The Djinn’s Wish: Waylon
“Good mornin’ ma’am,” I said, tipping my hat to the woman that had just opened her door. She was dressed in a bathrobe, her hair was sticking out at odd angles, and she had a coffee cup in one hand. But as soon as she saw me, her jaw fell open. “I’m from the plumbing company,” I added with a smile. “We got a call about a blocked pipe that you need help with.”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded dumbly, her eyes raking over me lustfully. I always got that in these tight company t-shirts. “Come on in.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I replied, stepping inside with my tool bag. “Can you show me where the issue is?”
“Right this way,” she said, leading me through a meticulously decorated living room. Everything matched including the throw pillows, curtains, and even the little ceramic figurines arranged on the mantel. It didn’t feel like a house, it felt like a showroom.
She stopped at the bathroom door and pointed inside. “It’s the sink. Won’t drain at all. I’ve tried everything I can think of.” Her robe gaped open slightly as she gestured, and she made no attempt to close it.
“I’ll take a look,” I said, keeping my eyes firmly on the sink. “Thank you ma’am.”
“Great. I’ll, um... I’ll just go make myself presentable. Been cleaning all morning.” She touched her messy hair self-consciously. “Help yourself to anything you need.”
I nodded politely and set my tool bag down on the tile floor. As her footsteps retreated down the hall, I could hear her humming to herself. The bathroom sink was indeed clogged solid with the typical hair and soap scum situation. Nothing I hadn’t fixed a hundred times before.
I’d just removed the P-trap when I heard her return. The humming had been replaced by the click of heels on hardwood.
“So how’s it looking?” she asked.
I turned to find her leaning against the doorframe in a tight top and shorts that definitely hadn’t seen the light of day in at least a couple years. Her hair was brushed, makeup applied, and she smelled like she’d bathed in perfume. Clearly she was trying to make an impression. Or at least knock me out with perfume that cost more than my car.
“Found the problem, ma’am,” I said, unable to stop from grinning at this obvious mating display. It wasn’t the first time I’d see it from lonely housewives and it wouldn’t be the last. “Nothing major, just a blockage. I can have it cleaned out in a jiffy.”
“Where are you from if you don’t mind me asking?” she asked, propping her hip against the doorframe. “I detect a little Southern charm in that accent. We don’t get a lot of that up here.”
I kept my attention on the clog I was fishing out. “Yes ma’am. Little town in Georgia you probably never heard of.”
“Georgia! I justloveGeorgia. All those peaches and that sweet tea.” She sighed dramatically. “My cousin had her wedding in Savannah. Most romantic place ever.”
I nodded politely while continuing to work, pulling a mass of hair and gunk from the trap. The smell was unpleasant, but I was used to it. This lady’s flirting, however, was getting harder to ignore than the stench. She wasdesperate.
“You married?” she asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
I glanced up at her and that’s when I noticed it. The pale band of skin on her left ring finger. Recently removed wedding ring. Classic move.
“No ma’am, not married,” I replied, focusing on reconnecting the pipe. “But I am seeing someone.” It was a lie. I was single, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Oh?” Her voice perked up like I’d issued a challenge rather than a gentle rejection. “She must be something special to land a man who looks like you.”
I tightened the connection with my wrench, satisfied with the repair. “He thinks I’m the catch, but I disagree.”
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear the refrigerator humming from the kitchen. When I glanced up, her smile had frozen in place, eyes slightly widened.
“Oh,” she said finally, taking a small step back. “I see.”
I ran the water to check my work, watching it drain perfectly. “Looks like you’re all fixed up now.”
“Right. Yes. Thank you.” She’d crossed her arms over her chest, all that previous flirtation evaporating like morning dew. “How much do I owe you?”
I cleaned my tools and packed them away. “The office will send you an invoice. Standard rate for a drain cleaning.”
As I followed her to the front door, she maintained a careful distance. The show was over, and we both knew it.
“Have a good day, ma’am,” I said, tipping my hat again as I stepped outside.
“You too,” she replied quickly, already closing the door.