Free Chore Whore by Heather H. Howard Page A

I started smelling the most horrific burning stench coming from the backyard.”
    â€œOh, no!” I gasp.
    â€œGirl, he was back there burning shit up.”
    â€œLike what? The wood behind your shed?” I ask.
    â€œNo. Shit. Dried-up dog shit.”
    â€œDid anything catch on fire?”
    â€œThank God, no. It started to rain just in time. But living in the hills with all the brush and old wood roofs, we’re a brush fire waiting to happen.”
    â€œShelly, I am so sorry. I beg you to forgive him.”
    â€œCorki, you know I love that rogue, but this is all I have. I just can’t risk it. If I lost this house I wouldn’t know what to do.”
    â€œI understand. I really feel terrible.”
    â€œI know, girl. Look, it’s all over, don’t worry.”
    I take a deep breath and walk from the room behind Shelly. Under the scent of Jamaican Love incense, I can smell the odor of burned feces. Every window we pass is open, letting the rain and fresh air blow in.
    I turn the stereo off as soon as I twist the key and the engine turns over. I start driving down the road, fuming silently until I can’t hold it anymore.
    â€œBlaise! Just what the heck did you think you were doing?”
    â€œI was just playing,” he says calmly.
    â€œNo, honey, ‘playing’ is throwing a ball. Lighting fires is seriously bad news. Do you realize the damage you could have done?”
    â€œBut I didn’t do any damage.”
    â€œThank God!”
    We drive home in silence. I pull up into the driveway and start to get out to unlock my gate.
    â€œSorry I’m such an ‘inconvenience,’ ” Blaise mutters.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, still perturbed.
    â€œThat’s what you said to Mama Shelly—that it was an ‘inconvenience’ having me around.”
    â€œHoney, I said no such thing,” I say, heartbroken. “Is that what you thought? Because it’s not true. I said that school getting out midweek is an inconvenience.”
    â€œSame difference, Mom.”
    I pause before getting out to open the gate.
    â€œAre you hating your school?”
    â€œNo, school’s fine. Why?”
    â€œWell, there may be this other opportunity—”
    Just then, my cell rings.
    â€œHello. This is Corki.”
    â€œHey, it’s Dwayne, handyman extraordinaire! I just called to let you know I’m done with boarding up Liam and Esther’s master bedroom. In fact, I finished just before the rain started. What’s going on up there, anyway? The doors ripped from the frame, the toilet tank’s lid has gone a-missin’. That place is becoming a wreck and they’re a good ways from finishing the remodel.”
    I unlock the gate and pull Betty into my backyard.
    â€œI need to replace that toilet lid before her party this weekend. That means I have tomorrow to find a lid and get it up there. And I just got a request to cook for six tomorrow. Where can I find a lid like that?”
    â€œWell, Corki,” he says in his Louisiana drawl, “you’re in a bit of a pinch, huh? I reckon the best thing you can do is get yourself a piece of cardboard and draw an outline of the toilet tank that the lid sits on. Then take it over to that plumbing place over on Pico and Bundy and go through their spare porcelain lids out back.”
    â€œDwayne, that sounds awfully complicated. Can’t I just get the brand and model and go pick it up at Home Depot?”
    Dwayne sucks in air. He’s obviously dealing with an incompetent in the toilet department of life. Without even seeing him, I can tell he’s lighting his pipe. Dwayne, thirty-two, with sandy blond hair and green eyes, looks a whole heap like Brad Pitt. Dwayne smacks his lips, and inhales to get the tobacco lit.
    â€œListen to me. That there toilet is a good fifty years old. They don’t even make that brand anymore, so it ain’t