"What do you think we should offer,' Mickey asked as they pored over the loan application at the kitchen table. Daisy was curled up on the floor, her head across Mickey's feet. The house that they had set their sights on was still on the market. But crunching the numbers showed they were a bit short.
Outside of `bringing home the bacon,' which was Mickey's responsibility, Drew was assuming almost all of the other traditional family duties, including the logistics of making an offer for the house. Even though Mickey's firm had advanced them some money for a down payment it was going to be tight. They still owed a not insignificant bi-annual tax payment on Drew's lake house. along with maintenance and upkeep on it, not to mention normal, day-to-day living expenses. It was a big burden for a couple just starting out. They wanted to get on with their lives, and besides, Mickey's Mom's house couldn't accommodate them all for very much longer.
Amongst the outlays was a new wardrobe for Mickey. The free clothes that he still had from Middlefield were stretched far beyond their original life span so Drew insisted that he start with new clothes for the new job. This was also a financial hit, but somehow or another Drew was able to make it work.
"We'll manage,' Drew always said. And as precarious as it was, it wasn't wishful thinking. He'd drawn up a sort of business plan for them for the next two years, working around the `big nuts' of the mortgage and the lake house expenses. There was even a section for surrogate expenses in about two years.
"What if we come in about 15% or so below asking, see if they bite. After all, it's been on the market now for at least 2 months. It's an inheritance anyway. They would probably just like to wash their hands of the property. At least I want to think that," Mickey said, trying to be optimistic.
"That's the kind of thing my Dad might say," Drew replied, elbowing Mickey as they both stared at their budget sheet that added up all the expenses.
"But he'd also say, `you can never tell.' So try to look at other ways that they might see the deal," he added. They role-played for a few minutes, looking at the different scenarios and counter-offer situations that might occur.
"But, bottom line," Drew added at the end of their brainstorming, "We can really only afford to pay about 95% of list price, which means that we should go with your suggestion of 15% to leave some negotiating room."
"What could we do that might make it more attractive that isn't money? Is there anything out there?" Mickey asked.
"I had questioned the agent about this, and she said that we could take it as-is, meaning the we don't get to negotiate any fixes, no matter what."
"Does that scare you?" Mickey asked.
"Yeah, a bit. My Dad told me about this kind of strategy, too. It might work with these folks, but we'd really have to get an inspection to know what we're getting into."
They discussed it for another half hour, going over the pros and cons of different offers, and even put in a call to their agent, who pretty much confirmed their scenarios.
As they wrapped up the call with the agent, Drew tapped the end' button on his phone. Looking at Mickey, he said "So...first offer, 15% below asking. We can move up in price to no more than 10% below, and then throw in the as-is' condition if we need to," Drew said
"Let's go for it," Mickey replied.
"Are you going to inspect me every day before I go to work?" Mickey asked as Drew straightened out the collar of his shirt.
"Just these first couple weeks. You're not in the groove yet, and so you might be distracted and then feel awkward later on," he replied. "And I get to keep fondling you too, at least for a couple more minutes," he teased.
Mickey just smiled. If anything, they were having more sex than when they had back at school. Not that it didn't feel awkward in his Mom's tiny house. But Drew was like a stealthy submarine as he seduced him almost every night and they seemed to be developing a kind of `quiet mode' if she happened to be home. It was one more thing that made him anxious to get the new place.
"This evening I think that we'll need your signature on the offer documents. I'll pick up everything and we can talk about it over dinner," Drew said.
"How are you feeling about it now, I mean, after sleeping on it," Mickey asked.
Drew picked up a comb from the nightstand and sharpened up the part in Mickey's hair. "It's been on the market for a couple months, which should have softened up the price. But you can never tell on these things. According to the agent, it's not just one person making the decision but a couple of heirs, so there's that dynamic to contend with, too."
"I'll only feel good when we have the title in hand," he continued.
"But that's when the work really starts, of course. There is a ton of stuff to do there, even if we don't have to take it completely as-is," Mickey said.
"I know," Drew replied. "But I'm looking forward to it, we can really make it ours. Fixing up the old trim, painting..."
"And taking down that fence!" Mickey added.
"For sure. That'll make the biggest difference."
Putting both hands on Drew's shoulders, Mickey said, "Call me anytime if you need anything. I don't totally rule my schedule, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can."
"I know, babe," Drew replied, kissing Mickey on the scarred side of his face and then reaching down and tweaking his crotch. Mickey's dick immediately stiffened.
"Oh Christ, not now!" he protested, smiling at the same time. "Please, don't get me hard before work. That will really be distracting," he added, swatting away Drew's wandering hand.
Drew winked his eye and stepped back, but not before giving him another peck on the other cheek. "I'll save it for later," he replied.
