The doorbell rang. Jessie looked up from her knitting, then set it down and padded over to the front door. Peering through the dingy peephole, she could only see an indistinct, burly shape. A wave of nervous energy washed over her. “Who is it?”
“Handyman. I’m here for the kitchen sink.”
She shivered slightly. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
“You received a one-time pad when you made the appointment. It should be on the receipt.”
Jessie walked back into the kitchen, dug though the rental paperwork she still hadn’t fully read, and finally found the repair appointment. She returned to the front door and cleared her throat. “OK, it’s six—”
“No, ma’am. I’m supposed to read that number to you. That’s how you can tell I’m who I say I am.”
“Oh, of course.” She closed her eyes and smacked her forehead. “Go ahead.”
“Six, one, six, three, five, nine, nine, seven.”
Jessie smiled. “That matches!” She moved to open the front door, but the chain stopped her. Through the crack, she could see the handyman. Much taller than her, taller even than Dan, his muscular build was clearly visible through his medium-blue jumpsuit. Despite the heat, he had long sleeves. On top of his head was the same surveillance headgear she remembered being worn by the movers. Involuntarily, she locked eyes with him; the dark shadows in them seemed to accentuate his fierce glare. She froze.
“Ma’am? May I?”
She blinked. “Oh, of course. Sorry.” She closed the door, reluctantly disconnected the chain, and after taking a deep breath, opened the door. Now, she could see his name tag — “Henry”, with the now familiar U-P logo — and, with more light, she could see that the look in his eyes seemed placid, not fierce. He gave her a friendly smile; she returned it. “The kitchen is this way.”
She locked the door behind him as he walked inside. “Have you shut off the water yet?”
She turned to look at him, noticing how easily he hefted the heavy toolbox with one arm. “No…I’m not sure how to do that.”
“In apartments like these, it’s usually near the water heater. Can you take me there?”
“Of course.” He followed her past the master bedroom towards the laundry area; she stopped there. “The water heater is in this closet.”
He put down his toolbox with surprising grace, opened the closet, and looked inside. “Yep, the shutoff is right here.” He opened his toolbox to retrieve a medium-sized pipe wrench; attaching it to the valve, he began to turn it slowly, holding the pipe with his other hand. Jessie looked around nervously, her eyes darting down the hallway; there was no way to leave the laundry area without getting past him. Finally, he stopped pulling on the wrench. “Just a little sticky from not getting used much,” he trilled. “Nothing a soft touch couldn’t handle.”
As he replaced the pipe wrench in the toolbox, Jessie quickly slid by him. Henry looked up with surprise. “The kitchen is this way,” she called as she turned the corner. He shrugged and followed her.
Jessie stood apprehensively by the refrigerator as Henry walked in. He set down his toolbox and looked under the sink. “Oh, wow,” he cried out. “This will all need to be replaced.” He looked up at Jessie. “I wonder if the previous tenant ever washed dishes.” Jessie didn’t answer.
Pulling out his tools, Henry began disassembling the under-sink plumbing. Jessie stared at his head. “I couldn’t help but notice your headgear. The movers that packed up our house wore something like that.”
Henry snorted slightly. “Yeah, standard issue. Keeps us out of trouble, I guess.” He reached deeper under the sink, his head partially disappearing from view.
Jessie’s lips drew together. “Does that mean you’re also a prisoner?”
“Yes,” he answered nonchalantly.
Jessie withdrew into the corner of the kitchen near the refrigerator; her breathing became uneven.
Henry poked his head out. “Hey, no need to worry about me; my headgear keeps me under surveillance. In any case, I wouldn’t have been allowed in here if they thought I was any sort of risk.”
“And how did they determine that?” she huffed.
He shrugged. “I’m not really sure, given the severity of my crime. But I do have a history of good behavior since being committed. I’m really trying to put my life back together.”
“Dare I ask what you did?”
Henry leaned out from under the sink, carrying the first load of damaged pipes. He looked up at Jessie sheepishly, not meeting her gaze. “Triple homicide.”
