Chapter 8 - Tool Time.
It took Brian almost a week before he felt recovered enough to start again on the cleaning up and unpacking. Thankfully, with regular applications of Deb’s chicken soup and the kind, if invisible, attentions of his handy Nursemaid Ghost, Brian eventually shook off the cold and was able to get back to his normal routine. Another week or so later, and he had finally finished unpacking all the boxes in both the basement and the garage and had disposed of the junk he decided he didn't want. The relatively few things he'd decided to keep, including two or three decent pieces of furniture and about five boxes of random stuff, were consolidated in a pile in the back of the garage.
The biggest find he'd made was the huge chest freezer which had been unearthed from behind the tallest wall of boxes in the very farthest, most cluttered, corner of the garage. When he'd come across it, after moving aside one perilously unsteady tower of cardboard cartons, he was surprised to see the thing still plugged into a nearby outlet and apparently in working condition. He could even feel the motor quietly humming away on the big beast.
Unfortunately, the damned thing was locked so he couldn't open it. That gave him pause. He tried not to think about all the bad TV crime shows he'd seen, where the bad guy hid his dismembered victims in a similar freezer, but, well . . . Until Brian could get it opened, there really wasn't any way to know for sure. However, on the off chance that it was just a locked freezer and not a makeshift coffin, Brian decided not to break the lock to get it opened. If it could be salvaged, he'd keep it and use it for himself. He made a mental note to call a locksmith later on and then just tried to ignore the thing for the time being. He found himself avoiding that section of the garage afterwards, though.
As soon as the clearing out was complete, Brian contacted an architect friend of his to come out and take a look at the place. Andy was a former trick who had somehow done the impossible and actually managed to strike up a friendship with Brian after the fact. They'd been fuck buddies for about five years now. Brian had also used his services a couple of times for help on some of the renovations he'd done in the past at his old loft. He really trusted Andy’s judgement and definitely wanted the man's input on his new house. Andy was happy to come out and take a look at Brian's new project, and offered to pick up a copy of the building’s blueprints from the county on his way out so they could use those as a starting place for Brian's plans.
Brian was ready for Andy’s visit - he had a blanket laid out in front of the empty fireplace with pillows heaped on top, a six pack of beer cooling in a bucket nearby, supplies of condoms and lube at hand, and was wearing only a tool belt when he answered the door. Andy laughed, tossed the role of blueprints he’d been holding to the side, and smiled as he towed Brian by his tool belt towards the little love nest set up on the living room floor. Once the fucking had been taken care of - to the satisfaction of both men - they continued to lay there on the floor, naked, while they looked over the house plans, drank their beers, and discussed Brian’s renovation ideas.
Andy was enthusiastic about all of Brian’s ideas. He did have some cautions for the homeowner, such as which walls would have to stay, at least in part, because they were load-bearing, and the best way to reconfigure the bedrooms upstairs. But, for the most part, he agreed with everything Brian wanted to do. At a certain point they got up off their pallet of cushions so that Brian could take Andy upstairs and ask his advice on what to do about the bathrooms. The two men proceeded to tour the house, still naked, with only the blueprints in hand.
Upstairs, Brian explained to Andy how he wanted to expand the master bedroom to take over the smallest of the house’s other four bedrooms, creating one large room with a sitting area, spacious bathroom with a freestanding whirlpool tub and a huge walk-in closet. The bedroom next to Brian’s would then become Gus’ room and it would share a bathroom with what would become a guest bedroom. Brian didn’t know what to do with the last of the rooms up there, he thought he’d just leave it for the time being and maybe turn it into another guest room if that was needed in the future. Andy walked around, scanning the area and comparing what he saw to the blueprints as he made a few minor suggestions. The biggest hang up to Brian’s plans was going to be the need to completely retrofit the plumbing, which was old and totally inadequate for what Brian wanted to do. Other than than, Brian figured he could probably do most of the work upstairs by himself, which was good for his budget.
