Page 32 of Big Britches
When she returned, Pedro had cleared much of the loosened dried gunk with his fingernails. He used the brush to remove the remaining residue before lubing it back up and attaching the new trap. “I’m surprised you could find the right parts. All this stuff is so old and outdated.”
“Tell me about it.” She sat down at the table while he worked. “I had to order those too… from Stanley’s. That prick. Don’t get me started.”
“Smells like mildew in here.”
“Yeah. I tried to tell myself I was imagining it. Another thing to add to my never-ending punch list.”
After a few minutes of clanks and occasional grunts, there came a triumphant sigh. “All done,” Pedro said, emerging from the cabinet, face and chest covered in dust and detritus.
“Bravo! You’re a godsend. Let me make you a cup of coffee.”
“Just water, please. When you were at Stanley’s, did you think to get some plumber’s putty?”
“No. I had no idea there was such a thing.”
“He didn’t tell you? It’s a freaking hardware store. Don’t they want to make money?” Pedro turned, brushing himself off into the sink. “The drain is loose from all the jostling. Easy fix. I’ll pick some up tomorrow. You don’t see metal pipes much anymore. Almost everything is PVC these days.”
“Thank you. And thank you for going back to Stanley’s for me. If I have to deal with his patronizing one more time–”
“He’s trying to sell you a service, isn’t he? Stanley thinks women can’t do the job. He’s wrong. You were doing things just fine under there. If I hadn’t shown up, you would’ve figured it all out.”
“He’s worse than a used car salesman.” Barb stood, reaching for a dish towel and wiping the remaining dust from Pedro’s cheeks. “He was trying to push a contractor on me. Sixty-five dollars an hour… and if that wasn’t bad enough–”
“He was flirting with you.”
“You’re very intuitive.”
“So I’m told. Doesn’t he know your taste lies with the fairer sex?”
“Oh, he knows. He sees it as a challenge.” Barb reached into the cabinet for a clean glass. “Stanley thinks he’s got a magic wand. All he has to do is wave it and I will fall madly in love with him.”
“Lust is more like it—on his part, anyway. That’s quite the image you painted there, though. Magic wand? I’m gonna have a hard time shaking it when I see him tomorrow.”
“Honestly–” Barb handed Pedro the glass of water and turned to the coffeemaker. “Why can’t things be easier? Why should I be subject to the notions of Neanderthals? Why can’t I just pick up my phone and request instructions for do-it-yourself plumbing? Maybe order the parts that way, too. I had to wait three weeks for that book to come from QPBC.”
“There’s always the library.”
“Ha!” Barb said. “And you think that plumbing is outdated.”
He reached for the open box on the table. It was from the Quality Paperback Book Club. “Did the Capote books come?”
“They did.” She joined him at the table as the soft purring of the drip coffee maker began. “Have you finished Rebecca yet?”
“Not quite. Almost.”
“Me too. Are you dreaming of Manderley? Being tormented by that old lesbian Mrs. Danvers?”
Pedro gave an emphatic half-whistle, half-sigh. “Both… and I suspect the latter is the subject of many term papers.”
Barb and Pedro’s passion for literature had led them to create their own little reading group–little, meaning the two of them only. With QPBC, they had discovered Triangle Classics–an imprint specific to queer-centric works of the past. Now, via mail order, the two of them were furthering their literary indulgences together, gathering loose threads of educational pursuits both had abandoned.
“How deep do you think her obsession goes? Never mind. I’ll shut up. We’ll have plenty to talk about for Sunday breakfast.”
“For sure.” Pedro lifted one of two copies of Other Voices, Other Rooms by Truman Capote, from the open box on the table. “I’m really looking forward to this one.”
“Me too. Check out that picture of him on the back. He was so young, so–”
“Sexy,” Pedro finished. “Never thought I’d say that, especially after seeing what booze and drugs did to him.”