Just Joe ~ Jen Luerssen

by Luerssen, Jen

  Me: Did you see what Donovan did today?

  Bestie: OMG, yes. He is a sick mother.

  Me: Man, I wish he was my dad sometimes.

  Bestie: He isn’t? The way you guys act I thought he was.

  Me: Oh no, Bestie, I’m going to make you sad.

  Bestie: Crap, did I say something wrong?

  Me: No, both of my parents passed away years ago when I was 21.

  Bestie: Joe, I’m so sorry.

  Me: I know, it was traumatic but forced me to grow up and take care of my bro.

  Bestie: Oh shit, this is you grown up?

  Me: This is me being my best self. Don’t hate.

  Bestie: You are like no one else I know, that’s for sure.

  Me: Compliments!!!

  Bestie: Pretty sure it’s only one compliment, and maybe a backhanded one at that.

  Me: I’ll take it from my new best friend.

  Bestie: How does your actual best friend feel about it?

  Me: Oh, Fucking Frank? Let’s not tell him, he will be too sad.

  Bestie: Your best friend’s name is ‘Fucking Frank?’

  Me: Yeah, he’s sensitive about me and our friendship though, so let’s keep our BFF status on the DL.

  Bestie: My lips are sealed.

  Me: I know it’ll be hard for you but it’s for the best.

  Betsy’s house is a shit show but we’ve made a lot of progress, especially with the wiring and plumbing. I tell Betsy we have to get into her room soon because that corner is making me nervous.

  Me: Bad news, B. We need to get into that corner in your room today.

  Bestie: Ok, I’ll make sure to put a tarp on my stuff and shove it to the opposite corner.

  Me: You are so amazing.

  Bestie: Eyeroll . . . save it.

  Me: I always do.

  Bestie: What does that even mean? Never mind.

  Me: ;)

  Bestie: Please stop winking at me. Via text and IRL. It’s annoying.

  Me: Fine, I am a master winker though.

  Bestie: That’s definitely not a thing.

  Me: It is.

  Bestie: Sigh, I have to get to work.

  Me: You’re so smart and dedicated.

  Bestie: Thank you, Joe. I’m still not telling you.

  When I get to see her, we immediately fall into our teasing banter. It’s not much different from other clients I’ve had in the past. Some need me to be professional only and some have become good friends. You can tell within a few minutes whether you have the go-ahead to be overtly friendly. Betsy and I are friendly, she wouldn’t admit we are friends—yet.

  “Hey, Bestie, looking good. Did you use the tarp yet?” I ask her, as she looks at the wiring work Pedro did in the front parlor yesterday.

  “This room is going to be my favorite, I can already tell. The windows, the fireplace, I’m going to read all the books in this room,” she says with a happy look on her face. That’s the goal, giving people their dream home. It makes it more fun when they really care about the end product as it will affect their lives, not how other people, or 7X7 Magazine sees it. “Yes, I put the tarp out. How do you make an innuendo about a sheet of plastic?”

  “It’s my own special talent,” I say and hold in the wink I was going to lay on her.

  She bends over with laughter. “Oh my god, Joe, your face when you’re trying not to wink, is priceless. Don’t hurt yourself over there, buddy.”

  “You’re the only one causing me any pain, Ms. Carter. I agree. This room is going to be amazing for you to read all your porny books in,” I say and turn away from her so I can wink in private. I can’t help it.

  I feel her warmth behind me. “Did you just wink at my fireplace?”

  “That’s between me and him,” I reply and lean back a little and she knocks her shoulder to mine.

  “Get to work you objectum sexual,” she says with a squeeze to my bicep which I flex automatically.

  “What’s an objectum sexual?” I ask.

  She laughs as she heads out the front door for her day. “Google it.”

  I do and spend way too long reading about a lady who is in love with a roller coaster.

  * * *

  I have bad news for Betsy and I’m not looking forward to delivering it. Marisol and I tore out that corner of her room and it’s bad. There’s a leak there and a lot of nasty black mold. We have been wearing breathing masks this week anyway but now I’m worried Betsy may have not been protected the way I want. We remove most of the wall and then are forced to move Betsy’s things to the front room. The bad news I have to tell her is that she can’t live here. We have to have the mold remediated and removed, find the leak, and then replace any rotted or damaged wood in the structure.

