Page 10 of Silver Linings
“Pine trees?” Confusion laces Tony’s voice.
“Never mind. I want to go shower, but when the new maintenance guy gets in today, can you send him up? I’ll be home for a while before work.”
“Sure thing. I’ll fill out the request for you. He should be here around eight.”
I quickly thank him before making my way back onto the elevator to the pond of doom residing on my bed.
Around a half hour later, I’m still in the shower when there’s a loud rap on my front door.
I thought I had more time. I wasn’t expecting the maintenance man until closer to eight, and a glance at my phone sitting on the bathroom sink tells me it’s only a quarter past seven in the morning. I scramble to finish rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, running my hands through my pale blonde strands to make sure I don’t leave any residue behind.
I’m twisting the excess water out of my hair when I hear another, much louder, knock on the door.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” I shuffle around my bathroom floor, looking for my robe that has mysteriously disappeared.
I can’t possibly answer the door in just a towel and meet the new guy half-naked. That would not make a good first impression, and Ineedto make a good impression.
The thing about maintenance technicians is, you really,reallywant to get on their good side. They can make or break if you have an easy time living in your building. They are the one lone soldier you have between yourself and any issue that comes your way. If they don’t like you, you arefuckedin any non-emergency situation. Leaky faucet? It’ll get fixed in three to six months. A light’s gone out in the fixture you can’t reach on the ceiling? I hope you enjoy living in darkness.Forever.
They are season six, episode nine, Jon Snow during the Battle of the Bastards scene standing down an army horde of rats waiting to eat your face off in the middle of the night. That’s not dramatic, it’s just a fact. Maintenance techs are the end all, be all of easy living.
The knocking has progressed to a curt bang, I have not found my robe, and I am out of time.
I jog over to the door, water dripping from my hair down onto my neck as I clutch my towel to my chest. I rip open the door before he can knock again, or worse—leave.
“I’m so sor–” All the words fly out of my mouth as I stare up, mouth gaping like a fish atthe one that got away.
He’s staring down at me in what seems to be abject horror. Silent. So silent. His gaze slowly coasts over my face, down to where my hand clutches the towel closed over my chest. His gaze snaps back up to my face quickly, and he seems… I’m not sure. Irritated, maybe? Shit. I can’t get on his bad side. I already ruined his shoes. I’m at a disadvantage.
“You.” His voice drips with definitive displeasure.
“You.” My voice is laced with a flirtation that’s second nature.
We’re in a standoff, staring at each other in disbelief. I’m just about to invite him in when he brusquely clears his throat. “Can you show me the problem?”
“Problem?” I’m still in disbelief that he’s in front of me. The universe has dropped this delectable morsel into my lap for a second time, and I intend to do something about it.
He stares behind me into my apartment like there’s a hidden mine field to navigate.
“Of course! Come in.” I step aside to let him pass. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to answer the door. I wasn’t expecting you this early, so I hopped in the shower,” I gesture to my towel, “and didn’t hear you knocking.”
He remains silent and just gives me a nod.
I lead us into my bedroom, and he stops dead in the doorway when he surveys the damage. “I’m just going to go put some clothes on while you start looking into all of…that.” I gesture to the bed, the heap of towels covered in ceiling debris and the trash can catching stray drops.
I walk to my dresser to grab a pair of pink denim shorts covered in watermelons and a white tank top before popping into the bathroom to change. I’m towel drying my hair when I hear him talking to himself.
“You have got to be kidding me,”followed by, “this is not good,”and a few expletives thrown in for extra flavor.
I chuckle. “Are you alright?”
I get no response, so I brush out my hair, giving it a scrunch with the towel before I step back into the bedroom. He’s standing there with his hands clasped behind his neck, looking not at the damage, but at my armchair to the left of the bed. It’s clear he hasn’t heard me, because his gaze is zeroed in on the corner of my room, his jaw clenching. Following his line of sight, I realized that in my derailed morning, I didn’t think to pick up my apartment before he came by.
My new maintenance man is staring directly at my bright red,veryscandalous panties draped over the arm of my reading chair.
I make no move to hide them from his view, taking sick delight in the fact that he’s getting a little flustered. “Mr. Wells?”
He flicks his gaze toward me. “It’s Hendrix.”