The stairs were going to be reconfigured so that they made a turn about halfway down and landed in the soon to be expanded kitchen. Andy liked that idea as well, pointing out that it would give Brian another six feet of space in what would be the Greatroom. That, along with taking out the walls to what used to be the dining room would open up the whole ground floor except for a room separated from the rest by the remodeled stairs that would end up being Brian’s study/office. They talked at length about how to create storage spaces in the greatroom, whether or not to move the door to the study so it would be accessible directly from the kitchen, and whether Brian might want to consider expanding the tiny half-bath on the main floor. Again, Brian was happy to hear that most of the renovations he had in mind would be simple enough for him to handle them on his own. Andy did have some reservations about the wiring, but until Brian started opening up some of the walls, they wouldn't know if that needed replacing as well or not. Unfortunately, he’d have to call in some pros if he did need electrical work.
Back in the kitchen, Andy walked Brian through the technicalities of framing in an island for a sink and a chest refrigerator with seating space for several barstools. It would be a tricky refit, but it was doable. Which was great, because it meant that Brian would have the space to tear out all the existing cabinets, install a really nice, chef’s quality stove and range and a wood fired pizza oven. He planned to keep the antique baking hutch but would supplement his storage space with all new custom-built cupboards framing the piece all along the end wall. He also planned to replace the rickety old back door with a set of nice glass double patio doors opening out onto the back where he was planning on building a large wooden deck.
“What the fuck are YOU going to do with a kitchen like that?” Andy couldn’t help teasing his old friend. “You don’t even know how to cook for fuck’s sake. What you have planned would be way more kitchen than you’ll even know what to do with. If you ask me, you should go with a bachelor’s-style utility kitchen and use the extra space for your study. You’ll get more use out of it.”
“Fuck you, Andy,” Brian complained, hitting his friend over the head with the roll of blueprints. “I’ll have you know I CAN cook, I just choose not to. But out here in the country, where we don’t have the modern amenities of take out, I’ve actually been trying my hand at the art a little more. Besides, if the goal is to flip this place, I’ll get a lot more if I include a nicer kitchen than if I use the space for a study.”
Andy had to concede that was true and they spent a little more time talking through some of the issues that Brian’s grandiose plans engendered. Most of it wouldn’t be that difficult, but what he was calling for would definitely require a lot of professional plumbing and electrical work. Brian said he didn’t care, he was going all out on the kitchen and the bathrooms. Andy thought about it again, screwed up his face in concentration, rolled out the blueprints on the kitchen table and then went back to walking around the space with a confused look.
“What’s wrong?” Brian asked with concern.
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly,” Andy did one more comparison between the plans and the room itself before he reached a conclusion. “It’s just that there seems to have been some modifications to this area that aren't on the original plans. See over here?” He pointed to the back wall of the kitchen where Brian had planned to put in the new patio doors. “It looks like there's about five or six feet of the kitchen that’s been walled off. And, if I’m not mistaken, that space continues upstairs. I noticed another area of about three feet between your bedroom and what will be your son’s room that also seems to be unaccounted for on the blueprints. I’m just not sure why. What's down below here, I wonder?”
Without waiting for Brian to answer, Andy was already striding off towards the basement stairs. Brian followed on his heels. When the architect reached the now emptied out basement, he strode around for a bit, pacing off the dimensions of the room and looking at the blueprints he’d brought along with him. When that didn’t seem to answer his questions adequately, he headed through the dividing door into the garage area and repeated his performance.