  I have an idea but I’m not sure if she’ll go for it. I mean, we are friends, but it may be too a little bit too soon and too weird. I text her as we leave her home, all of her things packed into my truck.

  Me: Hey Bestie, can you meet me for tacos in an hour? Los Altos?

  Bestie: Um, are you asking me out? Did you not Google objectum sexual?

  Me: Hardy har har, I did and trust me I like my sexual partners to be alive and human. Although, the lady in love with a roller coaster seems happy. Not a date, but I like your enthusiasm. We need to talk and I thought tacos might ease the bad news.

  Bestie: Now I’m nervous.

  Me: Just meet me and we’ll work it out.

  Bestie: I need to be at my other job by 9 but I’ll meet you in 30.

  Me: Come straight here, do not go home.

  Bestie: Now I’m dying, did my house get fire-bombed?

  Me: Not that bad, can I pick you up from work?

  Bestie: Nah, it’s a quick bus ride I’m leaving now, you’re already there?

  Me: Yep, I’ll be the hot guy with the beer.

  She bursts through the door looking harried, looking for me. She finds me and beelines over.

  “Why are all of my things in your truck?” she asks, breathlessly.

  I stand, pull her into a hug and rub her back. “Take a breath, Bets. Then sit, I’ll order you a beer and we will chat.”

  She does what I say and when she sits, I order her a Pacifico and chips and salsa. Once she’s taken a swig of beer and eaten a few chips, I go for it.

  “We found mold and rot in the back room, your house is inhabitable for a few weeks, and all of your things are in my truck because you’re coming home with me,” I say all in one breath, looking directly at her. Her face pales and then looks incredulous at the end.

  “I’m going home with you, am I?” she asks and I nod. “So, it’s that bad that you had to pack all my stuff? You couldn’t wait for me to get there to do it?”

  “I’m already upset about the fact that you have been living there without a breathing mask. We’ve been wearing them all through demo and restructuring. You’ve been exposed to the mold too long. I don’t want you back there unless you have a mask or the mold is all gone.” She is fidgeting and I know she’s going to try to talk me out of her living with me and Jack for a few weeks. “I’m offering you my guest room because you are my friend, and I feel bad for not finding the mold sooner when I knew it was a possibility. Unless you have family or a friend to stay with? I was assuming you didn’t since you were sticking it out in that sad ass room.”

  Her eyes narrow at me. “It wasn’t sad. You’re right though. My parents live in Ohio and I’m too old to couch surf. I don’t have any friends with a guest room. This is San Francisco for fuck’s sake.”

  “Which is why I am offering you our fabulous guest room. It’s the least I can do, especially if you bring your amazing coffee making skills.”

  She runs her hands through her hair which is down today in a riot of blue around her face. “This is probably the craziest thing I’ve done, but yes. I accept you and your guest room offer. I’m a realist and I could probably swing an Air BNB but if you’re offering and it’s livable, I’ll take it but I insist on paying
rent.”

  “Wow, I thought I was going to have to do more convincing. Awesome, now let’s order and then we can get you settled in Casa Davis.” I hold my hand up to high five.

  She high fives me and shakes her head. “Dude, I’d be an idiot to pass up your offer. Although, I’m assuming this is a relatively neat house, with Wi-Fi?”

  I put my hand to my chest and give her a look if horror. “Please, our home is a masterpiece and the Wi-Fi is the strongest in the land.”

  We eat and chat and I feel her tension easing a little. I do my very best to try to make her laugh but not come on too strong. I’ll save that for once she’s comfortable.

  “You ready?” I ask extending my hand to help her up.

  She nods and takes my offer. When she stands, we are almost nose to nose. “I’m completely not ready to live with you, Joe Davis. Let’s do this.”

