Chapter 4

“A hundred dollars?” He took the wallet out.

“I wasn’t here four hours,” I said meekly.

We had settled on twenty-five an hour. Hardly confident discussing money, I’d initially asked for ten, but as Sawyer had informed me, “No plumber worth his soldering gun works for that anymore.” He’d been proud of himself for knowing the tool. I figured he’d looked it up on his pricy phone.

“Close to it.” He counted off five twenties, and when I balked, just with my gestures, he pushed it closer to me, once again persistent. “There’s always a ton of work around here if you’re game. I don’t know how to do any of it.” His self-deprecating smile was endearing. “Christmas! How do you feel about hanging tinsel and stringing lights?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Listen, Bart…”

I’d given him my real name, not the one others still used, those I was lying to.

“I own a couple of buildings…I’m not sure if you’re looking for work. I…don’t know what your situation is.”