“Hmm. Well, I’m still not sure what’s with the modifications up there. I imagine, once you start tearing out walls, it’ll make more sense. But, I’m thinking maybe the prior owners had to put in a ventilation shaft or something? See, if you look at the plans here,” Andy turned and spread the plans out over the top of the big freezer holding the dead body in the corner, “you can see that there’s supposed to be a crawl space under the east end of the house. This end, the western wing, sits lower on the slope of the hill where the house was built and therefore you’ve got full sized rooms. But that end of the building only had a small utility space added under the foundations. If the drainage is poor or there were other problems with the septic system that empties off that side of the house, they might have tried to offset those issues by adding in a ventilation shaft that goes up through that end of the house to the roof line here.” He pointed to the plans again, outlining where he thought the venting might be located. “If that’s the case, you might have some problems with your renovations, Brian. You’d have to either adjust your design to accommodate that venting area or make other arrangements. If we could find the crawl space entrance, we could go in there and get a better idea of what’s what. There should be an access hatch somewhere around here . . .”
Brian and Andy spent a little time knocking around on the walls in the basement until, after a good fifteen minutes, they located what might be the crawl space hatch. Since the walls of the basement were all paneled with rough wood, it was hard to tell for sure. It didn’t help that there was only one small light fixture in the entire space and the dim bulb hanging there didn’t give off much illumination. They did find one spot, though, where it sounded like there was a hollow space behind the paneling. Feeling along the edge of the wood there, Brian thought he detected a small gap. He tried to pull the wood away, but it wouldn’t budge. Even with Andy helping, the two of them couldn’t get that section of paneling to come away from the wall. It definitely seemed like that was the access hatch though.
“Damn. I can't figure out why this is stuck like this,” Andy complained, finally giving up trying to pry at the wood with his bare hands. “It should just swing right open. It’s almost like there’s something on the other side preventing us from opening it.”
“Well, I've got a sledgehammer upstairs. If you want to bust through the wall it should be easy. Although,” Brian looked down at himself and his lack of clothing before his eyes trailed back up Andy's still naked body, “since we're not exactly dressed for a trip into the bowels of the earth, how about we just blow this off to go back to fucking? I can always worry about this shit later.”
“I think that's a really excellent plan, Brian. You always have the best ideas. About fucking, at least,” Andy agreed with a mischievous smile. Then he chuckled and dashed for the stairs. “First one upstairs gets to top!”
“Yeah, right. In your dreams, Bottom Boy!” Brian yelled with a chuckle of his own as he chased the architect back up the steps.
Brian never did make it back downstairs with his sledgehammer. He and Andy were rather busy the rest of that afternoon and pretty much all of the night too. What with all the work he’d been putting in on the house and being sick the week before, Brian hadn’t gotten out much lately and had really needed a night like that. He had therefore taken full advantage of Andy’s willing and available ass. By the time he kissed Andy goodbye at the door the next morning, Brian had almost completely forgotten about the damned crawl space. And, when he did remember, he shied away from the idea of getting in there - if the body of his ghost boy wasn’t actually in the freezer, then it was probably in the fucking crawl space, and Brian really wasn’t that eager to find it anyway.
He was eager to get started on the next phase of the project - the demolition. That was always the funnest part of any construction project as far as he was concerned. Smashing things with hammers and crowbars, tearing out nails and screws, pulverizing drywall into a puff of chalk . . . The little boy in him reveled in that part of the job. He’d even put off his writing for a few days so he could spend all his time destroying things to his heart's content
One afternoon, while Brian was happily slamming his sledgehammer into the wall of what would someday become the upstairs guest bathroom, he noticed the lights flickering on and off. He quickly set down his sledge, took out the earplugs he'd been wearing to protect his hearing during the times when he had to use the Sawzall, and looked around him to try and figure out what was up with the lights. That’s when he realized that the telephone attached to the new land line he’d just had hooked up the day before was ringing. He jogged into his bedroom and picked it up with a breathless ‘Hello?’.
“Hi, Brian. It’s me,” Lindsey’s voice came through the small phone speaker, sounding harried and rushed. “I know it’s short notice and all, but I was calling to see if you could take Gus for a couple days. One of Mel’s clients settled a case today and the woman was so happy with her award, she’s springing to take the two of us along with her and her partner for a weekend spa getaway. It’s really not the kind of place you can bring your kids though . . .”
