Free I Loved You More by Tom Spanbauer Page A

my phone was the list of emergency numbers to call. Repairs would be expensive on the weekend and my boss would be pissed but there was no way I could fix that boiler. I ran my finger down the list. Frank’s First Call Boiler and Repair .
    Two things about that company that fucked me up.
    The first. It took a big dick just to call up Frank’s First Call Boiler and Repair . You had to be prepared. If you fucked up the account number or the address the guy hung up. Then you had to be specific about what you needed. Choose one: installation, replacement of parts, maintenance and cleaning, other . You had to speak loud and clear and get to the point fast or the guy hung up. The first time I called them it took me all day to keep the guy on the phone.
    And there I was again, my index finger on the telephone number. Frank’s First Call Boiler and Repair . The Running Boy just wanted to run. Be prepared: I wrote down on a piece of paper the account number and the street address. Then how do you say in ten words or less your boiler was drowned in a shit flood? Fuck.
    The guy on the phone was as tough as ever. John Gotti in New Jersey.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?”
    I gave him the account number and the street address.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?”
    â€œOther.”
    â€œWhat’s your other problem?”
    I said it fast, loud, and fuck you.
    â€œBoiler emergency,” I said.
    There was a silence, just for a moment, and then the guy laughed.
    â€œI remember you. You’re the super getting the college education.”
    If you wait you lose. Before I had a chance to open up my mouth, the guy was talking at me again.
    â€œTwo hours,” he said. “You be there on the stoop with the keys.”
    â€œIf you’re not on the stoop we don’t stop.”
    In the shower, no matter how hard I scrubbed I couldn’t get the basement turd smell off me. Poured a bunch of Polo aftershave into my hands and slapped it on my neck and face. Put on fresh clothes. Tied a new red handkerchief around my neck. Grabbed the flashlight and the keys. In the hallway. I slipped on my shrimper boots.
    THE MOMENT THAT black van pulled up in front I knew. Which is the second reason why Frank’s First Call Boiler and Repair fucked me up.
    Marco.
    Three months earlier, the last time I was alone with Marco, was in another basement. 211 East Fifth – the first time I’d called Frank’s First Call Boiler and Repair . After getting hung up on all day, I’d finally I got a repairman sent over.
    My boss gave me specific instructions to stay with the repairman the whole time. Just to watch him. Make sure he doesn’t goof off. Plus you might learn something .
    Marco arrived in a black van. Maria Callas playing a little too loud. Baldini. He was in his late twenties, tall and thin. Dark faux Aviator glasses. Under his ballcap, his hair was short and jet black. Orange coveralls, Marco sewed in red above his pocket.
    He was sullen at first, you know like most straight guys, answered my questions with a grunt. I bought him a cup of coffee and he warmed up. Probably helped with his hangover. Turns out the oil pump had blown out and we had to undo the boiler assembly. I didn’t know my ass from my elbow about boilers, butmy boss had told me I had to stay, so I became Marco’s assistant – handing him tools and running to his van for shit.
    The first time I got a close look at Marco we were taking a break, standing outside in the sunlight in front of the basement door. A smashed nose that bent off to one side. One of those pencil-thin mustaches. Lips that seemed unreal, the way they were red. When he took his faux Aviators off, I mean I had to stare. His eyes were light brown, almost gray. Eyes like they could never look up into the sun or at God the Father or work for Frank’s First Call Boiler and Repair . Those sensitive eyes, the thin mustache, and his red lips, man. Marco must