Monday Night Man Read Free Page A

strolled whistling to the bathroom.
    A minute later Horst heard the water running in the tub. He shouted and ran to the door. It was locked.
    â€œThis isn’t part of the deal!”
    â€œI need a bath!”
    â€œGo walk through a car wash!”
    â€œCan’t hear you!”
    When Rupp came out he said he’d buy Horst another toothbrush, and by the way he was out of dental floss.
    â€œYou used my toothbrush?”
    â€œI had something stuck. Hey. Me’n Leo’re going to the casino tonight.”
    â€œLeo doesn’t gamble.”
    â€œI’m gonna show him the ropes.”
    When Rupp left for work, Horst took a deep breath, then pushed open the bathroom door. The window was steamed and the tub had a brown ring and was full of hair — Boyle Rupp hair. Horst felt ill. Two wet towels lay on the floor and the toilet hadn’t been flushed. Horst stared at his toothbrush. Picking it up with a piece of toilet paper he threw it away. He spent the morning scrubbing and disinfecting.
    The next morning when Rupp knocked with two coffees, Horst opened the door but kept the chain on. He stated the New Order.
    â€œBut we had a deal!”
    â€œThe deal didn’t include you shitting up my bathroom or using my toothbrush.”
    â€œSo what’m I gonna do?”
    â€œThere’s a hose around the side of the house. Wash with that. As for your other needs …” Horst pointed out the garden of the Chinese lady across the alley. “She’ll appreciate the fertilizer.”
    Every morning for the next week Horst watched Rupp head around to Leo’s suite with two coffees. It was late April and the weather was warming up. In fact, it hadn’t rained in five days, which had to be some kind of record for Vancouver. Horst knew Rupp had no intention of finding a proper place. The bugger liked it here. It gave him three hundred more a month to blow at the track and the casino. Horst decided he was demanding rent, too. It was his car. It was only fair. A hundred to Leo and a hundred to Horst …. Yet he wondered. If he took money from Rupp, then Rupp had rights. He’d be a tenant. Hell. He almost was already. No. The only way to get rid of him was to pay up the car insurance and get the Pacer back on the road. And that meant getting a job. What a choice — a job or Rupp. Horst usually worked as a gardener. And it was spring.
    Saturday was not only sunny, but hot. Everyone was outside, waving hello to neighbours they usually hated. Rupp had the windows down and the seat cranked back, reading the Racing Form. Horst wanted to go out on the back porch and drink his coffee — but he didn’t want to see Rupp. He especially didn’t want to see Rupp smug and relaxed like he had the world where he wanted it. After an hour of pacing and picking dead leaves off his plants, Horst stamped down the steps to the car. Rupp saw him coming.
    â€œEver think of getting a sun-roof?”.
    â€œEver think of getting a proper place to live?”
    Rupp picked up the classifieds on the seat beside him. “City’s tighter than a frog’s ass. You can get sun-roofs for a couple hundred.”
    â€œIf I had a couple hundred I’d renew my car insurance instead of riding the bus.”
    â€œCouple hundred? You live under a rug? Insurance’ll cost you a grand.” Rupp paged through the paper. “Here. Found you a job.”
    Horst was both offended and intrigued. “Who’re you, my mother?”
    Rupp slapped the paper and showed Horst a job he’d circled. “Telemarketing. Work from your home. No traffic, no boss, no hassles.”
    â€œNo money either.”
    â€œYou gotta be a self-starter. I’m telling you Horst, I’m out there all day, it’s hell. Driving’s the shits. Gives you ulcers. If I could work from home I’d be happier’n a clam. Here’s the number.” Rupp passed Horst a losing ticket from