Page 62 of High Notes & Hail Marys

You:yowza

He hadn’t replied, but reacted to the message with a HAHA. You kind of want to print out the exchange and frame it, taping it over the duck pictures. But, alas, there’s no printer in the cabin. Reluctantly, you power your phone off and slip it into a drawer along with your underwear and swim shorts. You won’t be needing it for the next four days.

There’s a knock on the front door. Your bedroom is closest to the entrance, and you saw Steve heading out back. If you know your friends, that’s where Brant—“Brick,” as he’s lovingly nicknamed—is hanging out, and he’s probably rolled a few joints. The cabin has a strict no-smoking policy, but the screened porch is fair game.

You hustle to the door, assuming that it’s more of your buddies. Instead, it’s a stocky middle-aged guy with a mustache. He’s wearing a white polo shirt and khakis, with a safety vest and hard hat. There’s a camera hanging off a strap around his neck.

“Can I help you?” you ask politely. Nervously.

“Afternoon, sir. You the homeowner?”

“Uh, no.” You scratch your head. “It’s a vacation rental. I’m just visiting for the week.”

“That’s fine,” he says. “You the one whose name is on the contract?”

“Yup.”

“I’m with Withlacoochee River Electric Cooperative.” He flashes a badge attached to his belt with a clip. “Local power company. I’m guessing the homeowners didn’t tell you that they requested an energy audit for today?”

You stare at him blankly. “I had no idea.”

He laughs shortly. “Lots of homeowners ‘round these parts trying to cut back on their bills. Insurance rates through the roof. Are you okay with me doing the audit now? I just need to come in and take a few pictures.”

Torn between your inborn, default courtesy and bubbling irritation, you bite your lip. “Any way you’d be willing to reschedule, man? I don’t know about liability and all that, and I don’t really feel comfortable making that decision.”

The man smiles encouragingly. “Totally get it. Can I ask your name? Mine is John, by the way. JohnDeere.”

You squint. “Your name is… actuallyJohn Deere?”

He chuckles, and brandishes his badge again. “Swear to god. Check it out.”

Sure as shit, that’s the name on the tag, along with a matching picture.

“I’m Kai,” you say.

“Nice to meet you. Let me level with you, Kai. I could reschedule you, but my boss is going to be pissed. We have a tight schedule on these things, and we book out weeks in advance. I don’t do this audit, I don’t get paid. And the homeowners are going to get penalized. Automatic no-show fee charged to their next bill. I don’t want to see you get a nastygram from whomever the dumb hosts are. Clearly, they weren’t thinking about either you or me.”

Your cogs start turning as you run the mental calculus on your options. The guy seems nice. You don’t want to cost him any money. And you definitely don’t want beef with the cabin’s owners. All your friends aren’t even there yet.What’s the harm, really?

“How long will it take?” you hedge.

“Fifteen minutes, tops. And I’ll be out of your hair,” he says encouragingly.

You open the door wider, and admit him with a sweep of your hand.

“You go about your day,” John tells you. “Pretend I’m not here. Once I have my shots, I’ll collect a quick signature from you, and you won’t be bothered again.”

Nodding, you idly wonder if this is the kind of thing that warrants a lower rating on the booking site. You want to give the property owners a piece of your mind. On the other hand, they are clearly gun nuts. Maybe you’ll just suck it up.

John wanders off, and you have no sooner retreated to your room than there’s another knock. It’s Stetson and Eric, two more of the group. They are both still based in Tuscaloosa, and so they flew over together. Hugs and back-slaps are exchanged. By the time you’ve exchanged the essential pleasantries and shown them to one of the bedrooms, twenty minutes have flown by. You duck into the kitchen to grab a cold one, and John finds you there.

“All done, Mister Reinhart!” he says brightly. “I really do appreciate your help. Just sign here, and I’m outta here.”

He brandishes a small tablet and a stylus that were formerly attached to his belt with a holster.

You sign your name slowly.

“You know, John,” you say casually. “I didn’t tell you my last name.”

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