Dick by Law (2 page)

Chapter
4

Hours later, Simon
gazed at
the
mint-condition front-loader washing machine
newly installed in the laundry room
, a converted
sun porch
at the back of his house. The white skin of the washer gleamed and sparkled in the
sunlight streaming into the room,
and
Simon's pulse quickened
. H
e felt a rush of pride.

Then, he
stared down at the
beat-to-hell
pedestal that had come with it.

Josie nudged the pedestal with her toe
, as if it were a pile of road kill
. "Did they let a
gorilla
loose on that thing or what?"

Zeke,
one of
the
two
grungy
delivery guy
s who'd hauled in the washer and pedestal
, scratched the back of his
tattoo-slathered neck
.
If his neck and arms (left bare by his sleeveless black Harley Davidson t-shirt) were any indication, a high percentage of his body was covered in tattoo ink.
"I wouldn't even put that in
my
house
, man
."

Zeke and his partner, Greg, had just
cart
ed
the pedestal
off the truck, but it looked as if they'd tied it to the rear fender and dragged it all the way from the warehouse.

The pedestal was a two-foot-high box, a metal platform on which the front-loader was meant to sit. It matched the washer in color and shape, but its condition was as battered as the washer's was pristine.

Three of the pedestal's four sides were severely dented. The mounting brackets were gone from two corners, and the remaining two brackets were twisted and cracked. The top surface of the pedestal was smeared with black grease, and the whole thing was coated with some kind of brownish film.

Simon shook his head in amazement. "But I ordered a
new
pedestal."

Zeke checked his clipboard and snorted. "You sure did, dude. That's exactly what it says here."

"You call this
new
?" Simon laughed, though he wasn't amused.
He looked at Zeke, and Zeke just shrugged.

"New in some mirror universe, may
be."
Chip
scrubbed his fingers through his spiky green hair
. "Some alternate reality where everything
sucks
."

"New in that we've never actually
seen
it before," said Josie. "It's new to
us
."

"New in the sense that when it comes to palming off junk on paying customers, this is a
new low
." Ankha folded her slim arms over her chest and glared at Zeke.

"Well
,
I think it's just beautiful." Simon smiled and hunkered down beside the pedestal. "It sets off the new washing machine perfectly." He lovingly ran his hands over the dents and black smears. "Really
ties together
the whole laundry room."

"For real?" said
Zeke's partner,
Greg,
an emaciated specimen with a dull gold nose ring and ratty
ponytail.
Simon
stared at Greg in disbelief. He
couldn't tell if
he and Zeke
were in their forties or
just in their twenties with
wear and tear
beyond their years
.

Simon got to his feet. "Nope. Please take it away now."

"Are you sure?" Josie tipped her head to one side and tapped her lower lip with a fingertip. "I kind of feel sorry for it."

"I'm sure," said Simon. "When can you bring me a new one?"

"Hold on a minute." Zeke grabbed the cell phone off his belt clip and flipped it open. He dialed a number and waited. "Hello, Leila?"

As Zeke stepped outside with his phone, and Greg followed, Simon leaned against his new washer. "What I want to know is, where'd they get that thing? A junkyard?"

"I can't believe they had the nerve to send it out here," said Ankha. "Did they actually think you'd take it?"

"You might be surprised," said Chip. "People trust Strayer-Roland."

"'We're family.'" Josie quoted the Strayer-Roland slogan.

"But not in a
good
way," said Chip.

"Okay, here's the deal." Zeke flipped his phone shut as he
ambl
ed back in. "We'll take this pedestal away, but you'll have to go to the store to order a new one."

"Wait, what?" Simon frowned. "It wasn't
my
mistake."

"Right," said Zeke. "Some kind of mix-up at the warehouse...but you'll still have to go to the store. Bring your receipt, and they'll cancel your order, issue a refund, and place a
new
order for a
new
pedestal."

"That's just crazy talk," said Chip.

Zeke shrugged.
"It's how they do things now.
"

Simon shook his head. His sense of humor was fading. "This is ridiculous. Can't you call a manager or something?"

"Wouldn't do any good," said Zeke. "5G5 is just the delivery company. We didn't sell you the pedestal, and we can't exchange it for a new one."

"But you're acting as
representatives
of Strayer-Roland in the field," said Simon.

"I'm not even an
employee
of 5G5," said Zeke. "I'm an independent contractor working freelance for a subcontractor. I barely represent
myself
, dude."

Simon sighed.
"So if I go to the store right now, I could still resolve this today?"

"It's worth a shot." Zeke handed over his clipboard and pen. "Now just initial by the red X's, and we can get that hunk of shit out of your house."

Simon signed where he was told. "This is all gonna work out, right? I don't need to worry?"

"All I'm saying, dude," said Zeke, "is there's no need to make a federal case out of it."

 

*****

Chapter
5

One
week later
,
after Simon had jumped through the right hoops at the Strayer-Roland department store, Zeke and Greg returned to his house.
They brought him a brand new washing machine pedestal, a vast improvement over the
w
reckage they'd delivered the first time
around
.

Everything
seemed to be
squared away, and e
very
one was happy.
But then it happened
.

One minute,
Simon
was admiring
the new pedestal on the laundry room floor, all gleaming white and perfect in every way. He was feeling good now that Strayer-Roland had finally sent him what he'd ordered.

The next minute, Greg the
emaciated
delivery guy was screaming his lungs out.

"The
fuck
?"
Tattooed
Zeke, who'd been fussing with some paperwork, whipped around with clipboard in hand.