Jessie blanched. “What?! And they let someone like you into my apartment?!”
Henry didn’t answer; he leaned under the sink again, continuing to remove pipes.
Jessie swallowed hard. “Want to tell me what happened?”
Henry let out a short laugh. “Seems only fair. I’m not making any excuses for what I did, but…when I left high school, I didn’t have a lot of prospects. Being a sports star didn’t count for anything anymore; people wanted to know what I could do for them now. And all I had was my strength and agility; I could push people around. So I fell in with a bad crowd.”
Suddenly there was a metallic snapping sound. “Crap. Well, it was coming out anyway.” Henry emerged with a broken pipe, putting it into his trash pile. “Can I get some spray cleaner and some paper towels? I’d like to wipe out the wall socket before putting in new plumbing. They didn’t send me with anything like that.”
“Oh…sure.” She grabbed a bottle of spray cleaner from the counter, wadded up some paper towels from the roll dispenser, and handed them to him. “Thanks,” he said as he smiled agreeably, disappearing again under the sink.
“Anyway,” he continued, “before I knew it, I was involved with all sorts of shady stuff. Mostly smuggling, that kind of thing. Lots of intimidation. But nothing involving the general public. Fast forward a few years, and I found myself fighting for my life with members of a rival gang. I killed three of them before the rest ran away. The police really didn’t like how they were armed and I wasn’t; they thought I was lying. But it was true…I killed them with my bare hands. And now I’m serving twelve to fourteen.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“And then you became a plumber?” Jessie asked incredulously.
“I tried several trades inside prison,” Henry explained. “I found I was good at this, plus I could heft heavy steel pipes.” He emerged with the soiled paper towels; removing the top tray from his toolbox, he began to remove a series of pipes, elbows, valves, and seals, looking occasionally under the sink before adjusting the set of parts.
“How long have you been on work release?”
“A few weeks now.” He began deftly assembling the parts together.
“You don’t mind being forced to work?”
“Not at all,” Henry assured her. “It’s much better than rotting away in a cell, and besides, it’s no worse than the life of the average member of the working poor. I figure that’s fair.”
“I’m glad to hear it’s not so bad,” she replied, smiling.
He returned her smile. “Besides, I find it’s a great way to meet women.”
“I’m married!” Jessie snapped haughtily.
He looked at her apologetically. “I wasn’t implying anything, ma’am. I’m sorry for any offense.”
Jessie looked down sadly. “No, I’m sorry. I’m giving you the third degree, and you don’t deserve that.”
Henry smirked. “Well, I do, actually. You go right ahead and hold me to a high standard. I won’t protest.”
She looked at him for a few moments. “So you’re telling me women are interested in prisoners?”
He finished assembling the parts and leaned under the sink again. “Well, not as such. But, unlike random guys on the street, my background has been investigated. I’ve been screened for all communicable diseases. And it’s not like I’m currently wanted for anything! That actually makes me less of a risk than some random stranger.”
“I never thought of this that way,” Jessie observed. “I sure wish Dan had admitted we were behind on the rent; the eviction came as a complete surprise. I wish I could have investigated him beforehand.”
Jessie heard Henry click his tongue. “Wow, that’s rough. Still, it looks like things are better for you now…for me, too.”
She looked at him as he worked. “I hope it works out for you.”
Henry momentarily leaned out from under the sink to catch her eye with a sly look, before returning. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? You went from being terrified of me, to sympathizing with me. That didn’t take long.”
Jessie giggled. “I guess you’re right.” She gazed at his muscular torso briefly. “Somehow, you make it easy.”
“That’s good to hear,” he replied. “I really want to put my life back together; I’m done being a criminal. I’m grateful that Unlimited Partners is giving me this chance; the old system just wanted to lock me away, then throw me back onto the streets with no prospects, and no one willing to give me a chance. But they tell me, if I handle the responsibility of my work release, I have a job waiting for me once I’m out.”
“I have no doubt you’ll make it,” Jessie agreed.
