The Dream World Collective

123. Rush Job

Alex curved his back in a luxuriant stretch, then bent over the next pile. A brief inspection revealed a bag of very fine golf clubs, a box of hardcover books in perfect condition and no particular order, and a few duffel bags filled with old fraternity paraphernalia and golf clothes in loose stacks. He sighed. This garage was beginning to feel like a sliding-number puzzle, with no space for a proper re-organization, just a slow shuffle of boxes and untouched equipment from one place on the floor to another.

"How's it coming?" boomed a voice from behind him. It was the owner of the house, who had introduced himself as Trey. He was in his early thirties, with puffy, boyish eyes and a pale chin that was starting to sag under the weight of a lucrative career. Alex straightened up and flexed his aching arms, doing his best to convey optimism.

"I've got it mostly straightened out." He pointed at the neat stacks he'd created. "That's sports equipment, that's boxes of books and old papers, that's going to be tools and hobby stuff." A small sigh escaped him. "But really you're going to want to get some shelves or something installed here at some point. There's only so much you can do reshuffling everything around without more surfaces to put it on."

"Sure," nodded Trey. "You know anyone who does that sort of thing?"

"What, construct shelves?" asked Alex. Trey nodded. Alex's mind blazed with excitement. Trying to maintain a professional demeanor, he smiled. "Sure. Actually I've got some carpentry experience. I could draw up some plans and get them to you the day after tomorrow if you want."

Trey's brow furrowed in uncertainty, and Alex added hastily, "Don't take my word for it. Look at the plan. If you don't like it, find someone else and no charge."

"No, man, it's not that. You're fine. You do good work. It's just I'm leaving on a business trip Monday and I'd love to have it out of the way by then, you know? Think you could get it done in time? I could pay extra for your trouble, obviously." Trey reached into his blazer's inner pocket and pulled out a checkbook and a pen.

Alex's jaw dropped open and snapped immediately shut. He thought fast. "Shelves on those two walls, floor to ceiling, say about three feet deep? Maybe a custom rack for your skis and golf clubs and all that?"

Trey nodded, his eyes at once piercing and a little glassy. Alex made a hasty estimate. It would probably take at least twenty man-hours, maybe a few more, by the morning after next. He'd need help, and he'd have to make sure he could get the materials right away, before the shops started closing. A grin spread across his face as the old adrenaline started pumping again.

"Let me make a couplecalls. If I can get my crew together I'll get back to you with an estimatewithin half an hour."6hMpr7H^z