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MALCOLM AND THE HANDYMAN.
"It's a complete mess Malcolm. The tiles are old and the shower is mouldy round the seals. It's impossible to clean, it needs doing badly."
Sam regarded her belovéd over the rim of her coffee cup.
Seated at the kitchen counter. Early weekend morning.
Relaxed.
In his domain.
Pyjama shorts, bare chest. Scruffy chin. Bed head.
"What do you want to have done?"
He bit into a croissant, scattering crumbs down his front, which he then brushed off onto the floor.
Sam frowned at him, but he stared back at her defiantly, before taking another equally messy bite.
"The whole damn thing......top to bottom. I was thinking minimalist, you know, white sanitary ware, clean lines, chrome taps, the least grout possible. Easy to keep clean and maintain. I got some brochures and samples and stuff ages ago but you wouldn't look at them......"
Malcolm huffed.
Taking another sip she carried on.
"......it's your house, don't you care what it looks like?"
"It's not my house....it's our house, yours and mine. And of course I care, but I hate all the upheaval."
"Well, Laura has given me the number of this brilliant guy.....she used him, he does everything, plumbing, tiling, the lot.......he's Polish. He can build us a bespoke cupboard, paint the ceiling, do the lighting , make it all look really nice. Laura said he did a great job at Jamie's place."
Malcolm gave a resigned puff, sending out another spray of pastry bits.
"Oh go on then....show us your fucking samples.....while I'm still in the mood!"
Sam gave a whoop of excitement and jumped down from the counter, grabbing a pile of glossy mags, squares of tile and paint colour strips from the shelf behind her.
oOo
"Malcolm! This is Stephan. He's come to see what needs doing. Tell us how much it'll be and when we want it done, that sort of thing......"
Sam was flushed and happy, her eyes shining.
Malcolm regarded the specimen before him.
Fucking hated him already.
He was very handsome in a square jawed, matinée idol kind of way.
Young, about Sam's age. Tall. Dark. Spoke lovely English.
He shook the hand that was proffered to him perfunctorily.
"Hello, Mr Tucker." The handyman beamed, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. "I discuss with Meezus Tucker over the phone.....so you want to start from scratch, yes? Rip out the old.....everything new?"
Without waiting for an answer, he took one of Sam's hands in his own and clasped it firmly, then brought it to his lips and kissed it.
"Is beautiful laydy......your wife......very good taste in decor....." He smiled cheerily.
"Actually, I'm not Mrs Tucker........." Sam began, her face blushed crimson, and she gave a little merry tinkling laugh.
"Yet!" Malcolm snapped angrily.
Fuck this! Flirting is it? In his own home? Right in front of him? Who the hell does this guy think he is?
Stephan dropped the hand and looked confused. Malcolm elaborated.
"She's not Mrs Tucker......yet!" He clarified. "But she will be.....one day......"
"Ah! I see.......that's wonderful......the wedding bells.....when do they chime?" He looked from one to the other of the pair, with evident amusement.
"Malcolm hasn't even asked me yet!" Sam interrupted, somewhat perplexed by Malcolm's apparent annoyance. "We've been happy just as we are......"
"Is a wonderful thing.....love......I see a lot of it in my line of work......" His face was so open and interminably cheery, that Malcolm wanted to punch it.
"Yeah.....I'll bet you do......"
Before anything else could be said, Malcolm brushed passed Sam, walking briskly into the living room, muttering something about 'fucking male models'.
Sam followed, giving a quick, "excuse us!" as Stephan, bemused, looked on.
"Malcolm? What the fuck's wrong with you?
"Not a thing! I'm absolutely fine!"
"Why have you gone all huffy?"
"I'm sure you are perfectly capable of telling Napoleon Solo out there what needs doing without me. He seems to be much happier talking to a 'laydy'........I think I'll see if Jamie fancies a pint."
Hands on hips, Sam regarded him with her brows knitted in anger.
"Fine! You go off in a hissy fit, and be in your stupid little wolf pack! I'm going to Pilates later, I won't be in when you get back!"
oOo
Dust.
Mountains of dust.
A lot of banging, hammering and sawing.
Radio playing.
Constantly.
Malcolm was sick of fucking Kanye......and Macklemore.
Stephan, apparently liked to sing along......good looking he may be......crooner he most definitely was not!
"Can we go back, this is the moment,
Tonight is the night, we'll fight till it's over......
So we put our hands up like the ceiling can't hold us......
Like the ceiling can't hold ussssss......!"
Voice like a fucking chainsaw.
But he got on with it. Put in a full day.