Henry emerged from under the sink. “That should be fixed!” He grabbed a small pipe wrench and proffered it to Jessie. “Can you turn the water back on? You saw what I did to turn it off; just do that in reverse. I should stay here and check for leaks.”
“Glad to!” She snatched the wrench from his hand and flitted to the water-heater closet. Mimicking his actions, she held the pipe as she slowly turned the valve. It gave way under her strength very easily; finally, it was fully open. She quickly returned to the kitchen to find Henry’s head under the sink. “Everything looks good here! Turn the faucet on and off, please.”
She leaned over him to do so. It worked fine. “Everything looks good here, too,” she answered, a lump rising in her throat.
Henry looked at the pile of debris on the floor. “I don’t suppose I could use your—” But Jessie had already moved the trash can closer to him. “Much obliged, ma’am!” It took a few handfuls to dump the whole mess into the can; he wiped up the remainder of the mess with the cleaner portions of the paper towels. Finally, he packed the tools back into his toolbox, and moved to stand up.
Henry smiled. “All done here!”
Jessie pouted. “So soon? I’m sorry to see you go.”
Henry gave her a demure smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“My name is Jessie,” she fluttered. “I should have told you that earlier.” She smiled at him coquettishly. “I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon…Henry.”
“Everyone calls me Hank,” he offered.
“Of course they do.” Their eyes locked, each staring comfortably at the other.
Hank broke into a wide grin, then looked up at his headgear. “Well, overlord? Any problems here?”
The headgear emitted a few noncommittal machine sounds before replying in a synthesized voice. “I see no rule violations. She initiated the contact. Permission granted. But it’ll be deducted from your lunch time.”
“I think I can handle that,” Hank said coyly. He looked at Jessie again. “Well, I hate to romp and run, but it’s all I’m allowed to do.”
She grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him out of the kitchen. “I prefer it that way.”
They disappeared into the master bedroom. His last words for some time were “I love my job!”
◊ — ◊ — ◊
Ron watched Hank as he scarfed down his food. “What’s with you today?”
Hank gripped his soda tighter as the truck hit a bump in the road; he momentarily stopped shoving his cheeseburger into his mouth and swallowed. “No big deal; I had to eat and run today. I’ll clean up any mess I make, obviously; I don’t want it to count against me. I know I’m being watched.”
Ron shook his head, staring levelly at Hank. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about your ear-to-ear grin.” The other guys, sitting on the bench seats in the back of the box truck, leered as they listened to the conversation.
Hank looked up as he chewed his next bite, his eyes gleaming.
Ron laughed. “Really, again? What is it with you?” Hank continued to chew. “So who was it this time?”
Hank swallowed. “A bored, put-upon housewife. Cute, in a nerdy librarian sort of way. My arm tattoos startled her at first, but she quickly got over it.” He looked away dreamily for a moment. “She had lots of enthusiasm.”
Ron gestured incredulously. “I can’t believe the overlord lets you do that. Seems like there’d be a rule against it.”
“I guess the A.I. looks at it logically, not emotionally. It doesn’t understand what the problem would be. And it only cost me some free time during my lunch break.”
The voice in Hank’s headgear came to life. “Upon further consideration, you won’t be penalized for the time spent delivering enhanced customer service; you just received a five-star rating and a glowing review. The overlord considers this a strong contribution to the positive image of the firm.”
Hank smirked before taking a big gulp of soda. “What he said.” He sighed happily. “Just one more reason why I love this job!”
“And what if the husband finds out?” one of the guys jeered.
Hank’s headgear spoke again. “The overlord considers this experience to be statistically likely to strengthen their marriage, due to the female partner working through her stress, plus it’s statistically unlikely the male partner will ever find out.”
Ron laughed as he shook his head. “Gotta love cold logic.”
Hank shrugged. “Hey, it’s collating a huge number of real-world experiences to come up with that decision. Who am I to say that it’s wrong? I’m just one person and one viewpoint.”
“You’re more than just that,” another guy interjected. “You’re a lucky dog!”
The guys cheered as Hank smiled broadly, trying to finish his lunch.