31
Marcus
It's midweek and I'm at the shop, finishing up a boat for a client I have coming in this weekend. My plan was to take Cat and Lily out on my own boat for the day on Saturday, but business comes first. This is a whale of a guy from Portland that I need to cater to if I want him to refer me out to all his rich friends.
“Marcus,” Carl, the mailman, peeks inside the door.
“What's up, man? Come on in.” I wave him in, dropping the stain and brush on the side table and wipe my hands on my pants.
“I have a certified letter for you. I knew you weren't home, so I was over at Double D's for lunch and thought I'd try you here.” He holds out a piece of green cardboard paper. “I need your signature.”
Using his pen, I sign and we exchange the green cardboard for the envelope. There’s an a