Brian was thrilled with the idea. “Of course, Lindz. I’d love to have Gus. Do you want me to come pick him up or are you going to bring him out here?”
“Well, it would be easier for us if you could come get him,” Lindsey’s voice sounded hesitant though. “There’s just one thing . . . Michael mentioned the other day something about your house being haunted? That’s all just Michael’s wild imagination, right? There's nothing I should be worried about, is there?”
Brian looked around him at the seemingly normal house, where his resident ghost had just alerted him to the phone ringing by flickering the lights . . . And lied his ass off. “You know Michael. He tends to get carried away. I never even listen to half of what he says”.
“Okay. I guess you’re right,” Lindsey easily capitulated, probably so glad to get a babysitter for the weekend that she’d believe anything. “Michael DOES have a very vivid imagination. I think it’s because he reads way too many comic books.”
Brian politely laughed along with Lindsey before making plans as to when he should pick Gus up and when the Munchers would be back. Since he had to be at Lindsey’s house in less than two hours, Brian decided it was time to call it a day and get things cleaned up. He stowed his sledge hammer and saw, swept up the detritus as quickly as possible and jumped in the shower.
And, all the while he was getting ready, he was silently fretting about just what his shady specter would do while his son was in the house.
On the way back from picking up Gus, Brian had the brilliant idea to stop at the toy store and pick up a set of toy tools for the boy. There was a small plastic hammer, a screwdriver, and even a pretend saw, all contained in a faux leather tool belt that looked enough like his father’s real deal that Brian hoped Gus would be content. Gus demanded to wear the tool belt immediately, of course. They also stopped by Sue Ann’s store long enough to introduce the boy - which further endeared Brian to the older lady to the point that she could have sworn her ovaries were doing flip flops at the sight of the beautiful younger man and his son - and picked up a good supply of junk food that should last for the duration of the kid’s visit.
By the time they got back to the house, it was too late to do any real work, so Brian and Gus just had dinner and then contented themselves with curling up in bed together watching kiddy videos until Gus finally dropped off to sleep. Then Brian carefully carried the boy to his own room, depositing the small form in the twin-sized bed that he’d providentially picked up just the week before. Brian bent to leave a kiss on the slumbering child's forehead and then softly padded back to his own room to amuse himself for a few more hours on the computer.
Around about eleven thirty, Brian signed off from the chat room he’d been lurking in and decided it was time for him to turn in as well. Gus would undoubtedly be up bright and early and wanting his daddy’s attention. Brian quickly scurried downstairs to make sure the door was locked and all the lights turned off before heading back up to his own room.
Only, as Brian was walking past Gus’ room this time, he heard giggling coming from inside. He was curious, so he put his ear to the door, but could only hear a low murmuring and no real words. When he gave in to his curiosity and went in, he found Gus sitting up in his bed with a big smile on the cherubic face.
“I thought you were asleep, Sonny Boy,” Brian said with a paternal smile at his offspring.
“I had a bad dream and I woked up, Daddy. Den I got scary cause I din amember where I was, so’s I cried. But the boy in the wall came out an tolded me funny jokes so’s I laughed instead,” Gus explained with childish innocence. “He's so funny. An he drawed me a pitcher too. See.”
Gus handed His father a sheet of sketch paper with a beautiful charcoal drawing of Gus and Brian from earlier in the evening when they were sitting together in the kitchen. Brian was amazed at the artwork, but also alarmed by the idea that some disembodied spook was coming out of the walls to talk with his son. He didn't want Gus to be frightened or hurt.
“Are you okay, Sonny Boy? Did the boy you saw scare you?”
“No, Daddy. You're silly. He's a nice boy. He smiles a lot an telled jokes an did nice things. He's not scary, Daddy,” Gus quickly reassured him. “I like the boy dat lives in your walls.”
