I stayed immobile on my bed for what must have been hours. My gaze never left the wall as I came to the realization that everything I had worked toward over the last three years was over, liquified into a disgusting brown sludge before my very eyes. More than anything in the world, I wanted to pull the covers back over my eyes and return to sleep until I woke up on a day when my life hadn't been ruined.
In all likelihood, the repairs would wipe out my entire savings. Every dime I'd saved for years, gone. Every dream I'd worked for, extinguished.
Because even if I didn't spend all of my money fixing this place, how likely would it be that John would work with me after I had ruined his house? No way in hell would any sane person do that, especially a successful businessman. My actions didn't exactly scream "low-risk investment."
Now, I'd have to find someone else. And if I couldn't get someone to fund me soon, I'd never get the label off the ground before I aged out of modeling. The Internet would never wait around another three years for me to scrape together enough money to start again. I'd be 29 by that point, and pretty much a dinosaur.
What was I going to do now? In a twisted way, I was relieved. What point was there in continuing this Instagram bullshit? I'd never make enough, and I loathed doing it. The terrifyingly unknown future rose up before me, and I shuddered, my life now a giant question.
Eventually, my stomach growled so loudly that I could no longer ignore my hunger. I dragged myself off the bed, stumbling down the stairs, rubbing my temples at the sudden onset of another headache. I grabbed food without looking at it, shoving it in my face as I stared out the window. Even from way over here, I could see the refuse bubbling out of the ground.
How long had it been since Travis had said he'd call someone? No doubt he meant his own employees. I winced—another problem I'd forgotten to deal with. I probably owed him an apology, although at this point, I wasn't sure for what. Perhaps paying him all of my money would be enough of one. I laughed mirthlessly.
The doorbell rang, snapping me out of my dark thoughts. I glanced down at what I was eating. Grapes and almonds. Could've been worse. I shoved it all back in the fridge and then made for the front door, opening it to reveal two strange men.
"H-hello?"
They glanced up and down my body, then returned to my face, polite expressions masking any sort of emotion.
"We're here to look at your sewer, ma'am. Could you let us out back, please?"
Oh, right. Of course that's who they were. I shook my head at my own stupidity as I silently led them through my kitchen. I glanced at the clock and realized that it had only been about an hour since I'd finished my run. It felt like another lifetime.
I stood silently while they inspected the damage. Travis must have told them what to expect, because they pulled masks out of their pockets before they got too close. I stared in envy at the masks, then mentally wondered if I had something like that myself I could use. Did a pedicure mask count?
"Wow, that is foul."
"Trav wasn't exaggerating, was he?"
"I've never seen sewage seep out like that."
"Yeah, look ... right over to the house, like he said."
They stepped away from the shed and turned toward me, pulling their masks down so they could talk to me. I noticed their slightly gleeful expressions. Were they actually excited about digging up this literal shit? Men were so weird.
"Ma'am, we're going to have to get some tools out of our truck."
"Oh, sure," I said tonelessly, wondering if this was really happening. "Just prop the door open and come in and out as you like."
"Thanks."
One of the men went off, no doubt to grab whatever magic instruments would save me from this mess and also seal my fate. I glanced at the other guy, who was pacing back and forth along the sewer line, occasionally glancing up at the house.
"So, how bad is this? Trav mentioned it was upstairs?"
"Yeah, I was going to take a shower and it sprayed clear across the tub."
"Nasty. Well, don't worry; we'll figure it out."
Figuring it out wasn't what I was worried about. It was the tab at the end of it that would keep me up at night. I made a noncommittal noise and then swung around to discover the other guy had returned, Travis on his heels. They had shovels slung over one of their shoulders and bags clutched in their opposite hands.
I stared warily at Travis, who had added a shirt to the shorts he'd been wearing earlier. I just barely prevented myself from sighing in disappointment at his concealed chest. The last thing I needed was to embarrass myself in front of all of them when they'd already taken time out of their Sunday to fix my yard of shit.