**
As they were around the table having dinner with Mickey's mom they heard Drew's phone ring. Craning his neck to see the screen as it lay on the nearby countertop, he glanced at the caller ID.
"It's our agent, I need to get this," he said, quickly putting the phone up to his ear.
"That's great...any conditions...that's good...what's next...oh...that, too...what else will the bank want...that's a lot of stuff..."
"Well, I have some good new and some...just news," Drew said as he closed the call and looked up a Mickey and his Mom.
"They accepted the offer," he announced, looking at Mickey, a big smile on his face.
"Fantastic!" Mickey said as got out of his chair and embraced Drew.
"Yup, that they did, which is, of course, great," he replied, returning his partner's embrace. But within a few moments, he pulled back and just looked at him.
"But now for the inspections, right?" Mickey asked.
"Yup. The banks want that for the loan, so that's the next bridge to cross."
"Are you worried?"
Drew thought for moment. "As the agent told me, it's an old house and there could be surprises, more than what popped up in the original inspection, which was just visual," he answered. "But in this next one they'll drill and pry things open and get a lot deeper."
"Whatever it is, we'll figure out a way handle it. But we can't claim victory quite yet. We've already maxed out our mortgage amount but the bank may require some of the fixes be done. There's a bit of a money cushion, but anything big would...be a problem."
"How long will the inspection take?" Mickey asked.
"The offer was contingent on these inspections, so the agent had already lined someone up. I think that they just need three or four days to get in there and then write the report. Then we'll see," Drew answered.
Exactly four days later, the numbers came into Drew's phone as they were watching TV. He sat up on the couch as Mickey grabbed the remote and turned down the volume. Drew glanced at the email text before quickly scrolling through the attachment.
"Holy cow!" Mickey said, reaching up and scratching his head as the two of them viewed the numbers on Drew's screen. Their cheeks were touching as they both squinted to read the words.
"$25,000 of termite work. $8,000 of code required electrical work. $3,000 of...," Drew read out the list, almost choking on the words, partly out of frustration and partly out of embarrassment that he had not noticed any of these things. The warts now all looked so obvious in the report, each carefully documented with photographs and paragraphs of text. It added up to almost a quarter of the offer amount.
Stroking Mickey's leg, Drew said, "This is why there are professionals who do inspections. It all looks so clear now, after they take pictures, document the problem and put a price tag on it. Gosh how did I miss this stuff!" he admonished himself.
"Only specialists can know these things," Mickey said, reaching down and gripping Drew's hand. "You've done as much research and work as any lay person can do!"
He looked into Drew's eyes. "Got it?!"
Drew shook his head yes and weakly squeezed back Mickey's hand. He paused for a few moments, looking down at the phone screen and, as he did so, leaned back into the couch. The battery saver had turned off the screen, so he tapped and looked at the numbers again.
"Hmmm..." he muttered to himself.
"What?" Mickey asked.
"You know, I think that I remember once my Dad telling me something about these kinds of situations. If he really wanted a deal he almost never let it get away. In this kind of circumstance, he might... um...turn it back on the sellers and use it to negotiate a better price," Drew replied. "If they want a deal, they need to share the pain so we need to see if we have motivated sellers."
Sitting up straight, he turned to Mickey. "Yes...yes...the good news is that we can probably recover some of it, especially if they want to sell in this market. We'll get as much as we can. I'll call the agent tomorrow and see what she thinks about a fair counter offer.
He slid closer to Mickey so that their shoulders were touching. "You really like this place, don't you?" he asked.
"Yeah, I do. Kind of silly, and I know I shouldn't be doing this kind of thing yet, but I was already imagining us living there. Kids in bedrooms, stuff like that. It's just what they tell you not to do, don't get your hopes too high, all that stuff. But it's hard not to dream a little."
"We both like it, and I don't yet think it's out of reach. But let me talk to the agent and then we'll go from there. OK?" Drew asked, bumping his shoulder into Mickey.
"OK," he responded, making his best effort to smile.
"Of course you can borrow the money, Drew" Casey responded, seeming surprised that he would ever doubt it.
"I don't want to make our problems into your problems, Case. There's a ton of repairs that the bank wants us to do, termites, foundation, furnace, roof, all sorts of stuff, practically $80,000 worth. and I've gotten the current owners to reduce the price to cover all but $10,000 of it. The lake house up for collateral, I've sold everything that I've had of any value, including the little bit of stock that I had left. The Porsche, or course, went a long time ago. So we're all-in on this."
"I have no doubt of that Drew," she replied. "If only you guys had met a year later you would have come into your part of the inheritance undisputed."
"This kind of stuff can't be timed," he replied, running his hands through his hair, with a half smile on his face.
There was silence on the other end of the line. "Are you there?" Drew asked.
