"Thanks, naughty American boy. Don't mean to cut this short, but I've just nipped out of work to call and have to get back in. I'll email my flight itinerary later on."
"Okay."
"Bye, Franco."
"Bye, Gem."
Gemma's coming here in four days.
To my house.
In four days.
I bought this house over a year ago when we got our advance on the first album.
And there's still stuff in boxes in the living room. There's nothing on the walls. No blinds on the windows, except my bedroom. The bathroom is still painted a repulsive color that reminds me of gravy. And not like biscuits and gravy cream, but turkey dinner brown. I don't like looking at turkey gravy when I'm sitting on the throne, and I don't want Gemma to either.
I know her visit is about the baby and I shouldn't be worried about this stuff, but...
I have shit to do.
A lot of shit to do.
Unpack.
Clean.
Paint.
Window coverings.
Hang photos.
Goddamn, I sound like my mom.
I need help.
So I make a reactionary call that I'll probably regret later, because if there's one other person on this planet who knows even less about this kind of thing it's...
"What are you up to today, twat gobbler?" Please say not much. Please say not much. Please say not much.
"Not much."
Yes!
"I just got home from PetSmart. Had to buy Spare Ribs a scratching post. The little diva suddenly thinks her Adamantium claws need to be sharpened several times a day on the side of my nightstand. It feels like a vendetta, dude. She needs something else to take out her vengeance on." Gus doesn't even sound pissed. He sounds like he's on the cat's side. God, he cracks me up.
"I need some help."
"With what?" I know that's a yes. He's the type of friend who would never turn me down. Even if I called him at two in the morning to paint my bathroom, he'd do it.
"Home decorating."
"Come again?" He sounds confused.
I pause. "Gemma's coming to visit and stay with me in a few days. I want my place to look nice. I need to paint the bathroom and get blinds and stuff to hang on the walls." Before he can give me shit, I stop him. "I promise beer and cheese pizza."
"Gemma's coming to see you? Righteous." And that's where he leaves it because he's not one to pry. He knows if I need to talk about it I will.
"Are you in?" It's exasperated, I'm desperate.
"If you let me pick out the paint color for the bathroom, I'm in." It's an unthreatening ultimatum.
This could go so horribly wrong. "Promise you won't turn my bathroom into a disaster?"
"Dude, it's already shit brown. Anything is a step up."
"True. Okay, deal. I'll pick you up in ten."
Ten minutes later Gus is climbing in the passenger seat of my truck dressed in an old t-shirt with cut off sleeves that reads I'm just here for the tacos, and frayed out shorts, and we're headed to Home Depot.
The paint department is daunting. Too many colors.
Gus is like a kid in a candy store with the rainbow of paint sample cards in front of him. His intensity is frightening. "Remind me again what color your tile is?"
"White. Everything's white except the walls." He's taking this seriously. I guess I need to too.
He rubs the scruff on his chin, thinking. "The possibilities are endless."
"Right?" I agree, suddenly into this process.
"You're lucky the previous owner went neutral with the palette." His eyes are still roving the color wall.
Who the fuck are we and what happened to Gus and Franco? But I roll with it because this needs to happen and we're both into it. "True."
"What's your favorite color, dick cheese?"
"Red."
"You can't go red. The space is too fucking small. Red would overpower it. You need something more subdued. Go bold with the artwork instead."
I'm staring at him like I have no idea who he is. "How do you know all this shit?"
He glances at me over his shoulder. "I watched a lot of TV last fall. There was a 'Property Brothers' marathon on HGTV." I shrug, unfamiliar with the show and he returns his focus to the paint samples and explains, "People buy fixer-uppers, and then two cool ass brothers turn catastrophe into their dream home."
"Never seen it."
"That's a travesty, homeowner. Jonathan and Drew are wizards. You need cable," he adds to drive the point home. He plucks a card from the wall with four shades of blue. "What about light blue?"
"Reminds me of the ocean. I like it."
"It's soothing, right?" Soothing? This is outta hand.
"It's better than gravy," I concede.
"Done. Dolphin blue's the winner."
Gus gets in line with his paint chip like he knows what he's doing. He doesn't, he's never bought paint or painted a room in his life, but I give him credit for taking charge. While the paint is being mixed, Jacob, the friendly Home Depot paint department dude gathers rollers, brushes, tape, and a drop cloth for me. He recognized Gus and is all too happy to help. We signed his orange apron. He was stoked.
While we're standing in line to pay, Gus and I decide that we should stop at Bed Bath and Beyond next door and buy things to complete the bathroom makeover.
Two hours later, we each walk out of Bed Bath and Beyond pushing a cart filled with stuff I should've bought a year ago: blinds for the living room and kitchen; curtains for the bedrooms; a comforter, new sheets, and pillows for my bed; a new mirror, towels, and a bath mat for the bathroom; a set of matching dishes, glasses, and cutlery; a few picture frames; and candles. Because Gus says chicks dig candles. I think he just liked smelling them all.
"Look at you, all grown up and shit," Gus teases as we load the bags in the backseat of my truck.
I nod confidently, owning it. "And shit."
He laughs, but I know he's proud of me because he took this shopping excursion so seriously.
Back home, we work like a well-oiled machine for the afternoon. Stereo blaring The Hunna and Modelo flowing. We knock out painting the bathroom first and move on to hanging blinds and curtains next, which proves more difficult than you'd think. So we stop and wash the new dishes instead while we wait for the pizza to be delivered.