Surreal Estate Page 3

  “I know it’s a lot, but we can do it.” I flashed her a grin that I hoped was more reassuring than nervous. “Don’t worry. I’ll text you if I think of anything else. Oh, and be careful with the finishes. It has to look quality, but I can’t afford to spend a lot on things people can’t see.”

  Kelly sighed. “High-end on a Walmart budget. Got it.” She turned toward the stairs and let out a squeak.

  Sasha had peeked up over the railing. “Sorry. Just wanted to let you know I’m here to get my stuff.”

  Seemed all the guy ever did was apologize for taking up space. Didn’t know why that bothered me, but it did. “No need to apologize. Sasha, this is Kelly, my intern.”

  Kelly closed the cover on her tablet and gave Sasha a look she never bothered to give me, and I fought to stifle a grin. “I know you. You’re in that band who used to play the college bars. You went to Marquette, right? I graduated last year. I thought I saw you around campus a few times.”

  Sasha’s cheeks reddened, and he averted his gaze uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah. I used to go there. I’m gonna get my bags now, Nick.”

  Sasha turned to leave, but Kelly wasn’t done with him. “I’m in grad school at Concordia. Interior design.”

  I had to admit I was curious about the guy. So when Kelly followed Sasha, I did too.

  “Do you still play?” Kelly asked, practically stepping on his heels. “I’d love to see you perform again.”

  Sasha entered his room and resumed the packing he’d begun the night before. There were two more ratty duffel bags on the floor beside the sleeping bags. “The band broke up.”

  Kelly did one of those flirty pouty things with her lips, but it was clearly lost on Sasha when he didn’t bother to glance her way. “That’s too bad. You guys were good.”

  “What kind of music?”

  “Alternative rock. Some pop,” she answered for him. “He has an amazing voice. Plays guitar too. You should’ve seen them do that song ‘Some Nights’ by Fun. They always ended their sets with it. He’d have the whole place rocking and singing along.”

  “Just a bunch of bullshit covers, mostly,” Sasha said, obviously uncomfortable with the praise.

  “Kelly, can you excuse us? I need to talk to Sasha.”

  Kelly shot me a hurt glare at the dismissal, but since I gave her so few direct orders, and she really needed me to give her a good evaluation for her course grade, she couldn’t exactly complain. She reached in her purse and withdrew one of the business cards she’d had printed up for her future interior design business, and held it out to Sasha. “Next time you play—anywhere—let me know.”

  My eyes caught on the way she allowed her finger tips to graze his hand as he took the card. For some reason, her blatant flirtation irritated me, but it appeared to be one-sided. Kelly strode out the door with a little extra swing in her step, but Sasha had already turned back to stuffing his clothes in a bag.

  Once she was gone, I cleared my throat. “A band, huh?”

  Sasha ignored the question, and I started again.

  “Did you find a place to stay?”

  He peered up at me from where he was kneeling on the floor. “Not really, but my manager said I can keep my things in the storeroom for a few days, until I come up with a plan.”

  “So you’re going to the shelter?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I’d never been inside a homeless shelter before, and in my mind, I pictured it like an Army barracks, but more crowded and dangerous. Something happens to men when they are riding the edge of rock bottom, when they have nothing left to lose. That was no place for a young guy to be. Did he have no one to give him a hand?

  “Can you swing a hammer?” I heard myself ask before my brain fully realized why I was asking.

  Sasha sat back on his heels and looked at me skeptically. “Why?”

  “I was thinking . . .”

  He raised his brows and nodded for me to continue.

  I decided to just lay it all out there. “Look, I have a tight timeline and not enough money to get this house fixed up and sold. My crew is busy working on actual paying jobs, so this place is going to depend on me and whatever I can scare up for weekend labor from my brothers. I can’t pay you much, but if you’re willing to give me a hand, I’ll let you stay here.”

  “You serious?”

