Mr. Fixit

by Lauren Landish

  While I look like a sweet little girl and I’ve added quite a few layers of girliness on top of the tomboy I used to be, I can still get down and dirty when it’s warranted. Caleb, of all people, should know that. And he goes and treats me like this? As I close the distance, I get a little louder than maybe I should be. “What the fuck, Caleb? You couldn’t just tell me you’d met someone?”

  Caleb turns, his eyes going wide as he’s startled to see me and my anger at first. He stammers for a moment before he recovers, trying to put another one of those heart melting smiles on his face. “Cassie? What–what are you talking about?”

  “Damn it, Caleb. I know we said casual, but I thought we were at least friends and you’d be nice about it when you started seeing someone. But you just dropped me like a piece of trash. I mean, ghosting me and acting all distant—that’s fine, I guess—but why not just tell me you’d met someone? I guess it doesn’t matter to you. You’re just on to the next one. Does Sportscar Blondie know you’re an asshole?”

  “Sportscar Blondie?” Caleb says, trying to play like he’s confused, like he doesn’t know exactly who the hell I’m talking about. “Cassie—”

  I’m not hearing it. I’m in full-on rage mode. “Don’t give me your shit, Caleb. You’ve got her lipstick all over you. Before you try the confused act, maybe wipe the fucking proof off?”

  He rubs at his face, trying to get the stain off but just smearing it more.

  Not that Caleb cares. He’s still trying to run his line. “Cassie, wait just a minute. You’ve got this all wrong. She’s not—”

  But my emotions are burning through me, and I’m yelling when I cut him off. “Just don’t. I know better. I damn well knew better than to fall in love with you. Just—fuck It. Send me a fucking t-shirt.”

  I turn, bolting away toward my car. I’m already pulling out when he catches up to me. He grabs at my door, but I’m already in reverse and his hand does little more than squeal as his fingers try and get a grip. I hear him yell, “Cassie!” at me as I peel out of the lot and speed away.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I whisper, choking on my own tears. I blink, desperate to get anywhere, my voice dropping to a harsh rasp. “The sun’ll come out . . . tomorrow . . . bet your . . .”

  Chapter 27

  Caleb

  I stare at the twin red lights of Cassie’s brakes as she runs a stop sign, not caring in her haste to get away from me. Luckily for her, downtown traffic is light at this time of day, but it just leaves me more confused.

  What the fuck just happened? Cassie was so pissed, and if anyone else had flipped their shit on me like that, I’d be running for the hills. But Cassie? God, she’s beautiful when her eyes are flashing fire and her cheeks are all pink with anger.

  The problem was, she caught me off-guard. I truly didn’t know what she was talking about when she began screaming at me in the middle of the sidewalk. Even now, as the pieces start to come together, I’m still feeling stunned. Sportscar Blondie . . . oh, sweet hell. Never, in all my life, have I run into a situation like this. If I weren’t in the middle of it, I’d swear it could never happen.

  The door to Mindy’s Place opens up, and Mindy peeks out the door, looking uncertain. “Uh, Caleb, everything all right out here?”

  I turn and realize that everyone inside is staring at me. The advantage of having big glass windows—you get a front-row seat to any streetside action. At least Mindy looks concerned, not just drama-mongering. I’m half tempted to spread my arms and ask the people staring at me if they’re not entertained. “No, I don’t think so, but what the fuck do I know?”

  Mindy, who’s always been sort of a sister to me since I started working with Oliver, comes closer. “Wanna talk?”

  “Nah, not right now,” I reply, trying to save what little scrap of dignity I have left. I shake my head, “Listen, I just gotta take care of some work. Tell Oli I’ll stop by later. I need to give him an update on the projects he’s got me working on and turn in my expense statement.”

  I wave an apologetic goodbye and hop in my truck. I want with every fiber of my being to chase Cassie down and demand that she tell me what the fuck just happened, but I don’t even know where she went. And I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. In addition to getting a delivery at my place for some supplies for Oliver’s properties, I’ve got another job today, and then this afternoon, I have to get out to Douglas Street to check that the porch crew finished their work correctly.