But one thing was for certain: Travis did just as much of the work as his employees. That much was apparent, if his ripped physique was anything to go by.
"What are you doing here?" I said.
Travis quirked an eyebrow, a faint bit of amusement on his face. "What, did you think I was just going to leave you to sort this out yourself?"
"Honestly? Yeah."
His face darkened, and he dropped the stuff at our feet. "I wouldn't ask some of my men to give up their Sunday if I wasn't willing to also do so. We're a team."
One of Travis' men clapped him on the shoulders silently as the two of them began digging around in the bags, but Travis kept his eyes on me. Shame washed over me; I'd assumed he was one of those wealthy men who bossed others around and never did anything himself, but I'd obviously misjudged him.
I broke our gaze first, turning away as the men grabbed the shovels they'd brought after pulling on the gloves they'd retrieved from their bags. They aimed their shovels for the ground near the sewer cap, poised to cut into the ground.
"Wait!" I cried. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like? We have to get a look at the sewer tank to see where the problem is," Travis said. He'd pulled on his own gloves and grabbed the last shovel.
I paled; not only had this man told me to literally stay away from him less than 12 hours previously, he now was prepared to dig actual shit out of my ground. And I'd done nothing but misjudge him.
Simply unacceptable.
"Do you have another shovel?" I said quietly.
They all paused, looking at me strangely. Travis towered over me, staring down with an expression on his face that I truly couldn't identify.
"You're going to dig that up? You?" he said slowly.
I frowned at the intimation. I wasn't some spoiled princess, although I was aware I sure did look like one. I'd done worse jobs before my current one, although they couldn't have known that. Of course, the real reason I'd asked for a shovel was that I'd do anything I could to lessen the bill, and if that meant shoveling some shit, then so be it.
I'd heard that construction companies tended to delay finishing a project so that they could charge more. While I didn't really think Travis' company would do something that unethical, anything I could do to lessen the total was necessary. That meant getting my hands dirty. Working on a weekend probably increased the hourly rate, too, so my goal now was to get the lot of them out of here as quickly as possible.
I threw out a hand, trying to muster more confidence than I felt. "Clearly, it's going to take a while if you're digging it by hand. I might as well help."
Travis studied me, then slowly stalked forward, peeling off his gloves finger by finger, as if giving me plenty of time to change my mind. I stood mutely, hand still outstretched. Finally he passed them to me and I pulled them on, frowning slightly when my hands slipped in the huge gloves. I'd have a hard time gripping the shovel. I grabbed for it, but Travis held it away from me, his eyes flicking from me to the other men, who were watching the entire drama play out in speechlessness.
"What?" I said, frustrated and three seconds from crying in sadness that the last days I'd spend in this beautiful house would be spent shoveling shit.
Travis looked at me for a long time, eyes traveling down and then back up my body. "Lena, you have to change."
"What?" I repeated, glancing down at me for the first time since he'd come over. My face flamed when I realized that I was still in my running shirt and shorts, sans underwear. With mortification, I noticed my nipples were visible through my shirt. I wasn't even wearing shoes, and I had planned to work in the feces lawn? "Oh. Right. I'll just go change, then."
I fled, still embarrassed I couldn't even remember to clothe myself properly. Steps clattered behind me in the kitchen and I jumped, glancing over my shoulder to find Travis following close behind, staring at me.
"I might have another shovel in my house," he finally muttered. I simply nodded, escaping up the stairs.
By the time I had thrown on proper clothes, my rainboots—the only sensible shoes I could think of to wear—and pulled my hair into a ponytail, Travis had indeed returned with another shovel and the three men were already digging in the back corner of my yard. When he felt me standing behind him, Travis wordlessly pointed to the shovel lying on the ground next to him, pointedly refusing to look at me.
I watched the men for a few moments, analyzing the way they plunged their shovels into the ground for maximum efficiency, and then, with renewed determination, I began.