  Was I? Maybe hiring some street kid was a stupid idea, but desperate times and all that. “Yeah. I need to be completely done within seven weeks. That’s not long, but it would give you more time to make a plan.”

  “I’ve never done construction before.”

  “Do you know how to follow orders? If so, I can teach you enough to make you useful.”

  He paused, clearly kicking the idea around in his mind. “I work at the coffee shop from six to two most days. I can be here and ready to go by three.”

  “Works for me. I have to spend my mornings checking in on my other jobs anyway.”

  Sasha looked at his half-packed bags, then stood up. “Guess I can put all this back.”

  “Sorry to jerk you around. If you have time now, I can show you the things that need to be demoed first, so we can get started right away tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I led Sasha downstairs, feeling oddly self-conscious. Did I really just invite this stranger to stay in my house and offer him a job? I’d have to make sure he didn’t steal my tools and pawn them for quick cash. No. No, this guy didn’t give me that kind of vibe. He was just down on his luck. Like me. And I’d be smart, lock everything up each night.

  This better not come back to bite me in the ass though.

  “So the first thing we need to do is gut the kitchen,” I said, waving toward the nasty room. “I have a dumpster being delivered in the morning. Everything has to come out. Cabinets, appliances, that ugly-ass sink. Most importantly, anything with mold on it. I had someone out this morning to test it, and thank fucking god it’s not toxic, but still, it’s nasty shit to breathe, so I don’t want you working in here without a mask on. I have a whole pack of them in my truck that I’ll bring in. When we do the actual demo, we’ll use respirators. Got it?”

  Sasha nodded.

  “And I want to remove this wall. Open it up to the dining room and create a more open space.”

  “Uh, you’ll have to be careful with that. That’s a support wall.”

  I narrowed my gaze at him. “How do you know?”

  “Well, under that plaster is solid brick.”

  I examined the wall. No holes in the plaster. All the moldings securely in place. What, did he have x-ray vision?

  “Again,” I repeated slowly, “how do you know?”

  “Used to watch HGTV with my grandfather. The only reason I can think of for a brick wall in the middle of a house is if it’s doing something to hold the place up.”

  My jaw tightened. “See this?” I pressed the flat wall. “This is plaster. Unless you’re Superman, you can’t see through it. How do you know what is under the plaster?”

  Sasha looked at his feet.

  I knocked on the plaster with my fist. It didn’t sound hollow. Curious, I went out to my truck and returned with a crowbar. I struck the plaster hard enough to create a spiderweb crack, then pried a small section of the lath away. Sure enough, there was brick under it.

  “For the last time, tell me how you knew.”

  “Lucky guess.”

  I wasn’t buying it. How did this guy who knew nothing about construction know there was a giant brick wall in the center of the house? I examined it on both sides. Aside from the one hole I just made, the brick was completely hidden. What in the hell was I missing?

  Sasha cleared his throat. “If you want to knock down walls, maybe you could open up the one between the living room and the dining room. The brick wall spans the length of both rooms, so you could remove the plaster off and use it as . . . What do they call those things?”

  “An accent wall?”

  “Yeah
, yeah. An accent wall.”

  I set aside for now how Sasha could possibly know anything about the brick wall hidden under plaster and allowed myself to picture what he’d described. A brick wall spanning the length of the two rooms would make the place appear larger and more cohesive. The exposed brick would also highlight the home’s character. It wasn’t something you’d be likely to find in a cookie-cutter ranch house.

  “Yeah, man, that could really work.”

  Sasha didn’t meet my eyes. Something was off about this guy, but damn if it didn’t increase my curiosity about him.

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Good idea. Now, let’s figure out what to do about the other side of the house.”

  We walked back to the front door. At the bottom of the staircase and to the right was a row of three dark, cramped rooms. Presumably some large family from the past must have divided the area to make bedrooms, but it looked ugly as hell. The walls in all three rooms were covered in hideous yellowed wallpaper with an acorn pattern on it. There were few things in life I hated more than scraping wallpaper.