  I head to my house, calling Cassie multiple times, but it just goes to voicemail. I sit in the driveway at the house and text her as I wait for the delivery guy.

  Call Me. Now.

  When Cassie doesn’t text me back by the time the delivery guy and I have finished loading his stuff into the back of my truck, I shake my head and head off to work. I get the first job, a simple gutter cleaning for a young mother, finished quickly, giving her toddler a half-hearted fist bump before she waves goodbye. Oliver’s units are coming along well, and he’s going to have no problems getting them rented out when the university students start coming back, and with the little improvements he’s made, he’s going to be able to get even more profit out of them.

  After a quick lunch of grilled chicken breast salad, I head over to Douglas Street. As Cassie doesn’t respond to me, I become a man on a mission, working harder and faster, my emotions giving me an endless amount of energy. I ignore my tired body and let all of my mounting frustration out in my work, and it feels like I’m a Marvel Hero or something. I become . . . Handy-Man.

  I get all the cabinets installed, countertops and backsplash complete, and the appliances placed before I take a quick dinner break. If you can call it that—it’s just a couple of meal replacement bars I barely even taste as I chew them mechanically in order to have the energy to keep working. Apparently, confused and pissed is a good work mode for me.

  As I gnaw the last of my second bar, I check my phone again. Still no reply from Cassie. It’s well after dark and I don’t know what to do. She won’t answer my calls, so I decide to drive by her house. Yeah, maybe it’s a bit stalkery, but fuck, I need some answers. Grabbing my keys, I jump in my truck and head for her place, the radio off for once. I’m not in the mood for ‘happy’ music, and I don’t have the time to change out my playlist. Instead, I focus on Cassie and the deep desire inside me to see her, to explain what happened, and to let her know the truth.

  No dice. As I drive by her apartment, her car isn’t there and my mind whirls. Is she trying to keep busy like me? Usually, Oliver doesn’t keep Martha and Cassie this late, but then again, she might not be following normal protocol. I hope that’s all it is because the thought of her talking to another man makes my blood boil. It seems I’ve become a little possessive over Cassie . . . just like she obviously has over me.

  Fuck. I’m too riled up, and I used to know just the thing to calm me down. Once upon a time, I’d go grab a piece of ass for a quick pick-me-up, but the thought of that just turns my stomach. I haven’t been with anybody but Cassie in ages. Hell, even when I’ve jacked off, it’s been her in my mind every time.

  There’s really only one thing to do, so I go back to Douglas Street. At least working distracts my mind and tires me out, keeping me from driving all over town to hunt her down. When I get there, I take the time to load up a proper playlist for my mood, and as Nine Inch Nails and every other angry, confused piece of rock I can think of accompanies me, I spend all night—literally all night—working. I sand, I screw, I clean, and I varnish until it’s all done. My body argues with me, complaining every step of the way, begging for some relaxation after working all day. I ignore its complaints, and by the time the sun rises, the last bit of work is done. The only thing left to do is the exterior paint, which I hired a crew to take care of, and they’re coming in tomorrow . . . well, actually, today.

  I do a last walk-through, checking the details of every bit of my work. Floors, walls, ceilings, kitchen, bathrooms . . . yes, both full bathrooms and
the half last night, as my back and arms remind me. The gleaming chrome and steel fixtures are all watertight and won’t crack this side of a meteor strike. I made sure of it.

  I step outside, looking at the porch with its big support posts and painted deck. Once the exterior crew is done, it’s going to be a whole new house, nearly perfect. It just needs a finishing touch, and I know just the thing.