"Oh...sorry, yeah, I'm still here. I was just...um...thinking about something."
"What's that?"
"Dad used to say, `When you're looking at houses, or any property don't get attached to anything too much. It weakens your bargaining position and there's always another house. That's how he started in business, and he always used that rule. As you know, I'm not really into this stuff much at all, but that's one motto that I do remember, and I'm sure that you do, too. I'm only bringing it up because I just want to make sure that this is what you want."
"I think that I heard that a million times from him, it was one of his golden rules. I know that Mickey and I are stretched on this. If this were just a business decision, maybe we would move on. But..."
"But what?"
"Case, I can tell that Mickey really loves this place. It has all the things going for it that he's ever dreamed of in a house to raise a family, including good neighbors. It's big enough for his Mom and us and a lot of kids," he answered, before looking at a picture of Mickey and him that was propped up on their dresser.
"Mickey talks at night about which kid should go in which bedroom. 'Where's the best place for a nursery? Should the oldest be near us, so that we can keep an eye on them, especially as teenagers, or the youngest, who would probably need us the most. Which room would Mom have, one of the regular bedrooms or the maid's quarters, which are in another part of the house. But maybe the oldest kids might want that one,' he said, smiling to himself, then continued.
"He even thinks about whether the home plate for baseball should be on our side of the backyard or Bik and Laura's side. He didn't' want to burden them with balls flying into their windows from home runs, but then I reminded him that foul balls could cause even more damage," he said, smiling to himself again. "In the end we decided that we'd discuss with Bik and Laura. Maybe it will just be a coin toss."
"He even wants to get married there!" he added.
"You know, It's not the palace that Dad lives in now, or the mansions up in Greenwich or places like that. But I know that it makes him happy. So I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure that that he gets what he wants."
"Do you like it?" she asked, her hand moving to her chin.
"Yeah, I do like it, a lot. It has so much going for it - lots of bedrooms, kitchen space, living room, a big basement, a nice layout. And of course, I love this idea of taking down the fence and sharing the backyards. But I could walk away from it too, if I had too," he said quietly, clarifying his own opinion of the house.
"But I'll be dammed it I let Mickey be disappointed. He's already scrimped and saved so much in his life," he said, his voice rising. "I practically had to force him to get a new wardrobe for work. Almost all of his nicer shirts were ones bought for him at Middlefield as a scholarship student. And that was back in high school!" Drew proclaimed, shaking his head. "The t-shirts were so thin and worn that you could practically see through them."
(He caught himself as he was about to tell her the good part about that---especially how the fabric was gently stretched along the front buttons, as his workouts over the years built up his slight chest to something firmer and more defined. It was so sexy and distracting that it drove him crazy with lust. When Mickey wore a t-shirt he just wanted to rip it wide open and feel up that chest, but...)
"Mickey took perfect care of them over the years, but even the best quality shirts are going to get frayed after being worn through an entire college and law school career. But that's how he's had to live."
She heard him sigh.
"You know what the really big thing is, though? To him, the house is already a refuge, just thinking about being here with only family and friends, people he knows. There doesn't seem to be a day that he doesn't come home exhausted. He has a demanding job that he actually enjoys, and he fits in well. But that's not what makes him so tired."
"What does?" she asked.
She could almost hear Drew swallow, it was so quiet. "He really likes the people at the firm, it's a great group, and Brad is a terrific mentor. And the work is interesting and he's learning a ton. But meeting so many new people has been draining," he said.
"Even though he proves himself with his work, and of course has a terrific personality, he can't help but see how people react to his face when he meets them."
"Of course, no one makes a big deal out of it," he continued, "but he notices when someone winces or seems to look to one side or the other. We've talked about it and knows that it's always going to be this way. But it affects him and he can't help it. So he gets through the day by focusing on the work and on the friendships that he's making there and all the good parts. He steels himself for introductions, new people or clients or whatever, and that's how it will always be."
"But when he gets home, he can leave it all behind. It's just people who know him and care about him. That's what he looks forward to."
"So I'm going to do whatever I have to do to make this place his." he added.
She waited a moment to make sure the he was finished.
"You remind me of Dad," she responded. "Do you remember? He couldn't tell Mom no' on anything. Not that she ever wanted much, she didn't need all the money he made or what she was born with. But I can't' help seeing how similar you are. You can't say no' to Mickey either."
Drew's eyes looked toward the ceiling, then down at the floor of the tiny kitchen. "Um...I guess I've never thought of it that way," he answered. "Whenever he asks for anything, I just do whatever I can to make it happen," he said, then quickly caught himself.
"But it's not like he ever asks for anything. He never thinks of himself. He just asks about his Mom, or Nate or me. It's always about other people. So I need to do this for him."