  Just Move In

  IT DOESN’T ESCAPE ME THAT I’ve said ‘our’ every time I mention my home and Betsy has not brought it up. Maybe she thinks I have roommates or maybe she’s grilled Don or Marisol about me. It tickles me to think that she’d ask others about me so I’m going with that one. I’ve mentioned Jack to her but who knows what she remembers.

  We pull into my small garage that barely fits the truck and I close the door by hand. She follows me to the back of the truck ready to help unload.

  “I’m blown away that you guys were so considerate to pack up my things. I know they were mostly compact and ready to go, but still. Thank you.”

  I shrug. “You see it as considerate and I see it as an opportunity to peruse your underwear. I’m not going to lie, Bestie, your underwear rocks.”

  She shakes her head at me. “My underthings better rock, I’ve spent a small fortune on them. How about you let me do the unpacking?”

  “Fair enough.” We unload some things from the truck and I show her to the guest room.

  “Wow, Joe, I have to apologize. This house is not what I was expecting.”

  “What were you expecting? A sleek bachelor lair? A frat boy hovel?”

  “A combo of those things? I know, I’m horrible to judge you in that way. I’ve seen other homes you and your company have worked on, not sure why I expected you to not have worked that magic on your own home. Can I see the rest?”

  I dramatically bow. “All is forgiven, follow me this way.” I turn and head to the kitchen where we came in from the garage. “This is the kitchen, our favorite place to hang out. Nary a butcher block in sight. We cook sometimes, but there are a lot of nights of pizza, tacos, and burritos, I won’t lie.” I turn to the glass sliding doors by the dining room and take her outside. It’s a cool night as usual but I’m most proud of our outdoor space. “Here is the grill master domain, our outdoor dining experience, and hot tub.”

  “Now this is more like what I was expecting, bachelor pad style.” She punches me in the arm and I flex.

  We slide back into the kitchen and dining area and I give her a full cheesy smile and wink. “Jack and I try to go for subtlety.”

  She bends over in laughter. “Oh shit, do you actually believe anything about you is subtle?”

  I shrug. “So, are you going to insult me the entire time you’re living in my house, rent-free?”

  Her hand goes to my arm again and I’m not hating it and I flex again. What? My guns are my one of my best qualities. “Joe, you are taking rent. I’m surprised how much I’m looking forward to the next few weeks living here. You don’t need to flex your arm every time I touch it though. I get it, you work out.”

  “Don’t I?” I ask and do everything in my power to not wink.

  We move our way around the rest of the house, me showing off all the work Jack and I did. When we head up to the bedrooms, I get a little nervous. I really want her to like my space. If I’m being honest, I really want her to like me. I show her my music room first. This room holds all of my instruments, three guitars, a piano, a drum set, and some recording equipment. The walls are lined with Fillmore posters from shows I’ve been to and one special one from the time we played there opening for Florence and the Machine as the local act.

  “This has to be your favorite room in the house. I didn’t know you were a musician,” she says gesturing to my guitars.

  “That’s my true passion, music. Before my parents passed, I was set to make it my life. It’s still a huge part of me, but I had to make adjustments.”

  “Your brother?” she asks.

  “Yeah, and it’s been worth it. He’s a kick-ass person and I would have done anything for that result. Even give up my dream of being a full-time musician and producer. I play in a fairly successful local band and that sates my desire well enough. Jack started college this year, and my business is running well. My hope is I’ll be able to dedicate more time to music. My friends think it’s time for me to finally settle down as well.” I say this last part half seriously. I mean, I told Frank I’d try to date but it’s been a challenge to find someone that would fit into my life.

  “Settle down, huh? Seems like you were settled for the past twelve years. Did you not date at all?”

  “Right to the juicy stuff, Bets?” She shrugs, not looking sorry she asked. “Well, I dabbled here and there but mostly just hooked up. At first, it was a lot for me to handle. I don’t think I could have accommodated a girlfriend and a 2nd grader in my life. Especially one who was devastated after the loss of his parents.”

  “Might have been nice to have had someone to take care of you, though. I’m sure you were just as devastated.” She takes my hand and squeezes it.