Brian relaxed a bit after hearing this reassurance. At least Gus wasn't scared. And, after taking another look at the picture he was still holding in his hands, Brian felt even better. The drawing was a beautiful rendition of himself and Gus sitting together. The boy was perched on Brian's knee, smiling up at his father with an adoring look. Brian’s matching smile was directed down at his son. It was such a touching and intimate scene and it was so poignantly rendered. Brian was impressed, both by the artwork as well as by the sentiment the drawing evinced.
Surely anyone - or anything - that could create something this beautiful, couldn't be dangerous, right?
The next day, after a busy morning spent running around in the woods behind the house with Gus ‘helping’ his Daddy do yard work, Brian finally put the tired boy in bed for a nap. While the tyke was napping, Brian decided to spend some more time on his renovations. He loved having his son over for a visit, but playing Daddy certainly wasn't conducive to getting much real work done. He needed to use whatever spare time he could drum up as efficiently as possible.
Brian was downstairs in the living room area, pulling off the old floor and window molding, and making a lot of noise in the process as he hammered, pried and occasionally fired up his Sawzall to cut through nails, and wasn’t really paying attention to anything else. It wasn't difficult work, just messy and loud. All of a sudden, he heard wailing coming from the kitchen. Brian dropped everything and ran towards the noise. When he got there, he found Gus, sitting on the floor, sobbing.
“What’s wrong, Buddy?” Brian rushed to gather up his son into his arms.
“The boy in the wall tooked my hammer!” the child sobbed. “I don’t like him no more. He’s mean!”
“He took your hammer?” Brian repeated, surprised to hear that his ghost companion would do something so brazen. “That doesn’t sound like Justin. Why would he do that?”
“Cuz he’s mean!” Gus asserted, sniffling and rubbing his snotty face against his father’s chest. “I jus wanted to maked a tower and he tooked my hammer away and he went back in his wall wif it.” This recitation caused the boy to break out in tears again, as he pointed towards the back corner of the kitchen where the old hutch stood.
Brian followed the child’s gesture and saw a spot of bright red up near the ceiling. With Gus in his arms, he walked closer. And there, up on the very top of the hutch, was the missing red and green plastic hammer. Brian reached up to grab it and dislodged an old, rusty, bent nail that had been resting under the toy hammer. Brian put Gus down on the floor and handed him back his hammer. Gus smiled through the remaining tears and thanked his father then bent down to grab at the nail too.
“Give me the nail, Buddy,” Brian demanded, holding out his hand for the sharp object.
“No. Mine!” Gus responded angrily, turning his back to his father and holding onto the nail even more tightly in his chubby fist.
“Gus. I told you before, no nails. They’re too sharp and dangerous. Now, give it to me.”
“But I needs it to builded my tower!” Gus insisted, the sniffling starting up again as he noted the stern expression on Brian’s face.
“Gus!” Brian demanded, holding out his hand and waiting until the boy relented and handed over the nail. “I’m sorry, Gus, but nails are too dangerous. You can play with your hammer but no nails, okay?”
“You’re as mean as the boy in the wall. I don’t like you neither,” Gus replied with a stubborn pout as he turned and toddled away from his father.
Brian shook his head at the adorably determined little boy. He certainly was a handful. However, a minute later, he heard the hammer pounding against something wooden, and figured that all was once again well. He put the confiscated nail in his pocket, thinking that it was probably a good thing that Justin had taken the hammer away if Gus had been using it to play with real nails.
Just when he was about to return to his own work, intending to clean it up and put his tools away now that it looked like Gus wouldn’t be taking a nap after all, the hammering noises coming from where Gus was changed from a wooden thunking to the sound of something metal being banged around. Brian quickly changed direction and went in search of his destructive offspring. On the other side of the wall to what had been the dining room, he found Gus seated on the floor surrounded by several of the metal canisters full of wood flooring stripper that he’d purchased for when he was ready to refinish the floors. It looked like Gus had already been busy with the cans. Several were stacked up in a wobbly tower, with scraps of wood intermixed in the grouping like wooden blocks. The fact that Gus had been playing with the cans was bad enough, but when Brian saw what was making the noise, he got even more upset. Gus had pulled one of the larger canisters over to him and was currently hammering and prying at the lid, evidently intent on getting it open.