"What can we do to help you guys out?" Mickey asked, stepping on the horizontal rail and carefully stretching himself over the sharp pickets at the top of the fence. On the other side was a swarm of the Kovar family guys, laying out their arsenal of drills, crowbars, hammers and other tools for their assault on the fence.
"Not a lot right now, Mickey I don't know how they did it, but this fence was screwed together from our side, even though it's on your property. Luckily, Mike said that it looked like they used some really good quality deck screws, so we should be able to unscrew them without stripping off the heads," Brad said, referring to his partner Mike, the Architect in the family."
"Well thanks, for tackling this you guys. We really appreciate it!"
"No prob, guys," Bik replied. "You have no idea how happy Laura and I are to take this down, not to mention being rid of that prick who used to live there," he said, getting laughs from the rest of the crew around him."
"Well, whatever the motivation, we're glad that you can all help," he answered. "Drew and I will start to dig around the post foundations so that we can pull them out at the end of all this."
Bik, his brother Robert and their Dads Mike and Brad, along with their youngest brother, Peter, and his husband Marty were now arraying themselves evenly along the face of the fence. Having grown up with a Pop who like to putter in his wood shop, each of the Kovar boys had their own drills, along with spare batteries. Chessie and Brady were there, too, but their dad made them stand far back from the whirring and pounding of the tools.
"By the way, where is the baby?" Mickey asked, directing his voice in Peter's direction.
The two couples had finally met not long after the move, Brad finally able to introduce them only a week after Mickey started work. With Peter and Marty just starting their family, and Mickey and Drew hopefully not far behind, they immediately had a rapport. Along with the growing friendship between the couples, it didn't take long for them to become aware of Pete's hearing problem and how they needed to direct their voice to him.
"Oh yeah, she's inside with Laura," Peter replied, fitting the bit onto the head of his drill. "My Pop said that this is the noisiest one, so I'm probably the best person for it," he said with a cuckle.
It felt like forever, but it wasn't much more than three months since Mickey started his job, and they already had a house! The deal didn't take as long as all the specialist repair work that had to be done before they could close the sale.
Late summer rains had soaked into the clay soil, which made it extremely heavy. Mickey was sweating within minutes, especially because the dirt, rocks and potential wood splinters required him to wear jeans and gloves during the some of the hottest and most humid weather of the year. But with each turn of the shovel, it felt more and more like their house and his imagination went into overdrive about all the fun that they would have there.
As the Kovars gradually pulled boards off of the fence, revealing for the first time the real potential of the two yards together, he pictured swarms of kids running from one end to the other playing soccer or tag or some game that they made up. Or seeing them running through the spray of a garden hose. Or of a huge picnic, with everyone lined up at Bic's grill and taking their food to a long table groaning with food.
He even pictured the same kids, a hazy, shadowy playful mob, down at Drew's cottage, distributed between the big dorm rooms, making noise, slamming doors, then lined up at the counter of the big kitchen for their meal. Even the Kovar family was there.
Working two posts away, he saw that Drew had already exposed one concrete foundation block and was working to pile the excavated dirt for easy backfill. The soil was really dark, maybe good for a garden, he thought to himself. `We could plant tomatoes, onions, maybe a fruit tree. Mom would like that.'
Mickey could barely lift three-quarters of a shovel of dirt, but Drew seemed to throw around full loads with ease. They had both quickly shucked their long-sleeve work shirts, which helped a bit in dealing with the heat. But then he had to avoid getting distracted by Drew's newly revealed flexing arms, the biceps bulging into a peak as they strained the fabric of his already sweat-stained yellow t-shirt, triceps striated when he emptied a load.
He looked again at the t-shirt, which seemed much thinner and fit much tighter on him than his usual shirts. It was at least a size too small. It hugged his body like a second skin and became more and more transparent with each bead of perspiration.
Wait a sec..." he thought to himself. Is that one of my old t-shirts?'
After using his bunched-up shirt to wipe the beads of perspiration off his brow, Drew placed the shovel up against the fence. After giving Mickey a furtive glance, he raised his hands up as high as he could, stretching his entire body, every muscle in his torso rippling and straining against the by now translucent fabric. Bringing his hands down slowly to his sides, he pulled them back, stretching out his chest. The fabric was so thin and taut that Mickey could see the outlines of the dark red nipples.
He just stared for a moment, his mouth half open.
"You fucker," he whispered.
"Just dressing for the weather," he replied, giving Mickey only the briefest sly smile as he relaxed his chest before grabbing the handle of the shovel and pushing the steel blade quickly and deeply into the softened earth.
Unconsciously licking his lips, Mickey was only jarred back to reality by the laughter and banging and clanging of the Kovars on the other side of the fence as they continued to reveal the vista of the wide yard beyond.