The work was coming along nicely.
It was a hot day in May.
Malcolm returned from a meeting. One he'd been glad to have, to get him out of the house.
It was for his new consultancy business.
Which had been partly Sam's idea, partly his own and partly the astute business brain of Laura, Jamie's girlfriend, whose advice and input had been invaluable.
He was feeling very chuffed with himself, pleased with how it went.
Pleased that is, until he entered his own kitchen.
Sam was nowhere to be seen.
The patio door was wide open. Stephan had his work bench set up in the courtyard garden.
All his tools carefully laid out.
There he was, busily sanding a piece of wood. Ear protectors on. Blissfully unaware of his employer's presence.
Malcolm looked on. The hapless voyeur.
Fucking hell!
Checked lumberjack shirt off and tied loosely around his waist by the sleeves. Beautifully toned and tanned, muscular body. Not an ounce of fat on him.
Rippling biceps.
Six pack abs.
Narrow at the waist in tight jeans. Showing his firm thighs, big bulge, his hair swept back, like a fucking L'Oreal advert.
Turning just then, he smiled broadly at Malcolm, pulling the ear piece away from his head.
"Ah! Mister Tucker.....how did meeting go? Meezus....er....Sam....tells me all about it......"
"Did she now........?" He replied crossly.
Malcolm watched, almost fascinated, as a trickle of sweat ran down the naked torso. Stephan's gaze followed his own and he tensed his pectorals, winking confidently, almost, Malcolm thought, by way of a challenge.
The two men eyed each other warily.
At that moment Sam reappeared. Hot and breathless.
Tight Lycra leggings, crop top, hair in a ponytail. Fresh from a run.
Unaware of the tense atmosphere, she crossed the kitchen to the fridge, still puffing.
"I'm getting myself a cold glass of homemade lemonade.....anyone want one? Stephan? Malcolm?"
She turned towards the two males as they circled each other predatorily.
Stephan's eyes fastened momentarily on Sam's pert derrière, but then flicked back to Malcolm's fierce stare, creating an uncomfortable frisson between them.
"Anything wrong?" She enquired.
"Is very hot day......" The plumber observed pointlessly.
Malcolm turned away without a word and left the room. Face like thunder.
Sam found him pacing. She shut the living room door behind her, crossing to him, arresting his movement.
"Malcolm....what the hell's got into you? Did the meeting not go well? What's happened? I've never seen you like this......"
"Does fucking Tarzan have to walk around the house like that.....half dressed? Or rather, half UNdressed? And you.....in your spray on stuff.....I don't fucking like it Sam.....he fancies the arse off you....you know that? His eyes undress you every fucking time!" He faced her with the most miserable expression.
"What? What on Earth are you talking about? .........Malcolm....I haven't been here.....I've been out.....I can assure you he was fully clothed when I left!"
"And what about you.....fawning all over him?!" He started to effect a sing song mimicking voice.
"Would you like a cup of tea Stephan? Can I get you a sandwich Stephan? White bread or brown? White or brown? Fucking fuck me! He'll should accept what he's bloody given....or better still, bring his own fucking lunch!"
"Good grief! I was just being polite! What is this? The green eyed monster? Is that what this is all about......?"
Malcolm suddenly diminished, turning quiet and subdued.
"I don't like him.....and I don't trust him.......being here with you alone......"
"Malcolm! It's very sweet......" She came close to him, threading her arms around his middle and pulling him close.
"What is?" He snapped.
"You......being all jealous! But seriously my darling, you are quite safe, you have nothing whatever to fear....."
Malcolm interrupted her before she could finish, with another explosion.
"'Course I fucking have!......Look at him......he's fucking young for a start, he's fucking gorgeous, and so are you......he's all buff and biceps......and I'm not.....never could be......I'm not him.......nothing like.....I'm old.....flabby......grey......." He tailed off, his expression desolate.
Sam laughed gently.
"Malcolm......YOU are gorgeous.......I love every inch of you.......I've never known you to be so possessive......or this insecure......" She cupped his face in her hands. "You don't need to be......I love you Malcolm......and only you......understand?"
There came a slight cough from the now open doorway.
"Humm mmm!"
They both turned together, to see a now slightly embarrassed Stephan, still bare chested, hovering there.
"Sorry! Mr Tucker, and Meezus.....er, Sam.....but I interrupt your loving......sorry......"
"What the fuck do you want?" Malcolm was less than cordial. He gave the handyman what he hoped was a meaningful 'hands off, she's mine' glare. Sam gave him a withering look.
"It's okay Stephan.....what's the matter?"
