Page 57 of Salvage Him
The smellof dead critters and mildew assaulted my nose when we stepped inside. The wood floors were in good shape, but the baseboards and molding around the doors had rotted. It was a solid build, but nothing could withstand twenty years ofneglect.
We made a list of what we could salvage, use, and sell. We created a proposal for Mrs. Davenport to knock italldown.
Not that we needed to—she would have us take care of it anyway, but she preferred things official with contracts and invoices. I'd done work for her before and always gave her a discount, but she would pay the original price every time. She had more money than she could everspend.
As we surveyed the perimeter of the house, my vision of what could be wasn't far frommymind.
I stopped in the back. A huge oak tree with full branches shaded half thebackyard.
"I'm going to buy the lot,"Isaid.
Seth spun around so fast that he almost slipped intothepool.
"What?"
"Yeah. I'm going to buy it. Build that house Justin and Idesigned."
"Why?" Seth scrunchedhisface.
Ilaughed.
"Because I want that house, and I'm tired of living in a warehouse." Inodded.
"Dude, but the chicks love your place. They get visions of you dry humping your work bench to ‘My Pony’ and then humping them next." Seth gyratedhiships.
"As much as I love fulfilling woman'sMagic Mikefantasies"—I shook my head—"I'm getting too old for it. It's time tosettledown."
"With a particular someone?" Sethasked.
My jawtensed.
"Okay, okay, I won't mention it again." Sethbackedaway.
He jumped up on the back porch and walked into thehouse.
"I'm just saying," Seth sang out. "The timing is awfullyconvenient."
I shoved him, and he stumbled into thehouse.
Seth giggled and scooted out the front and down the porchsteps.
He was lucky I didn't throw him off thosesteps.
I took one last look at the property before getting into my car. I never thought about a house, a place of my own. I also never thought I would live in Highland Park, but something about this old neighborhood got in my gutsomehow.
It wouldn't be with Brooklyn, but someday, I wanted it—wife, kids, the whole thing—and we needed someplacetolive.
My father would be pleased. My family lived a few streets over. We had our issues, but I liked the idea of being close to them, my kids growing up near their grandparents. I had a fourteen-year-old little brother, and I could never bring him to my place. It was time for me to grow thefuckup.
I scrolled through my phone and found thenumber.
"Hello." His gruff voice sounded happy to hearfromme.
I smiled despitemyself.
"Hey, Dad. So I was thinking about buying some property in Highland Park? You at youroffice?"
"Yeah, stop by," he said, not bothering to hide the joy in hisvoice.
"I'll seeyousoon."