Brian darted in, grabbing away both the hammer and the cannister. Gus started wailing again, demanding that Brian give him back his hammer. In passing, Brian noted that the lid of the metal can had several little divots and scratches on it, consistent with marks that might have been made if the boy had previously been using his purloined nail on it. That scared Brian more than the kid just banging on them with the hammer - the chemicals were not only toxic if ingested but could be quite caustic and might irritate or even burn the skin if it was spilled on someone. And here was his precious son, diligently trying to pound holes in the container. Thank fuck Justin had taken the hammer and nail away from the little terror.
“No, Gus! You can’t pound on these cans,” Brian hollered at the child who was now on his feet trying to pry his hammer out of his father’s hand. “Stop, Gus! Just stop!”
The child’s face crumpled as soon as Brian yelled at him. He sat back down and began to cry in earnest. Brian had never really yelled at him like that. Of course, he’d never been that scared for Gus either. Taking a deep breath, Brian shoved the toy hammer into his pocket, gathered all the cans of stripper and toted them back to the kitchen where they were placed, safely, on the top of the hutch, well out of reach of naughty little boys. When everything dangerous was put away, he went back to his son, whose tears were finally tapering off again. He picked the boy up and carried him to the kitchen table where he could sit and hold him.
“All done now, Gus?” Brian asked when the boy finally fell quiet. Gus nodded. “Okay. Now, we have to talk about this, Buddy, okay?” Another nod. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, but it’s only because you scared me. Those cans you were hammering at have bad stuff in them. It’s poisonous. Do you know what that means?” he asked. Gus didn’t answer but his face showed his confusion. “It means that the chemicals inside them could make you sick or hurt your skin. And the way you were hammering on them, could have made the containers open up and spill on you, which would have been bad. That’s why I was scared, because I was worried you were going to get hurt. Do you understand?” Gus reluctantly nodded again. “Good. So, no more hammering on cans, okay? You can play with the wood if you want but no nails and definitely no cans or anything else like that. Understand?” he asked again, getting a small ‘uh huh’ from the boy.
Then, curious, Brian asked one more question. “Were you hammering at the cans when Justin took your hammer away the first time? And maybe using that nail you found on the cans too?” Gus didn’t say anything at first, but Brian held the boy away from him, staring until the boy finally fessed up and nodded again, this time with a guilty look. “No wonder Justin took your hammer away, Sonny Boy. You do understand he wasn’t doing it to be mean, right? He was trying to protect you, just like I am. It’s a good thing he was there, too, since I didn’t even know you were out of bed . . .” Brian finished, speaking more to himself than his son at that point. Finally, turning towards the wall where the ghost boy supposedly lived, at least according to Gus, he spoke up. “Thank you, Justin. Good save there.”
Brian would have to find some way to show his appreciation for the guardian ghost who’d helped protect his son. But then again, what did you get for your ghost housemate as a thank you? He could already take whatever he wanted of Brian’s. So what else did Justin want, need or like? Brian’s mind went back to that time a few weeks earlier when he’d found his dildo missing, a porn movie playing and had done a show for the ghost boy. Maybe they could have a little sexy demonstration time again later that night after Gus was in bed? Assuming that the little scamp would actually go to sleep and stay that way, of course.
“Hey, Buddy.” Brian turned back to his son, determined to put the hammer incident behind them. “How about we go upstairs to my room and watch a video or something, huh?” It was the best way, he thought, to distract his mischievous son from the interrupted tower building project. Plus, Brian hoped that a movie might just be the thing to finally knock his grouchy son out so he’d go down for what was obviously a much needed nap.