Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

CLAY

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why in fuck's sake did I just tell Nicholas that I'm bi?

We walk into a darkly lit gym, high-octane club music blasting over the speakers. I catch a glimpse of the machines, filled with sweaty people, and follow Nicholas to the front desk as I simmer in frustration at myself.

Awkward as fuck.

I've never told anyone I'm bi. It's not even true. Or, at least, I don't know if it's true. But I'm trying not to react to how gay everything is, and he keeps smiling and looking at me with his big eyes like he thinks I'm adorably clueless.

And I am clueless.

Clueless and holding a basket of flowers and pretending I know the first thing about being bi while Nicholas hands off a bouquet to a burly man in a tank that shows his pierced, hairy nipples.

I am in so, so far over my head.

"You're Randy's grandson?" the man asks me. "You mess with Nicholas's heart, a whole gym full of fitness gays will kick the crap out of you."

Nicholas laughs warmly, easing over the moment tactfully. "It's not like that. He's just here on business, and kind enough to help me with deliveries." He turns and takes the last bouquet out of my basket. "This is Gunther," he says, nodding to the man behind the counter.

Gunther curls up a smile. "In that case," he says and jots his number on the back of a business card, sliding it across the desk. "Call me while you're in town."

My mouth slightly opens. Nicholas gives me a pleasant smile, and I panic internally. It takes a full three seconds of mental fumbling before I'm able to respond. "I'm going to be busy," I mumble, but thinking it might be rude to leave the card there, I take it anyway.

Gunther shrugs. "You know where to find me," he says casually.

I stand there, not trusting myself to say a word after my blurted confession on the street.

Nicholas seems to take sympathy and leads us out of the gym, thank god.

"You've probably seen enough of Allentown for one morning," he offers and shuffles his empty basket to me. "If you don't mind dropping these off at the shop, Kavya can point you toward the back. I remember that Randy kept a list of everything he needed to repair. He wrote it in big black marker on the wall in the basement. You probably want to start there. And please, access the basement anytime you need for repairs. I won't stand in the way of the place getting fixed up! If you have to work in the front of the shop, just let me know, and we'll figure out a time when it's closed. Sound good?"

Grateful for any excuse to end this, I nod slowly. "Sure. Thanks."

"Thanks for helping with deliveries," he says as he takes my full basket, now carrying one on each arm. "I'll be in the shop all day if you need me."

Before I can reply, he's off down the street again, whistling to himself.

Slowly, I manage to get my head on straight.

I'm making a mess out of this.

I walk back to the shop, rehearsing what a fool I've been. I've gone from being theoretically bi-curious to outing myself and having hairy men flirt with me in gay gyms. Now the entire time I'm in Allentown, I'm going to have to contend with people assuming I'm something that I'm not.

Including Nicholas. I care what Nicholas thinks about me, and it sucks.

The sooner I can sell this place and get out of Buffalo, the better. I just need to properly assess the condition of the property first. After that, I'll find a buyer who wants to pay me a buttload of money to keep the place exactly like it is.

Or something. I'll figure out the details later.

When I get to the shop, Kavya directs me to the basement as she constructs an elaborate vase full of flowers, eyes on her work the whole time. Impressed by her scissor skills, I head down the creaky stairs and find a basement stacked to the ceiling with cardboard boxes and the list of repairs written on the wall like a horror villain lives here.

The list is long and unsettling, everything from upstairs pipes bad to replace shop toilet. Most concerning, the word foundation has been written, crossed out, and rewritten several times, and there's an exclamation point after roof.

Roof!

I can see the shingles are shabby from the street, but this confirms it. The more extensive the needed renovations, the less sense it makes financially to save this place, sad to say.

When I turn my eyes to the dusty old boxes, stacked so tight you can't see the back wall, my stomach sinks.

Why the fuck can't anything ever be easy?

Cursing under my breath, I walk back upstairs and exit to the backyard, skipping the shop. The sun is shining, and flowers bloom along the fence, which sits open, two women standing in the center of it and staring at me. One is the woman I saw when I arrived, again in a work shirt, and the other a curvy woman about her age with a wide smile and a pretty red dress.