  “I’m planning to take down the walls between these rooms too, and making another living space.”

  “A library,” Sasha said before biting his lip. “Sorry. I just think the front part could be a family room, but the back part a library. You know, with built-in bookshelves or something.”

  I’d been expecting to have to replace the furnace and water heater, but surprisingly, they were only about ten years old. I could afford to add some shelves. “Not a lot of light in the back though.”

  “No, but there used to be another window back there that someone bricked over. You could open it up again.”

  He was right. I’d noticed the bricked-over window when I’d examined the exterior prior to the auction. I wandered back to the dim room, with Sasha following. “Good point. And I’m thinking about cutting in another door here to open it up to the kitchen. It’d make a big difference in the flow.”

  Sasha ran his hand along the wall and smiled. “This place is gonna be amazing when you’re done with it. I always thought it was such a shame that it was sitting neglected.”

  Finally, someone who could see the potential in the old place! I knew I’d gotten a good feeling from this kid.

  “I can’t afford to get all new windows, but I’ll have to replace that one.” I pointed to a small window with cracked glass and a frame covered in dry rot. “If we’re going to open the old window back up, I might as well cut this one bigger to match. The morning light will flood this room. Can’t you just see someone reading their morning paper and drinking coffee in front of all those books?” I pulled out my phone to text the changes to Kelly so she could adjust the budget.

  “Yeah, perfect! Kind of makes me wish I could afford to buy the place when you’re done with it. So what are your plans for upstairs?”

  I glanced up from my phone. “The bedrooms are okay, but the bath situation needs work. I’m hoping to keep the existing tub and refinish it, but I want to replace all the tile and the sink. Install a new vanity. For the bedrooms, I’ll refinish the floors, change out the light fixtures and repaint everything. I think a master suite would increase the home value higher than that tiny fifth bedroom does though, so I’m going to convert that into a new master bath and walk-in closet.”

  “And you’re going to have this all done in seven weeks?”

  My gut tightened. It was a fuck-ton of work to get done in such a short time frame, but I didn’t have a choice. The home had to be sold ASAP in order to meet my loan obligation.

  “I don’t plan to get much sleep.”

  “Hope you have more help than just me.”

  “I have two guys working for me who will take care of the jobs lined up for my remodeling business. That will free me up to spend most of my time here. I’m licensed in electrical and plumbing, so I can do most of that work myself. My brothers and a couple of buddies will help on the weekends; maybe I’ll pick up some day laborers when I can. I’ll let Kelly handle the interior decorating details. She loves to shop with my money, but she’s surprisingly thrifty. I’ll probably hire out the landscaping. I hate that shit. And I have you.”

  “Yeah, me.”

  “I’ll pay you,” I quickly added. Didn’t want him to think I was using him. “I can only afford minimum wage though. That cool?”

  Sasha nodded. “I’m just glad you’re letting me stay. The extra cash will come in handy after my eviction.”

  “Sorry about that, dude, but I have to sell this place if I’m going to recoup my expenses, you know? Oh, and I had the water turned on today. Gas too. Not sure where you’ve been showering, but the one in the downstairs bath works now. So does the toilet.”

  “Sweet! Your lilac bush will appreciate that.”

  I raised one brow at him. “Do I want to know?”

  Sasha grinned. “Don’t worry. It was number ones only, I swear. Anything else and I walk down to the BP station.”

  “Good to know. Well, I have to run, but I’ll be around when you get off work tomorrow. Here.” I slid a key off the ring in my pocket and handed it to Sasha. “Lock up when you leave.”

  “I still have plenty of daylight left. Got something I can start on right away?”

  “Yeah, start peeling these fucking acorns off the walls.”

