The Flip Read Free Page A

the sale of this house so that she could leave here and devote herself to their flipping business. But, she thought dreamily, she did love the bones of that house.

Chapter 2
    Brad cleared his throat, his eyes tearing from the smell of a dead rodent. Using his shovel, he scooped it up, but its bodily fluids had glued it to the floor. He gagged, ran up the stairs to escape out the front door, and hunkered down on the steps to deeply breathe in the crisp October air. The house was at the end of a long gravel drive at the top of a hill, overlooking the waters of Long Island Sound. The address read Bedlam Street, but it was actually almost a mile from the road, affording the occupants privacy. It was a big house, with clumsy additions added on through the ages and looking to him like a doughy-faced dowager. Sitting on the first step of the porch, hewatched the gray waters of the sound, the autumn shades of the trees surrounding the bay like a bowl. Seagulls screeched, diving to pluck small mollusks from the shallow water and then dropping them on the beach to break apart. They protected their bounty, fighting off interlopers to feast on their seafood snack. His stomach rumbled, but he couldn’t eat. The musty smell of the basement killed any thought of lunch. His eyes were gritty with filth. This was by far the dirtiest flip they had attempted, and he longed to tell Julie to list it on eBay for a dollar more than they had paid for it, but he knew Julie had a bug about this house. She loved it, and he couldn’t understand why. It was old, dilapidated, and a monster of a repair. He’d almost lost his temper this morning when she rapped out fifty thingsthat needed to be done. He didn’t need her to remind him; he knew what had to be done. He didn’t mind walking away from this project. He trotted to his truck, removed his thermos filled with coffee, took a healthy swig, and spit it into the bushes. It cleared the dust from his palate, and he swallowed a satisfying mouthful. His phone broke the peaceful silence. Glancing at the face, he saw that it was Julie, and he swiped it with a dirty finger to answer.
    “What’s up?” he asked, his throat gravelly.
    “You didn’t call me all day,” Julie said, a tone of plaintiveness in her voice.
    “I didn’t know I was expected to report in.”
    Julie sighed. “Brad, what’s wrong? Weusually speak a few times a day. Look, day after tomorrow I’ll be there to help.”
    “I don’t even know if I want you to help, Jules. This place is disgusting. I just had to peel a decomposing rat off the floor. I don’t want you in the place.”
    “Honey, we are in this together. Look, it was a great price. If it works out well, we’ll make enough to buy two houses with the profit. Maybe I can quit my job,” she finished in a hopeful whisper.
    Brad was silent. It was a long-held dream. He didn’t like her boss, the sleazy son of a bitch. He never made eye contact with Brad. But the fact was, they got their medical and 401k there,plus her salary would keep them going until they could turn the flipping into a profitable business. Profitable meant that he could stop taking landscaping jobs in the spring and they would make enough to live off the flips. They had even discussed an income property, but they didn’t have enough to tie up their capital in a rental house. Her boss had been instrumental in helping them with their loans. If not for him and the generous terms he negotiated, none of this would have been possible. So far, they had only made enough to pay their bills and move on to the next house. They hadn’t accrued anything. Other than the small house they lived in, they had no real equity. They had a ways to go—especially when his truck died and they had to buy a slightly used pickup. The down payment had put a dent intheir savings.
    “This is worse than the Tate house.” Two houses ago, they’d picked up an estate sale. The house hadn’t been touched for many years, and