Sue and Nance.

The woman in the work shirt scowls at me, and the other walks my way as she begins talking, a slight Southern twang to her voice.

"You must be Randy's grandson, Clay. And here we were thinking you're just a figment of the town's imagination! To imagine, someone could be living in Randy's apartment, right here in our own yard, and we wouldn't even have met him yet?" She takes my hand as she reaches me. "But you are here indeed. You must have just been hiding from us!" she concludes with a warm laugh.

"Uh, hello," I say. She's smiling, and it makes me suspicious as hell. "Yes, I'm Clay."

She drops my hand. "I'm Sue. And this is my wife, Nance. We, of course, live in the rear house."

"Right." I nod. "Of course."

"You review the deed yet?" Nance asks abruptly, her arms still crossed.

"Yes," I answer. "It's jumbled, but I read it."

Nance barks out a laugh. "Jumbled!"

Sue smiles. "The deed probably does seems odd, doesn't it?" she asks. "But we heard through the grapevine that you were planning to sell the building. So we thought we might as well act neighborly and come over ourselves. Explain the situation."

Goddamn it. I really should have found them earlier. She's friendly, but it's clear I've gotten off on the wrong foot.

"Sure," I manage with a nod, trying to play my cards tight to my chest. "Thanks."

"Randy bought the house first," Nance says, matter-of-fact. "He was going to sell us the back half of the lot to build our own house, but the city wouldn't let him. So we all struck a deal, and we own the house, and you own the land."

"Right," I say with a nod, glad to feel like I have a little context for once. "Nicholas explained that."

"I'm sure he did," Sue says, "but what takes a bit longer to explain is that Randy and my wife are both particular people, and they both required a large number of clauses to make this agreement work. For instance, the front building itself can never be torn down without our explicit consent."

"Which we would never give," Nance adds sharply. "No matter how much one of these developers offers us."

Cash dwindles in my imagination.

"And we, for example, aren't allowed to grow apple trees in the yard because Randy thought they were boring and uninspired."

I swallow. "Okay. This is the appendix to the contract. All those pages."

"No, the appendix came later," Nance says.

"It's like when you open a door," Sue adds cheerfully, "and then it just becomes easier and easier to walk through that door again. Randy and my wife were prone to disagreements, and they learned to settle those disagreements with additional clauses to the deed."

"Like you aren't allowed any Halloween decorations taller than two feet," Nance says emphatically. "And nothing motion-activated that tries to scare you!"

"We're responsible for paying the neighbor girl to shovel the sidewalk in the winter," Sue says, "so you'll not need to worry about that."

"And we get to have Sunday brunch in the yard," Nance adds and gestures around us, to my yard. "Whole yard. Your part, too. Every Sunday, weather permitting."

I sigh. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know, I guess. But I'm not sticking around long enough for any of that to matter to me. I plan to sell."

Sue's smile doesn't waver. "In that case, we'll cut to the chase. You're going to have developers salivating at your front door trying to buy this place, but the building isn't going to be so easy to sell."

"I already knew that from the list of repairs that need doing," I tell them.

Sue's face falls. "I knew it," she says quietly.

"Don't flip your top," Nance cautions her.

"All those years, how many times did I tell Randy? Let me come over with my tools. I'll replace that beam with you. We can rip out the old shower together—it will be fun. But the stubborn mule insisted he had it under control."

"You knew it was bad when he stopped letting you in the basement."

I clear my throat. "Is your building falling apart, too?"

Nance lets out a sharp laugh. "Our building will be the last thing standing during the apocalypse, thank you very much. My wife knows how to swing a hammer."

Shit, Sue is a carpenter, too. They're clearly not going to help me renovate and sell the place, though, so I don't waste my time getting my hopes up or trying to plead my case.

Better to just get this over with, so I rock back on my heels and nod. "Okay. Got it."

Sue lets out a satisfied hum before offering me her smile again.

"We really should be going," she says as Nance takes her arm. "Just wanted to introduce ourselves before the developers. Pie and coffee will have to come another time!"

They take off, and I look after, skeptical.

"Pie and coffee," I mutter.

No way in hell is that going to happen.