At first, Simon couldn't see what the problem was. Greg was hunkered down behind
the washing machine
, disconnecting the hookups in preparation for installing the pedestal.

But the problem soon became clear. Still screaming, Greg leaped out from behind the washer, clutching his left arm. Blood poured from his left wrist, streaming onto the floor.

"What the fuck did you
do
?" said Zeke.

"I was...using a
box cutter
...to slice off those
zip ties
." Greg clenched his teeth, sucking back another scream. "Fuckin' thing
got away
from me!"

Suddenly, Josie loomed in the kitchen doorway
in her blinding pink t-shirt
du jour
. "Holy shit!"

"Call nine one one!" said Simon.

"Fuck that!" said Zeke. "I'm drivin' him to the emergency room!"

Greg stood in the middle of the room, dripping blood on the
new white
pedestal. "Finish the installation. I'll drive myself." He choked back another scream and headed for the back door.

"Just wait for the ambulance." Simon saw Josie in the doorway
, pulling her cell phone from a
front
pocket of her bright yellow shorts
. "And
hurry up with that
nine
-
one
-
one
call
, Jo!"

"
F
orget it
!
" Zeke shook his head. "This isn't your problem."

Simon pushed past him and scooped a towel from a laundry basket in the corner. "Too late for that." He wrapped the towel as tight as he could around Greg's arm. "Now hold this in place."

"It fuckin'
hurts
!" Greg let loose a piercing cry and fell against the side of the washing machine.

"Boss!"
Josie flipped her cell phone shut. "Ambulance is on its way!"

"Hang in there." Simon tied a shirt around Greg's upper arm and cinched it tight.

Greg sank to his knees. Tears were flowing from his eyes. "I don't wanna die! Please God, don't kill me!"

Simon heard the ambulance siren in the distance. He turned to look out the window...
and Zeke thrust his
clipboard
in front of him
.

"Before we go," said Zeke, "could you just initial beside the red X's?"

"What?" Simon was distracted by Greg's latest round of screams
.

Zeke raised a black pen and clicked the button with his thumb, popping out the tip. "Beside the red X's, please. Just acknowledging we were here."

Greg was still wailing. Simon took the pen.

"Just a formality, dude," said Zeke. "CYA makes the world go round."

 

*****

Two hours later, Greg and Zeke were gone. So was most of the bloody mess, thanks to the
In¢entive$
crew.

Josie, Chip, and Ankha had all pitched in to
help Simon
mop and wipe up the blood Greg had left behind. By the time they'd finished, the only trace of the incident was the heap of bloody towels in the drum of the washing machine.

"Awesome work, you guys." Simon closed the washer's glass door and set the controls on the digital front panel. "I can't thank you enough."

"A raise is the perfect gift for any occasion, you know." Chip clinked the neck of his beer bottle against Josie's, then Ankha's.
He took a swig, then snagged a fresh bottle from
the laundry table in the corner, uncapped it, and dropped the cap in the pocket of his red and gold bowling shirt.

"How about an increase in my admiration and gratitude?" Simon pressed the "on" button, and the machine chimed softly. Turning his back, he reached for the open
bottle of
beer
Chip
offered him.

"I think we'd settle for less admiration and more money," said Ankha.

"Hear, hear!" Josie pumped her beer bottle in the air, then drained it in one chug.

"Be that as it may," said Simon, "my admiration continues to exceed your paychecks." He raised his bottle high and let his gaze drift over each of them in turn--first Ankha, then Chip, then Josie. "I cannot thank you enough for helping me here today. Once again, you've gone above and beyond the call of duty."

"Yo ho ho, Captain!" Chip raised his bottle to his eye like a telescope. "Yer the scurvy blackguard what keeps this pirate ship of ours afloat!"

Suddenly, Josie gasped and pointed at the floor. "Keeps it
sinking
, is more like it!"

When Simon looked down, he saw sudsy water rushing around his feet, pouring out from under the washer. "What the hell?"

Chip ducked between the washer and the wall for a look. "Turn it off! Do it now!"

Simon smacked the power button with the flat of his hand. The washer chimed twice and shut off. "What's going on?"

Chip looked out from behind the washer. "The delivery guys didn't hook up the drain hose!"

"Shit!" Simon splashed through the soapy water, which was still pouring out from under the machine. The entire
granite gray
linoleum tile floor was already swamped, and the tide was moving into the kitchen.

When Simon looked behind the washer, he saw the water's source: it gushed from a black rubber hose that Chip was fighting toward a drain in the wall.

"It's what Greg was doing when he cut himself
!
" Chip wrenched the hose hard to the left,
then pushed it inside the recessed box cut into the wall three feet up from the floor. A
ligning it with the drain
hole in the base of the box
,
he
stuffed
the hose
inside. "He hacked off the zip ties holding it in place, but he never put it back!"

"And I didn't think to check it." Simon winced.

"Which reminds me," said Chip. "Could somebody bring me some
zip ties
?"

Simon sloshed across the room, heading for the back door. "This floor is ruined. Not
to mention the kitchen floor.
"

"Hey, Boss." Josie handed him a fresh beer. "Were any children hurt?"

Simon sighed. "Nope."

"And the world didn't end, did it?" Josie swept her arm across the doorway, taking in the world outside.

"I guess not." Simon took a swig of beer.

"Then go get your zip ties." Josie pushed him out the door. "And get your ass
back
here, 'cause there's a mop with your
name
on it!"

"Because I
own
it," said Simon as he hiked across the yard.

"Details, details," said Josie.

 

*****