  “She was right,” I say, my exhaustion not disappearing but at least feeling justified as I look at the house. All this place needs is a fresh start. She saw its potential long before anyone else did. She felt it in her heart, knew how beautiful it could be, filling in all its defects, fixing its cracks, and ending with something greater than the sum of its parts. I think somehow, she did the same to me without my even realizing it. While I’ve been busy completing jobs on a list, just a regular old Mr. Fix-It, not looking at the big picture, she saw me. My brokenness. And while it wasn’t joint compound and a coat of paint, she fixed me. With her laughter, her joyful approach to life, her lightness . . . she fixed me. That thought settles into my bones, my heart, and I know it’s true. She might not have meant to, and I certainly didn’t mean to let her, but she’s done what I thought no one would ever do. She’s made me want to love again, to dream and to hope that there is someone for me, after all.

  With a snap of my fingers, I know what I need to do now. I head through the house, determined to be at Home Depot as soon as they open, but before I can get to my truck, a familiar silver-gray Lexus pulls around and Oliver gets out, dressed for work. “Whoo, if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it,” he says, checking out the house. “I have to ask, though—what the hell are you doing here so early?”

  “Just wanted to get the insides finished up,” I reply, coming over. I stop a few feet away, smirking tiredly. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but I don’t think your expensive suit needs my funky ass anywhere near it.”

  Oliver chuckles, nodding in appreciation. “Okay. Well, can you show me the inside? I was hoping to get some photos up soon and get it listed. Didn’t expect it’d be this fast though.”

  I nod, a sudden flash of inspiration going through my head. “Of course.”

  We go inside, and Oliver looks through room after room in wonder. “Remember when I said that if I didn’t have my place I’d think of a place like this?” he says when we reach the master bedroom. “Check that. This place—I love it.”

  “It’s a hell of a home,” I agree.

  He turns and gives me a curious look. “You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to keep playing the coy guessing game?”

  I wince, rubbing at the back of my neck. “Mindy told you, huh?”

  “Well, Martha told me first,” Oliver replies. “She was upstairs and heard Cassie through the window. She got to watch the worst of it. Apparently, there was quite the show.”

  “Very funny,” I reply. I take a deep breath and tell Oliver the truth about what’s been going on between me and Cassie. After I get to yesterday’s incident, he whistles. “Yeah, so that’s all it is, man. I just need to talk to her to clear things up. Have you seen her?”

  “She’ll be in the office later today,” Oliver says. “Maybe you can talk to her when you come by to pick up your payment on the properties I’ve had you running around on?”

  “Actually, I had another idea,” I say, deciding to hell with it—I gotta jump in with both feet. “How would you like to save some money, get another property you can use for rent, and help me out?”

  Oliver has a twinkle in his eye. Maybe he’ll go for it. “I’m listening. What do you have in mind?”

  Chapter 28

  Cassie

  “Good morning,” I hear, rolling over on the big, fluffy sofa. I stayed at Mindy’s house last night after being unable to even think of going back to work after seeing Caleb with Sportscar Blondie. Instead, I spent the day driving in circles, and I even took a walk through the park, which ended up making me ugly cry at the memories of my runs with Caleb through there. When a lady dug in her purse and offered me a crushed up tissue, I figured I’d had enough and tapped out. I sent Martha a quick text, telling her I was taking a personal day, and fled the park before I lost total control.

  I was at least able to get control of myself in my car, taking deep breaths and listening to Roxy serenade me from my stereo. Thank God the girl sings more than love songs. When I was finally able to breathe without the intense need to hitch my breath and start sobbing again, I called Mindy from my car and asked if I could crash on their couch. She was totally cool about it, inviting me over to have dinner with the family.

  Dinner was almost surreal, as everything just seemed immensely normal. They didn’t say a word to me about Caleb. In fact, they didn’t talk about work at all. I’m sure Mindy told him what happened in front of the coffee shop, but they gave me space. The conversation was about their kids, Emily’s silly antics as she tried to take care of them, and their plans for their upcoming family vacation. It was wonderful to see, and I couldn’t help but crack a little smile at how wonderful their lives seem.

  Mindy left first thing in the morning, needing to get to the shop to open for the early morning coffee drinkers. Now I see Oliver adjusting his tie. “Hey,” I mutter sleepily, getting up. “Sorry, I’ll head for my place, get changed, and head to work.”

