Free Good for You by Tammara Webber Page B

for someone else…” The way her words trail off, she’s either fal ing asleep on me, or she’s thinking about what she isn’t tel ing me. “So, um, how’s the Habitat place going?”
    “I’m counting the days until I’m gone.” I’m thinking to myself Deb and Bradford, sittin’ in a tree… but I resolve to let her tel me about him at her own pace. We’ve never hidden anything from each other indefinitely.
    “Reid Alexander stil being a jackhole?”
    “Yeah, you could say that.”
    “You’l be in Ecuador soon. By the time you return, his community service wil be over, and you’l never have to see or work with him again.”
    “Yeah.” I’m not disappointed at the thought of his absence. I’m not. He does nothing, says nothing unless it’s calculated to make me uncomfortable.
    “Hmm,” Deb says, a subtle chal enge before I change the subject to col ege concerns like dorm life and how to dodge the freshmen fifteen.

Chapter 13
    REID
    I was wondering when an uninvited film crew was going to show up. I’m actual y surprised it took them this long.
    Paparazzi, as careless as they appear, know better than to trespass on personal property. But the Habitat property is tiny, and telescopic lenses are standard for these guys.
    Camped out in adjacent yards, the shrewd ones undoubtedly paid the neighbors off to get closer. This is the sort of thing George would term “free positive PR”—an occurrence that I, apparently, can’t get too much of. The only hitch is the fact that I have to be here the rest of this week plus two more; this situation could morph into insanity central if it isn’t managed.
    Stripping the heavy work gloves off as I go, I wander inside to find Roberta. She’s talking to the general contractor about what grade of insulation to use in the attic.
    I could fal asleep from extreme disinterest any minute.
    Luckily, they finish up in a minute or so and she turns to me warily. “Yes, um, Reid?”
    “I just wanted to let you know that there are photogs out there—paparazzi—not on the property, but as close as they there—paparazzi—not on the property, but as close as they can legal y get. With me outside, it’s gonna be a zoo.
    Thought I should warn you.”
    “Oh.” She’s immediately flustered; obviously this is something new for her. She moves to a rear window.
    “They’re out there now?”
    “Yeah.”
    Peering out, she narrows her eyes, scanning, and then gasps softly. “What in the world? There’s someone balancing on top of a swing set… and on the roof next door!”
    I shrug.
    “What should we do? I guess I should have considered this probability…”
    “They’re not going anywhere, now that they know where I am. I already cal ed my manager. He’s sending bodyguards to make sure they keep their distance from me, and he’s alerting the police to make sure they respect property boundaries.”
    “The police? Oh, dear.”
    Roberta continues to stare at the guy on the roof next door while I push off from the counter and head back outside, pul ing the work gloves on. Frank says we’re demolishing an old fence at the back of the property—so termite-ridden that one good kick could turn it into a cloud of splinters. Painting wal s was tedious. Tearing shit down?
    Not.
    Predictably, the photogs wake up when I exit the back door. Some of them try cal ing to me, like I’m walking the red carpet or something, which pisses me off.
    I’m working . Can’t they see that?

    *** *** ***
    Dori
    As I fel asleep last night, I considered tel ing Roberta to finish this job without me. I miss my VBS kids and their joyful, artless voices practicing the choral arrangements. I miss singing along with them. I miss babysitting people who are immature because they’re five , not because they’re arrogant buttheads. Most of al , I miss being unacquainted with Reid Alexander.
    Just when I think to myself what next , it turns out I shouldn’t have wondered. Of course the paparazzi