I stayed immobile on my bed for what must have been hours. My gaze never left the wall as I came to the realization that everything I had worked toward over the last three years was over, liquified into a disgusting brown sludge before my very eyes. More than anything in the world, I wanted to pull the covers back over my eyes and return to sleep until I woke up on a day when my life hadn't been ruined.
In all likelihood, the repairs would wipe out my entire savings. Every dime I'd saved for years, gone. Every dream I'd worked for, extinguished.
Because even if I didn't spend all of my money fixing this place, how likely would it be that John would work with me after I had ruined his house? No way in hell would any sane person do that, especially a successful businessman. My actions didn't exactly scream "low-risk investment."
Now, I'd have to find someone else. And if I couldn't get someone to fund me soon, I'd never get the label off the ground before I aged out of modeling. The Internet would never wait around another three years for me to scrape together enough money to start again. I'd be 29 by that point, and pretty much a dinosaur.
What was I going to do now? In a twisted way, I was relieved. What point was there in continuing this Instagram bullshit? I'd never make enough, and I loathed doing it. The terrifyingly unknown future rose up before me, and I shuddered, my life now a giant question.
Eventually, my stomach growled so loudly that I could no longer ignore my hunger. I dragged myself off the bed, stumbling down the stairs, rubbing my temples at the sudden onset of another headache. I grabbed food without looking at it, shoving it in my face as I stared out the window. Even from way over here, I could see the refuse bubbling out of the ground.
How long had it been since Travis had said he'd call someone? No doubt he meant his own employees. I winced—another problem I'd forgotten to deal with. I probably owed him an apology, although at this point, I wasn't sure for what. Perhaps paying him all of my money would be enough of one. I laughed mirthlessly.
The doorbell rang, snapping me out of my dark thoughts. I glanced down at what I was eating. Grapes and almonds. Could've been worse. I shoved it all back in the fridge and then made for the front door, opening it to reveal two strange men.
"H-hello?"
They glanced up and down my body, then returned to my face, polite expressions masking any sort of emotion.
"We're here to look at your sewer, ma'am. Could you let us out back, please?"
Oh, right. Of course that's who they were. I shook my head at my own stupidity as I silently led them through my kitchen. I glanced at the clock and realized that it had only been about an hour since I'd finished my run. It felt like another lifetime.
I stood silently while they inspected the damage. Travis must have told them what to expect, because they pulled masks out of their pockets before they got too close. I stared in envy at the masks, then mentally wondered if I had something like that myself I could use. Did a pedicure mask count?
"Wow, that is foul."
"Trav wasn't exaggerating, was he?"
"I've never seen sewage seep out like that."
"Yeah, look ... right over to the house, like he said."
They stepped away from the shed and turned toward me, pulling their masks down so they could talk to me. I noticed their slightly gleeful expressions. Were they actually excited about digging up this literal shit? Men were so weird.
"Ma'am, we're going to have to get some tools out of our truck."
"Oh, sure," I said tonelessly, wondering if this was really happening. "Just prop the door open and come in and out as you like."
"Thanks."
One of the men went off, no doubt to grab whatever magic instruments would save me from this mess and also seal my fate. I glanced at the other guy, who was pacing back and forth along the sewer line, occasionally glancing up at the house.
"So, how bad is this? Trav mentioned it was upstairs?"
"Yeah, I was going to take a shower and it sprayed clear across the tub."
"Nasty. Well, don't worry; we'll figure it out."
Figuring it out wasn't what I was worried about. It was the tab at the end of it that would keep me up at night. I made a noncommittal noise and then swung around to discover the other guy had returned, Travis on his heels. They had shovels slung over one of their shoulders and bags clutched in their opposite hands.
I stared warily at Travis, who had added a shirt to the shorts he'd been wearing earlier. I just barely prevented myself from sighing in disappointment at his concealed chest. The last thing I needed was to embarrass myself in front of all of them when they'd already taken time out of their Sunday to fix my yard of shit.