  It wasn’t the best shower I’d ever had, but you wouldn’t know it from the way I stood under the spigot grinning like an idiot. Since I’d taken to the streets last year, I’d been sneaking over to the Marquette campus a couple of times a week to shower in the locker room. Sometimes I’d grab a workout, if there weren’t too many people around to notice me. I had a school ID that was only slightly out of date, but no one ever checked it. Even so, the endless hot water and the occasional jock-boy eye candy didn’t beat being able to shower at home and go straight to bed all clean.

  After Nick left, the wallpaper had come off easily. I’d used the glue loosening solution he’d left to soak the sheets, then peeled them from the walls in long strips. Got all the exterior walls on the right side of the house done before the sun went down. I didn’t bother with the interior walls since they were going to be demoed anyway.

  I had to admit, it was kind of nice to do some manual labor. Walking around with Nick listening to his plans for the house had been cool too. He’d had this excited spark in his eyes as if he could really see past all the deterioration to the house’s full potential. I half wondered if he saw visions from the home’s heyday as I did. But no, Nick wasn’t a psychic; he was something better. I only saw visions of things from the past, things that had actually existed and took no imagination on my part. But Nick’s mind could envision things not yet real. He could see the potential beauty in the home. And given how excited he got when talking about it, I had no doubt he could make his plans reality.

  When the water ran to lukewarm, I got out and dried myself with the one towel I owned, then draped it around my waist. In the fading light of the camping lantern, I examined my face in the medicine cabinet mirror. I wasn’t one of those guys who could grow a full beard all manly and shit. It was more like some wonky-looking sideburns with a lopsided goatee. I should trim it up one of these days. And I couldn’t remember the last haircut I’d had. Maybe I’d take a few bucks from the money Nick was going to pay me and stop into the cosmetology school for a trim.

  My phone buzzed on the closed toilet lid with an incoming call. Not recognizing the number, I debated answering it, since I was low on minutes. But my curiosity won out.

  “Hello?”

  A tinny recording replied, “This call is being made from the Milwaukee County House of Correction.”

  “Sasha, baby. It’s Mom.”

  The recording then asked me to press number one to accept the call. My finger hovered over the number a moment before I sighed and pressed the button.

  I didn’t bother to disguise my groan. “What do you want?”

  “Is that any way to talk to your mo
ther?”

  “You’re in jail?” I didn’t have time for her bullshit. I was tired and wanted to get to bed.

  “It was a misunderstanding. They say I have outstanding warrants or something. I’m sure it’ll get cleared up in court tomorrow. But listen, I need your help.”

  “I don’t have any money to bail you out.”

  She scoffed as if it were so preposterous that she’d call me for money, even though it was usually what she wanted from me. “I have money, Sash, but it’s at the house. I need you to go over there and get it, and bring it down to the jail for me.”

  “I don’t have a key, remember?” She’d unceremoniously stripped me of it last year during our last epic fight that had ended with her latest boyfriend bleeding and me out on my ass.

  “You don’t need one. Jerry should be home.”

  “Who’s Jerry?”

  “This call is being made from the Milwaukee County House of Correction,” the recording repeated.

  “He’s my fiancé.”

  If I had a dollar for every “fiancé” my mother had ever had, I wouldn’t be homeless. “Why don’t you call him, then?”

  “The phone at the house’s been off for a while. There was a mix-up with the bill. You know how hard those phone company people are to deal with.”

  “So you want me to go over there and tell this Jerry guy to bring your money to the jail?” I really hoped her boyfriend could run her errands. It’d take three buses and several hours to get there and back to get to Oak Creek this time of night. A taxi would be faster, but would cost money I didn’t have.

  “I don’t want Jerry to know where I keep my cash. I want you to get it without him seeing. Tell him you need something from your old room. He’ll let you in. I’ve told him all about you, baby.”

  Nice, trusting relationship there. I should tell her to kiss off, but every time I did, I saw my zayde looking down on me all disappointed like. The old man had always had a soft spot for his only child, and I’d had a soft spot for him, so go figure. I glanced at the time on my phone. Shit, it was past eight o’clock already. If I did this, I’d be up all night.