"I er.....need to know where you want heated towel rail......it has to be right for cutting skirting board....."
Kissing the tip of Malcolm's nose, she relinquished her grip on his shirt and smiled.
"Give me a moment. I'll come up and show you!"
oOo
Malcolm returned from shopping. Bags dumped down in the hall.
All was quiet.
Then the distinct sound of voices.......and giggling.
Coming from upstairs.
He listened, hand clutching the banister rail.
Scuffling noises. Thuds.
He hardly dare go up.
Fuck it all! This was his home......had he caught them red handed?
Malcolm swallowed hard.
"Sam? You there?" He called.
He knew fucking well she was there. More to the point, what the fuck was she doing?
"Oh! Malcolm! You're home early......." Her voice muffled and indistinct.
More frantic scrabbling.
"I'm coming up!" He warned. His feet stomping purposefully on each stair, rage consuming him.
The sounds were emanating from the bathroom, not the bedroom......Christ! Filthy bastard! Malcolm's heart was hammering in his chest.
Pushing open the door forcefully, he burst in.
The sight that met his eyes was not quite what he'd expected to see.....although he wasn't really sure exactly what he did expect to see......
.....Sam, on her hands and knees on the floor. Shining a torch beneath the new bath.
Laura, beside her, with some barbecue tongs, laying flat on her stomach.
Stephan, standing, looking on, behind them both, arms folded patiently across his chest.
"Hello, Mr Tucker!" Stephan began, giving his usual beaming smile, then seeing Malcolm's puzzled expression, he began to explain.
"My wrench.....it go down the back......my arms......" He flexed one plump bicep dramatically, as if to illustrate. ".......the laydies.....they have little arms.....maybe can reach......"
"GOT IT!" Laura emerged from under the tub, flushed but triumphant.
"Oh, hi Malcolm!" She beamed.
"YES!! Well done the laydy! Now I can get on with work!" A grateful Stephan grinned happily.
Sam got to her feet, reached up, kissed Malcolm on the cheek.
"Hello sweetie.......I'll go and make us all some tea shall I?" She said.
Laura did exactly the same as her friend. Kissing Malcolm too.
"Hi Laura!" He greeted, with a grumpy air.
"Hi there! What's the matter with you Malc? You look like you've lost a fiver!" She remarked, before following her friend downstairs.
The four sat round the kitchen table with tea and biscuits in front of them.
Stephan chatting animatedly about past jobs he'd undertaken, being at his most entertaining, but showing absolutely no signs of leaving.
"Isn't it about time you knocked off?" Malcolm enquired eventually.
"Ah......normally! Today I am picked up by my partner Alex......my van it go for MOT......so I get lift. Be here in a minute!"
"Partner? I didn't know you had a partner......you married then?" He asked, sceptically.
"Yes.....since three years......"
"You don't wear a ring....." Malcolm glanced pointedly down at the third finger on his left hand.
Sam gave Malcolm a warning glance but he ignored her.
".......is that so you appear to be single.....so you can flirt with all the pretty 'laydies'.......?" He did the mimicking voice again......." and the desperate fucking housewives you work for?"
Stephan looked confused.
"Sorry, but what means flirt?"
"Take no notice of Malcolm.....he's trying to be funny......and he isn't! He's being mean! But he doesn't mean anything by it! Do you Malcolm?" Sam interjected, giving him a hard stare.
"Ah....my ring.....yes! It's here!" Reaching into his T shirt he pulled out a fine chain, with a gold band threaded onto it. "I don't like to wear on hand when I working.....in case it get catch and rip finger off...."
The doorbell rang at that moment.
"Saved by the fucking bell!" Malcolm growled.
"Ah! That'll be my lift!" Stephan drained his tea cup and stood up, giving Sam's arm a squeeze. "Thank you for lovely tea and hob nobs, beautiful Meezus......er Sam......"
Laura glanced at Sam and gave a wink.
"Why don't you get the door Malc?" She smiled.
Malcolm almost snarled at her in response.
Fucking cunt.....still he couldn't keep his poxy hands to himself!
Padding down the hallway, Malcolm flung the front door open wide.
To his surprise a smart young guy was standing there. Roughly the same age as Stephan, equally nice looking, a bronzed beefcake.
Seeing him evidently perplexed. The man spoke.
"I have the right house have I not? Is it Mr Tucker?"
Malcolm nodded dumbly.
"Hi! I'm Alex. I'm here to collect Stephan?"
From the kitchen behind him came a cheery call.
"Be there in a moment pet! Just collecting my tools together."
Fin.