But one thing was for certain: Travis did just as much of the work as his employees. That much was apparent, if his ripped physique was anything to go by.
"What are you doing here?" I said.
Travis quirked an eyebrow, a faint bit of amusement on his face. "What, did you think I was just going to leave you to sort this out yourself?"
"Honestly? Yeah."
His face darkened, and he dropped the stuff at our feet. "I wouldn't ask some of my men to give up their Sunday if I wasn't willing to also do so. We're a team."
One of Travis' men clapped him on the shoulders silently as the two of them began digging around in the bags, but Travis kept his eyes on me. Shame washed over me; I'd assumed he was one of those wealthy men who bossed others around and never did anything himself, but I'd obviously misjudged him.
I broke our gaze first, turning away as the men grabbed the shovels they'd brought after pulling on the gloves they'd retrieved from their bags. They aimed their shovels for the ground near the sewer cap, poised to cut into the ground.
"Wait!" I cried. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like? We have to get a look at the sewer tank to see where the problem is," Travis said. He'd pulled on his own gloves and grabbed the last shovel.
I paled; not only had this man told me to literally stay away from him less than 12 hours previously, he now was prepared to dig actual shit out of my ground. And I'd done nothing but misjudge him.
Simply unacceptable.
"Do you have another shovel?" I said quietly.
They all paused, looking at me strangely. Travis towered over me, staring down with an expression on his face that I truly couldn't identify.
"You're going to dig that up? You?" he said slowly.
I frowned at the intimation. I wasn't some spoiled princess, although I was aware I sure did look like one. I'd done worse jobs before my current one, although they couldn't have known that. Of course, the real reason I'd asked for a shovel was that I'd do anything I could to lessen the bill, and if that meant shoveling some shit, then so be it.
I'd heard that construction companies tended to delay finishing a project so that they could charge more. While I didn't really think Travis' company would do something that unethical, anything I could do to lessen the total was necessary. That meant getting my hands dirty. Working on a weekend probably increased the hourly rate, too, so my goal now was to get the lot of them out of here as quickly as possible.
I threw out a hand, trying to muster more confidence than I felt. "Clearly, it's going to take a while if you're digging it by hand. I might as well help."
Travis studied me, then slowly stalked forward, peeling off his gloves finger by finger, as if giving me plenty of time to change my mind. I stood mutely, hand still outstretched. Finally he passed them to me and I pulled them on, frowning slightly when my hands slipped in the huge gloves. I'd have a hard time gripping the shovel. I grabbed for it, but Travis held it away from me, his eyes flicking from me to the other men, who were watching the entire drama play out in speechlessness.
"What?" I said, frustrated and three seconds from crying in sadness that the last days I'd spend in this beautiful house would be spent shoveling shit.
Travis looked at me for a long time, eyes traveling down and then back up my body. "Lena, you have to change."
"What?" I repeated, glancing down at me for the first time since he'd come over. My face flamed when I realized that I was still in my running shirt and shorts, sans underwear. With mortification, I noticed my nipples were visible through my shirt. I wasn't even wearing shoes, and I had planned to work in the feces lawn? "Oh. Right. I'll just go change, then."
I fled, still embarrassed I couldn't even remember to clothe myself properly. Steps clattered behind me in the kitchen and I jumped, glancing over my shoulder to find Travis following close behind, staring at me.
"I might have another shovel in my house," he finally muttered. I simply nodded, escaping up the stairs.
By the time I had thrown on proper clothes, my rainboots—the only sensible shoes I could think of to wear—and pulled my hair into a ponytail, Travis had indeed returned with another shovel and the three men were already digging in the back corner of my yard. When he felt me standing behind him, Travis wordlessly pointed to the shovel lying on the ground next to him, pointedly refusing to look at me.
I watched the men for a few moments, analyzing the way they plunged their shovels into the ground for maximum efficiency, and then, with renewed determination, I began.
