*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
*.*
110 Conway Road in Myndee, Arkansas was an older wooden home among other older wooden homes in the lower middle class neighborhood. Brandon "Buddy' Kendall's Aunt Shirley had taken great pains to maintain the home, but time had not been kind to either the home or to Aunt Shirley.
Buddy was her only nephew; she'd always treated him like he was her son and not just the son of her brother, Ronnie Kendall.
"So, let me get this right," Buddy clarified. "This bond for deed; I pay you two fifty a month and I pay all the bills, any taxes, any upkeep..."
"It's your house. You own it," Aunt Shirley said.
"So, what's the down side?" Buddy asked.
"She just told you; you own it," Ronnie teased and his sister slapped him.
So, at eighteen years old, Buddy was a homeowner. Aunt Shirley went into a nursing home; her lifelong battle with Juvenile Diabetes had worsened to the point that she was bedridden. Buddy's first act was to give the exterior a fresh coat of paint.
Pearl Painters had given him a quote but Buddy knew his part-time job at the Brick's Pizzeria didn't give him that kind of disposable income. So, he decided on a lively goldenrod for the walls, a rust reddish brown for the trim and got out on a scaffolding with scraper and sandpaper.
"Damn, Buddy, you been working out?" Craig Delaney, the assistant manager of the Brick's Pizzeria asked a few days after Buddy completed the paint job.
The hot sweaty work had whittled any baby fat off of Buddy's frame. The hot sun beating down had also tanned Buddy's flesh. Then, putting a new tin roof onto his home had packed a few muscles onto Buddy's body.
"Uh huh," Buddy agreed and flexed his arms for Craig to admire.
"Not bad, not bad," Craig agreed and playfully slapped Buddy's buttocks. "But uh, instead of standing around showing off your big guns there, why you don't go see what those pretty girls want?"
The giggling, posturing girls ordered a large Meatstravaganza and a pitcher of diet cola. They giggled and squealed when Buddy asked them who was on a diet; why did they want diet coke.
Buddy liked his job; he actually hoped to be a manager or possibly even a Brick's Pizzeria franchise owner one day. He had started working at the restaurant when he was sixteen; his Nissan wasn't going to put gas into itself, wasn't going to pay its insurance itself.
Buddy had liked working for Ms. Arlene when she'd been the manager; he'd been shocked to find out she'd been stealing from the franchise owner. Buddy really liked working for Craig though. The twenty three year old red head liked Buddy, liked horsing around with Buddy, kind of like a big brother
Buddy did not say it; he would not even admit it to himself, but he enjoyed the casual contacts, the 'manhandling,' the easy-going touches. In high school, he and Warren would occasionally 'rough-house' with one another. Buddy would get a curious feeling in his belly when they would wrestle with one another and he missed those times with his friend. Craig's mannerisms reminded Buddy of those days with Warren.
Since graduating from high school, Buddy was letting his shaggy brown hair grow out. Craig had said he liked Buddy's hair long. Tugging at his own short locks, Craig said he wished he could put his hair into a ponytail like Buddy wore his long hair.
On occasion, Buddy worked with Dennis, the other manager and franchise owner's son. Dennis was hard to work with; he was all business and unyielding. Everything had to be done his way without argument. And, he was never wrong even when he was wrong.
Monday Craig and Buddy worked the lunch shift. As usual, Craig and Buddy horsed around, the slightly taller, slightly more muscular Craig easily pinning Buddy in headlocks. Craig even grabbed the waistband of Buddy's underwear from behind, threatening to give Buddy a 'supersonic monumental colossal gargantuan wedgy to end all wedgies.'
Craig let it slip that he'd decided not to renew his lease on his apartment. Even though the rent was very affordable, he just could not take another month, much less another six months of living next door to the Latin family and their loud music and constant arguments and door slamming and screaming and snotty, obnoxious kids.
"Their headboard's right up against my wall? God, they start fucking, well, I hope it's fucking, all I hear is 'bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!' for the next twenty minutes," Craig complained.
"So, what you going do?" Buddy asked as he lugged the bin of dirty dishes and plastic glasses to the back.
"Looking man, I'm looking. But, what I can afford? In the nasty part of town, you know?"
"Well, what can you afford?" Buddy asked.
"Paying four fifty right now," Craig said. "But that's wiping me out. Trying to find something, you know, about three fifty, maybe four hundred a month?"
Craig moved into 110 Conway Road the next weekend. He took the front bedroom; it was the larger of the two empty rooms. He had sole use of the hall bathroom; Buddy's bedroom had an adjoining full bath.
The manhandling, wrestling, the horse play continued, just as it had been at work. Craig walked around the house dressed in shorts, sometimes with shirt, but usually shirtless. A natural red head, Craig's skin was very pale. His chest was wide, muscled, his abdomen was flat with the beginnings of a six pack. His waist was narrow, his buttocks taut and his hairless legs were sleek and muscled.
As an assistant manager, Craig worked with Dennis on the scheduling. He worked it out with Dennis that he would work with Buddy whenever Buddy was scheduled to come in. There was little Craig could do about increasing Buddy's hours though.
On a blistering hot August morning, a month after Craig moved into the home, the thirty seven year old AC unit quit working. Robertson's H & AC could not come out until Tuesday so Buddy went down to the next name in the online directory.
Sammy Coleman of Sammy's H & AC came out at two forty five that afternoon. By this time, even with the windows open and the ceiling fans in living room and three bedrooms going at full blast, the house was sweltering. Both Buddy and Craig were walking around in their micro-brief swim trunks, wet towels slung around their necks.
"Well, this unit was put in after the house was built," Sammy said, checking the inside unit.
"How can you tell?" Craig asked, curious.
"Right there? See that weird looking plug? They had a window unit there," Sammy pointed to the odd looking outlet underneath the living room window.
"Huh!" Craig said. "So, that's what that's for? There's one in my bedroom just like that."
"That's what that's for," Sammy agreed. "Mr. Kendall? Ain't no easy way say this, but it would cost you more to fix that unit than breaking down and getting yourself a whole new unit. Did y'all, did the previous owner build on to this house? That unit's designed for a house about half this size."
"Bet that's why your electric bill's so high," Craig said.
"That, and those old windows. Single pane? You're just letting money slip out the windows every day," Sammy agreed.
"I, damn, dude, I, shit! How much we talking about?" Buddy stammered, knowing he did not have much to spend on a new AC unit.
Sammy smiled in sympathy; he could see the kid was young and inexperienced. He used his phone to search for a reasonable and efficient unit. Then he slapped his forehead.