  “Chill out,” Oliver says, giving me a smile. “You stay as long as you need, and I don’t expect you in the office today. Martha and I can handle everything.”

  I lie back, smiling softly. “Mindy’s lucky she’s got you. And you're the best boss ever.”

  “I’ll remember that when I don’t give you a Christmas bonus or a raise next year,” he joked before patting me on the shoulder. “Relax, hang out with Emily today, maybe binge-watch something on Netflix.”

  After Oli left, I tried to sleep a little more but just tossed and turned on the sofa. I thought I’d get up, but apparently, I dropped back off, because I open my eyes to see Emily sitting on the floor, reading something on a Kindle.

  “Hey,” I reply, stretching. “How long have you been here?”

  Emily, who, as normal, is dressed in jeans and an anime t-shirt, chuckles. “About twenty minutes. Zach’s sleeping still, while Leah is coloring and Trent’s picking up his room.”

  I stretch again and sit up, ruffling my hair. “Good deal. So what’s on your mind for today?”

  “Just a normal day,” Emily says. “I’ll get Trent working on his pre-K stuff, and we’ll probably play outside for a while, stuff like that. You sticking around?”

  “I think I will,” I reply. “You got coffee?”

  “Pot’s in the kitchen, Mindy’s homebrew,” Emily replied. “It’ll be cold by now, but for getting your day going, it’ll do the trick.”

  Emily’s right, and a minute in the microwave doesn’t hurt the flavor too much. She follows me in as I raid the fridge, finding some cheese and a box of Ritz in the cupboard. “Hey, mind if I ask?” she says as I cut the cheese.

  “What’s that?” I reply.

  “I sort of saw what you were watching on Netflix,” Emily said. “You’re into reality shows?”

  I grin. It’s the last question I expected, but probably the one that I most need right now. “Yeah, one of my vices when I have the time. Don’t tell me you hate them and only watch stuff like that.” I nod toward her shirt, which has two fairies, three girls in ridiculous princess outfits, and a bunch of Japanese on it.

  Emily checks out her shirt, laughing. “No, I just wear stuff like this because the kids like it. Actually, I’m kind of a reality TV nut. I always tell myself I’m going to stop, and a few hours later, I’m still watching. Everything from The Bachelorette to American Ninja Warrior. You know that one?”

  “I know of it,” I reply. “Haven’t seen much, though.”

  Emily notices my reluctance and leans against the counter. “What’s going on? I mean, I know you don’t know me well. I’m not trying
to pry or anything.”

  I sulk, going over it all in my head, trying figure out where I went wrong. Finally, I answer. “I guess you could say it’s like reality TV. Like those ones where you know it has to be semi-scripted because of all the crazy shit everyone gets into?”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Emily says, smirking.

  “Imagine finding love in the most insane way possible. What would it be?”

  Emily thinks, then chuckles. “Well, I could be in a life or death struggle and fall in love with the enemy.”

  I snicker, then sigh. “Kinda like that. It wasn’t life or death, but it damn sure felt like it at the time. I met him on a beach that was straight out of a reality TV show. Then moving to town and being friends for nearly a year before something else happened.”

  “Caleb?” Emily asks, and I nod. “Last time I heard, you two were bumping uglies,” Emily says, holding up her hands when I give her a surprised look. “Sorry, I try to watch it around the kids, ya know? You might have the prettiest downstairs in the world, for all I know.”

  I laugh but then sigh a moment later. “Okay, probably safer. But yeah. I mean, like I said before, it was supposed to just be a casual thing. Some fun, stress relief, and hanging out. It . . . well, I guess I changed. I started getting feelings and I didn’t even realize it until it was too late.”

  “What happened?” Emily asks.

  “It really doesn’t matter much at this point,” I say softly. “He moved on like we both knew would happen eventually. I’ll be okay, but it feels like my heart is shattered. Not even broken, just dust.”

  Emily nods, letting me have a minute before replying. “If it helps, I kind of understand.”

  “Really?” I ask. “No bullsh—no bull?”