Trading with the Boys

I paused for a moment. “More hot than cute. Think Vin Diesel hot.”

“Ohhh,” Ginny cooed. “That is hot.”

“So yeah, he might be doing the basement over so I can get it rented. In fact if everything goes well, he’ll be the one renting it.”

Ginny looked back at me skeptically. “Wait. I thought you didn’t have any money?”

“I don’t.”

“So how’s this going to—”

“He’s remodeling the basement by putting up his own money,” I said flatly. “And then for the next six or eight months, he’ll live down there rent free.”

“So… you’re stuck with him.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“This cute, hot guy who looks like Vin Diesel.”

“Back tattoos and everything.”

My friend smiled and sighed, perhaps envisioning the movie star. We’d watched most of the Riddick movies together. We knew the score.

“So this is good news, huh?” she reiterated. “You’ll get rental income! And you’ll finally get to sell all that stupid crap Eric left downstairs.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’ll be good to—” I abruptly stopped. “Wait. Sell?”

“Sure,” Ginny urged. “It’s not all crap, right? Your ex had about a million hobbies, from what I remember. I’ve been down there with you. There’s a kayak down there, some fishing gear…”

“So?”

“Paintball guns,” Ginny went on. “You know how expensive those are? Plus all that camping gear, the bicycles, the golf clubs, the video game stuff…”

“Those things are all Eric’s,” I interrupted. “I can’t just sell them.”

“Well then what the hell were you going to do with them?”

I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Probably put them in a storage unit?”

My only friend from the neighborhood laughed. “Do you know how much it costs to rent a storage unit each month? And how long are you going to keep it going? He’s been gone almost three years now.”

Shit. I actually hadn’t thought of any of that. I understood I’d need to clear out the basement, I just never thought for a second—

“The asshole left you here, remember?” Ginny said, an angry edge to her voice. “High and dry. He sent you divorce papers from Greece.”

“Italy.”

“Whatever!” My friend threw up her arms. “Has he even asked about his stuff? Sent for anything?”

“No,” I said. “And no.”

“Well then it’s high time for a pretty kickass garage sale,” Ginny smirked. “Don’t you think?”

I thought about all the stuff Eric abandoned, including me. It would be almost cathartic to let it go. I could use Facebook marketplace, or that Ebay consignment store that just opened up. Anything left, I could sell right out of the driveway.

“That’s actually pretty good,” I

admitted. “Not only do I get rid of the stuff in the basement, but I actually turn a profit.”