d**k by Law

Chapter 4

4Hours later, Simon gazed at the mint-condition front-loader washing machine newly installed in the laundry room, a converted sun porch at the back of his house. The white skin of the washer gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight streaming into the room, and Simon's pulse quickened. He felt a rush of pride.

Then, he stared down at the beat-to-hell pedestal that had come with it.

Josie nudged the pedestal with her toe, as if it were a pile of road kill. "Did they let a gorilla loose on that thing or what?"

Zeke, one of the two grungy delivery guys who'd hauled in the washer and pedestal, scratched the back of his tattoo-slathered neck. If his neck and arms (left bare by his sleeveless black Harley Davidson t-shirt) were any indication, a high percentage of his body was covered in tattoo ink. "I wouldn't even put that in my house, man."

Zeke and his partner, Greg, had just carted the pedestal off the truck, but it looked as if they'd tied it to the rear fender and dragged it all the way from the warehouse.

The pedestal was a two-foot-high box, a metal platform on which the front-loader was meant to sit. It matched the washer in color and shape, but its condition was as battered as the washer's was pristine.

Three of the pedestal's four sides were severely dented. The mounting brackets were gone from two corners, and the remaining two brackets were twisted and cracked. The top surface of the pedestal was smeared with black grease, and the whole thing was coated with some kind of brownish film.

Simon shook his head in amazement. "But I ordered a new pedestal."

Zeke checked his clipboard and snorted. "You sure did, dude. That's exactly what it says here."

"You call this new?" Simon laughed, though he wasn't amused. He looked at Zeke, and Zeke just shrugged.

"New in some mirror universe, maybe." Chip scrubbed his fingers through his spiky green hair. "Some alternate reality where everything sucks."

"New in that we've never actually seen it before," said Josie. "It's new to us."

"New in the sense that when it comes to palming off junk on paying customers, this is a new low." Ankha folded her slim arms over her chest and glared at Zeke.

"Well, I think it's just beautiful." Simon smiled and hunkered down beside the pedestal. "It sets off the new washing machine perfectly." He lovingly ran his hands over the dents and black smears. "Really ties together the whole laundry room."

"For real?" said Zeke's partner, Greg, an emaciated specimen with a dull gold nose ring and ratty ponytail. Simon stared at Greg in disbelief. He couldn't tell if he and Zeke were in their forties or just in their twenties with wear and tear beyond their years.

Simon got to his feet. "Nope. Please take it away now."

"Are you sure?" Josie tipped her head to one side and tapped her lower lip with a fingertip. "I kind of feel sorry for it."

"I'm sure," said Simon. "When can you bring me a new one?"

"Hold on a minute." Zeke grabbed the cell phone off his belt clip and flipped it open. He dialed a number and waited. "Hello, Leila?"

As Zeke stepped outside with his phone, and Greg followed, Simon leaned against his new washer. "What I want to know is, where'd they get that thing? A junkyard?"

"I can't believe they had the nerve to send it out here," said Ankha. "Did they actually think you'd take it?"

"You might be surprised," said Chip. "People trust Strayer-Roland."

"'We're family.'" Josie quoted the Strayer-Roland slogan.

"But not in a good way," said Chip.

"Okay, here's the deal." Zeke flipped his phone shut as he ambled back in. "We'll take this pedestal away, but you'll have to go to the store to order a new one."

"Wait, what?" Simon frowned. "It wasn't my mistake."

"Right," said Zeke. "Some kind of mix-up at the warehouse...but you'll still have to go to the store. Bring your receipt, and they'll cancel your order, issue a r****d, and place a new order for a new pedestal."

"That's just crazy talk," said Chip.

Zeke shrugged. "It's how they do things now."

Simon shook his head. His sense of humor was fading. "This is ridiculous. Can't you call a manager or something?"

"Wouldn't do any good," said Zeke. "5G5 is just the delivery company. We didn't sell you the pedestal, and we can't exchange it for a new one."

"But you're acting as representatives of Strayer-Roland in the field," said Simon.

"I'm not even an employee of 5G5," said Zeke. "I'm an independent contractor working freelance for a subcontractor. I barely represent myself, dude."

Simon sighed. "So if I go to the store right now, I could still resolve this today?"

"It's worth a shot." Zeke handed over his clipboard and pen. "Now just initial by the red X's, and we can get that hunk of s**t out of your house."

Simon signed where he was told. "This is all gonna work out, right? I don't need to worry?"

"All I'm saying, dude," said Zeke, "is there's no need to make a federal case out of it."