In today's excerpt from Ain't Too Proud to Beg, Vaughn is still in the hospital when he makes a special request of his best buddy, Devon Burke.
I couldn’t have taken more than three bites of the apple and a couple of swigs of water before fatigue overtook me. Sometime later, the ringing of my cell phone woke me.
“Hey, V. Were you sleeping?”
“No. It’s the middle of the day. Why would I be sleeping?”
“Stop lying. You’re not punching a clock. It’s allowed.”
“Thanks for the reminder, man.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, V. Anyway, I’m calling with some good news. The real estate agent thinks she has a couple interested in subletting your condo. They’re offering cash upfront for the six months.”
Hearing this news brightened my day almost as much as when TC massaged my legs. “Yeah? That is good news, especially since my HOA fees run twelve hundred a month. Did she tell you anything about these people?”
“They’re young newlyweds considering relocating to the US. The husband is the son of an Iranian businessman, and he’s here to investigate some business opportunities for his father. He didn’t want to bring his new wife to this country and put her up in a hotel. He wanted somewhere that would feel like home while they’re here. The agent said they loved the furniture and décor.”
I laughed. “They should. I paid that decorator a fortune to get it right. What do you think about them?”
“Haven’t met ‘em yet. I wanted to check with you first. She said we could set up a meeting for tomorrow. If they sign the lease, she can overnight it to you for your signature and get the ball rolling.”
“She does understand the bed, the flat screens, and the sound system aren’t included. And they don’t have any kids, right?”
“I made those points clear in my first meeting with her, V.”
“Okay, I don’t want them getting their freak on in my bed, and I can’t have any rug rats tearing up my place, Dev.”
“It’ll all be laid out in the lease. No worries, man,” he reassured me. “Once the deal is done, she’ll have a professional organizer come to pack your personal stuff to go into storage.”
“One more favor then, man. I need you to get the real personal stuff out of there before this organizer comes. I don’t want to read a list of my toys in the National Enquirer.”
“Relax. They’ll pack and inventory everything.”
“You’re not hearing me. I need you to get some specific things out of my bedroom before the organizer comes in. They’re in the drawers underneath the bed and in the guest room.”
“Aww, you gotta be kidding!” he said, finally realizing what I meant. “I’m not touching that stuff.”
I laughed. “You’ll need to take some tools with you.”
“Tools? What kind of tools?”
“You know. A set of screwdrivers and maybe a pair of pliers.”
“Man, what are you getting me into?”
“Don’t stress, Dev. It’s only some minor disassembly. Take a couple of empty boxes with you.” He groaned and I chuckled again. “You’re the only one I can trust. Just box it all up really good, and mark it, uh…workout equipment.” I barked out a laugh.
A long groan rumbled through the phone, and I pictured him sucking in his already hollow cheeks. “I’ve done some stuff for you in the past, but this is crazy. When I write my memoir, I’m telling everything. You know you owe me, right?”
We both laughed at the absurdity of the situation. “You’re my boy. Thanks, Dev."