  “I was lucky I had Frank and Sebastian and their moms to support me. I would have been even more of a disaster without them.” I squeeze her hand back and drop it. “All of my focus was on Jack and so no time for the ladies.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” She eyes me and I’m overjoyed she thinks I’m hot. “You seem like you’d be unable to at least have hook-ups if not a full-blown relationship.”

  “I think I convinced myself I couldn’t handle both. Yeah, I had an occasional hook-up, I’m no saint, and how could I deprive women of all this,” I say my hand sweeping over my body. “Now that Jack is grown, Frank made me promise to try to find a woman for more than one night. I had a lot of fun this summer in Sonoma and I don’t know, it all felt lacking. I’ve always either had short-term flings or friendships with women. I guess I’d like to combine the two.” I raise my shoulders. “What about you, Bestie?” I ask changing the subject. “What’s your passion?”

  “Dancing,” she says without hesitation, her beautiful face shining. “I grew up in a very conservative household and my parents took me to ballet lessons, but I always wanted to take hip-hop or even jazz, and they forbade it. I’d lock myself in my room and dance with headphones to old school hip-hop and then I’d do more expressive dancing to Chevelle or Massive Attack. My dad, who is a pastor, by the way, caught me one day and took all of my music away. Worst two weeks of my life.”

  My mind is blown, this is the most information I’ve gotten from her about her life. We are turning a corner and are becoming real friends. I feel a twinge of regret, putting her into a friend category. “Dancing?” I ask and she nods enthusiastically. “How do you fit that into your tech life?” As I say this, it occurs to me that she looks more like a creative person, than a buttoned-up business person. It also explains finding her in odd positions with loud music playing. “Wait, do the spectacular undergarments have anything to do with your dancing?” I ask, eyes wide.

  She stands up straighter. “Yes, Joe, your ‘best friend’ is a naughty type of dancer.” She makes air quotes around best friend and it’s a shot to the heart.

  “You’re a stripper?” I ask.

  She pushes me. “NO!” she shouts. “I’m not a fucking stripper, I’m a burlesque dancer at Lady Marmalade. Most definitely not a stripper.”

  “Okay, fancy pants, a burlesque dancer, I can see that about you. Does that mean you take your
clothes off when you dance, but just classier and old-timey?”

  “Fuck you, and yes. It’s an art though, it’s all about the tease, not the nudity. You should come see us, bring your band.” She runs her hand down the front of her long cardigan and parts it slowly, showing a glimpse of the red lacy camisole underneath. I clear my throat and feel a little hot as she bares her cleavage with all those beautiful lilies and irises calling my name.

  “Whoa, bro, is this our new roomie?” Jack says from behind me. I both hate him and love him for interrupting. I was having a difficult time breathing and my dick was feeling confined in his jean space.

  Betsy closes her cardigan and smiles. “You must be Jack, I’m Betsy. Thank you so much for letting me stay.”

  Jack takes her hand and instead of shaking it he kisses it. I roll my eyes. “Betsy, you are more than welcome. You can’t imagine how boring it is with old Joe here. I can already tell this is going to be a fun few weeks.”

  “Take it down a notch, Jackie boy. Betsy is our friend, not someone to make feel uncomfortable. You’re just barely legal and I’m sure she likes older dudes anyway.” I nudge him away from Betsy and she looks amused.

  “Want to see my room?” he asks Betsy and she nods.

  “Am I still here?” I ask to no one since they’ve already disappeared down the hall.

  Jack’s room is a comic book nerd’s wet dream. He’s a talented illustrator and I’ve given him license to decorate his room, including the walls as he sees fit. The result being a whole wall of X-Men, another a desolate space landscape, and over his bed is Black Widow standing legs wide, arms at her side holding pistols. He has shelves full of comics, figurines, and graphic novels.

  “This is amazing,” Betsy comments on the X-Men. “I’ve been Jean Grey for Halloween more times than I can count.”

  “With that hair, you’d make an even better Storm or Rogue,” Jack says.

  “Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment. Did you do these illustrations?”

  “Yes, all of these are mine. My dream is to illustrate comics, but I am also studying animation for video games.” Jack says.