’d had on the topic. In fact Mack had offered to do the braces himself before Eli found an actual orthodontist, something Mack had strong feelings about.Think they’re so cool. They’re just metal brackets, man. Anyone can glue ‘em on.

That may be so, but Eli had waited nearly thirty years to afford them; he wanted to be certain his money bought him the best, not a backroom deal with his shady neighbor. Since refusing Mack’s offer, things had been a bit strained between them. Eli wasn’t certain if he was relieved or stressed over this latest bout of friendliness.

“How are the teeth?” Mack asked, trying to peer into Eli’s mouth as he asked the question. It felt a little indecent, that attempted peep, like Mack was trying to see his teeth naked.

“You know, good,” Eli said. He cupped his lips over his teeth, which saved them from Mack’s uninvited inspection but also sliced the tender insides of his lips on the sharp metal brackets.

“Hmm,” Mack said, giving him a cool side eye as he glanced away and toward the pool.

“What up, my bruthas?” Another tenant, Anthony, entered the chat and sat on one of the lawn chairs.

“What up?” Mack returned, bumping Anthony’s outstretched fist. Neither man extended a fist to Eli, and he wondered if they somehow sensed that he was the kind of person who had never uttered the words “what up” or “my brutha” in his life. Because he hadn’t, and he didn’t plan to start this day.

“We were talking about his teeth,” Mack said, pointing to Eli.

“As one does, with casual acquaintances, while sitting poolside,” Eli added, but both men stared at him, not seeing the humor.

“He got braces,” Mack continued undaunted to Anthony, after a few confused blinks at Eli.

Anthony snickered, because of course. “I had those when I was twelve.”

Eli tried to think of a devastating rejoinder, maybe something he possessed at twelve that Anthony didn’t, but he couldn’t think of anything. “Common sense” didn’t seem like much of a putdown, especially if Anthony was still lacking which, if the fact that he now wore a Speedo was any indication, seemed to be the case. He was about to take his leave when their landlord exited her apartment and walked across the courtyard to the laundry room.

“Oh, man,” Mack said weakly.

“Smokin’,” Anthony agreed, picking a Speedo-induced wedgie.

I wish I could unsee that,Eli thought, regarding the wedgie, not Darby. He tried to give her as little notice as she gave him, not that it was possible. She seemed to look through him, like maybe he was a ghost who haunted her apartments and if she didn’t actually see him, he would go away. It irked him a little, her complete and utter dismissal. Even if he wasn’t interested in her, which he wasn’t, being so easily ignored and forgotten poked at all the old insecurities, and maybe some new ones that had come from being a grown man with braces.

“Where you going?” Mack regarded him as he stood and turned toward the laundry room.

“He’s shooting his shot,” Anthony accused, picking another wedgie. Did it ever occur to him to wear more than a quarter pair of underpants? It should, it really, really should.

“I’m getting my laundry,” Eli said easily.

“Convenient timing,” Mack said, tipping his head toward the laundry room as if to remind Eli that Darby was now there.

“Not really, I’ve been roasting out here, waiting for it to finish,” Eli said easily, unwilling to rise to their goading. Just because every other man in the building lusted after Darby didn’t mean he wanted to join their ranks. No thank you. He preferred to be rejected the old fashioned way, by paying large sums of money to a computer dating service for the privilege.

“Whatever, man. Enjoy the crash and burn,” Anthony said. Eli refused to look, in case another wedgie was imminent, but judging by the way the lawn chair squeaked ominously under his weight, he guessed it was picking time again. What if he sent him a pair of swim trunks anonymously? Would he wear them? It would be worth the thirty bucks to save everyone’s burning retinas. No one needed to see a neon orange Speedo go to infinity and beyond.

Aiming for complete nonchalance, Eli entered the laundry room and saw Darby staring listlessly at the swirling dryer.

“Do you take in laundry for others?” Eli asked her.

She whirled at him, eyes flicking with attempted recognition that failed and returned to blankness. “What?”

Eli pointed to the dryer. “You do a lot of laundry, and you’re only one person. I wondered if maybe you take in laundry for others, like a Victorian Irish washer woman which, now that I’ve said it as a joke, realize sounds unusually cruel and stuck up. There’s nothing wrong with doing laundry for a living. It’s a noble profession, a noble profession, indeed.” Was it odd to notice how much laundry she did? Probably not as odd as calling a Victorian washer woman a noble profession while nodding sagely, but too late to try and cover now. He shifted a little, trying not to look defiant. He could notice her laundry; it didn’t mean he was checking her out. Merely that he was observant, which he was. Not a creepy lurker, merely intelligent enough to count the trips back and forth to the laundry. And then comment on them, while hailing the Irish potato famine as a reference.I’ve still got it,he assured himself, remembering the time he tried to flirt with a girl in high school and sprained his ankle on a banjo. They say it gets better after high school. In Eli’s case that apparently meant there were fewer bluegrass instruments lying around to wound him.

“I like things to be clean,” Darby said vaguely, before narrowing her gaze on him in suspicion. “Do you live here?”

“For two years,” Eli said, trying hard to tamp down his frustration. It wasn’t as if they were friends, but they’d had multiple versions of this inane conversation, had exchanged plenty of small talk over the years. Did she really think so much of herself that she didn’t even know who her tenants were?

To make matters worse, Darby pointed to his face and said, “You’re drooling.”

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