Page 2 of Boyfriend Maintenance

“That’s right, ease it in. You gotta ease it in so it fits … just right.”

So, she isn’t saying these things in a sexual context, but damn. That’s a lot of “what she said” jokes ready and waiting to be thrown out there.

“What’s that?” I ask, coming to a stop next to her.

She jumps and her hand flies to her heart. She didn’t realize I was home. “Ack! Em, what are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

I can’t tell what these guys just pushed in to our apartment. Whatever it is, it’s huge and I doubt she’s had it approved by management.

She places her hands on her hips and laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, I know. But what are you doing here right now? I thought you had to work late.”

“Oh, yeah, they canceled my last meeting of the day, so I was able to get my work done.”

Nodding, she looks back to the men, telling them to put it next to the wall, in the far corner of the room, she turns back to me with the biggest smile on her face.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh yeah? That thing?” I point to the machine.

“Yes, you know that childhood dream of yours?” Both of the men step back and admire their work.

“The dream where I become a pop princess and marry Justin Timberlake. Joey Fatone officiates our wedding, everyone chuckles throughout because it’s the most entertaining ceremony everyone has ever been to?”

“No, the other, more attainable one.” She turns to thank the men and follows them to the door to let them out.

Then it hits me.

“The one where I have a real, found-in-arcades-everywhere, Skee-Ball machine in my living room?”

She’s nodding vigorously through a smile and clapping her hands in front of her chest.

I take a step, zeroing in on the giant, wrapped-up arcade game. “But how? Why? How much did this puppy cost?”

“I set up an alert a few months ago for a used one in good shape. This one came from a local arcade that is closing. So, I got a great deal on it. And as for why, it’s simple. I love you and you’ve always wanted a Skee-Ball machine. I know you’ll never buy one for yourself, so I’m doing it for you. I’m also like ninety-nine percent sure we aren’t allowed to have this, so you can’t tell anyone. I snuck it up here.”

A moment later she's standing next to me with a pair of scissors, cutting away the thick plastic wrap. When we have it plugged into the wall, I pick up the brown, faux-wood ball. It fits perfectly in my hand, the cool plastic feel of the ball reminds me of Becca’s earlier words, the ones I overheard in the hall. Chuckling, I roll the ball down the alley and it lands in the center fifty-point slot.

Hell yeah, that feels good.

Chapter 2

Jake

“Oh, well … hello there, hot stuff.”Mrs. Jenkins stands in the open doorway of her apartment. Her arm slides up the doorframe slightly awkwardly as she leans into the frame. She’s attempting to look sexy in a Japanese silk kimono robe. It’s a red floral print that hangs nearly to her ankles. She has surprisingly good posture for a seventy-year-old woman.

Her husky voice is seductive as she gestures for me to come in. I have to mentally prepare myself every time I have a work order for unit 2007. Which is normally once a week.

Mrs. Jenkins is a retired Broadway actress. She hit her stride when she starred in the hit musicalChicagoin the mid-seventies. Dorthy Jenkins is a dramatic, wealthy retiree who just happens to hit on me every time I’m here. She may be a tad lonely, so I deal with it.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jenkins. My work order says that you’ve got faulty smoke detectors.” Honestly, that seems a bit suspicious since we worked through the entire building updating the detectors less than six months ago.

“Dorthy, darling. Please, stop calling me Mrs. Jenkins. You make me feel like a cougar.”

I raise my eyebrow at that. More like a puma since she’s got to be at least forty years older than me. I set down my toolbox and scan the living room for the unit’s central detector.

“All right, Dorthy. You’re having issues with the smoke detectors? Let’s just take a look. I’ll get these fixed up in no time.” Really, I just want to get out of here. The longer I’m in this apartment, the more cheek pinches I get. And I’m not just talking about pinches to my face. She gets a little bolder with each visit. Not looking forward to the day she takes it too far. Her flirting seems harmless though. She just really appreciates those “hot young thangs.” Her words, not mine.

---