Page 2 of Nailed

Instead of looking offended, she just nodded again. “That’s alright. You have my number if you ever need anything.”

With a final wave goodbye and friendly smile, Clara climbed into her Lexus and reversed off the concrete apron—the soon-to-be driveway—and disappeared into the evening traffic.

I stood outside of my new home, turning around to admire it from the street. The taller and more ornate building stood out as a giant within the dense residential block of two-story brick rowhouses and storefronts that it was tucked into. With massive arched engine doors and high masonry parapets that loomed high above the standard and narrow windows of the surrounding houses, part of me hoped that this wouldn’t be some kind of omen foreshadowing what my time in the city might be like.

Then again, I had knowingly bought a firehouse. It’d hardly looked inconspicuous among the other listings, but I was determined to try and bring my vision to life. I could see the potential of what this place could be beneath the dust and industrial wear. There was potential for beauty.

Movement in my periphery snagged my attention. It was a small group of morning joggers, approaching in a blur of rhythmic thudding sneakers and neon tech-wear. I awkwardly raised my hand in a half-wave, but if any of them saw me, they chose not to return the greeting.

That is, until I was about to turn around and head back inside. One of the joggers, a man clad in yellow spandex, yelled right as they passed my new home.

“Don’t even bother unpacking.”

2

Lauren

I stretched out my limbs with a yawn and shimmied further beneath my heavy blanket for the last few precious moments of laziness before the day began.

The sun was just starting to peak on the horizon and I had major plans to get out and explore the neighborhood. I was camped up in the dorms of the second floor, with nothing but a cheap mattress layered with as many blankets as I could afford stacked on top.

The open-plan area was still threadbare, very obviously built for utility and not comfort. I was already thinking about all the changes I was going to implement to turn this space into a cozy retreat. But the giant Roman Arch window was the one thing in the entire room that I was intent on keeping just as it was. The subdivided gridded panes added an element of whimsy that I knew I was going to capture on camera when the light hit just right.

I recalled the shots I captured yesterday, how the hard industrial feel of the space met the soft, dust-speckled light rays and how magical the result had been.

Thinking about yesterday dragged my thoughts to both Clara’s offer of helping me find my feet, and the weird comment from the jogger. My stomach turned sour. On the one hand, I didn’t like accepting help from people. It felt like accepting charity work, and I preferred to just get things done myself. But on the other hand, there’d been something about the man’s voice as he spat those words at me that felt like a warning. Or a threat.

I was probably being ridiculous. Most likely, this was just a very tight-knit community that didn’t take too kindly to newcomers. I was used to being on my own, so that wasn’t exactly a world-ending adjustment. But I still couldn’t shake my uneasiness at the hostility that the group had projected my way. Was I feeling uneasy enough to call Clara and admit that, though? Absolutely not.

Exposure therapy. That was the key. If I got out there, proved to myself that there was nothing to be scared of and managed to acclimatize to the city, I would’ve solved two problems before dinner.

Determined, I hopped out of bed and moved downstairs to get a pot of coffee brewing. The temporary kitchenette nestled in the far corner of the bay seemed functional enough. At least until I attempted to turn the brass tap.

Instead of the expected sound of running water, the high-ceilinged silence of the bay was shattered by a loud, metallic groaning that bounced off the concrete and brick like a ping pong ball. I grimaced as a brownish surge of “water” gushed out of the faucet before tapering off into a pathetic, rust-tinted trickle.

Okay. It seemed like I would be making an early morning cafe trip instead of enjoying a homemade coffee and that was absolutely fine. Even better, I reasoned, seeing as it would give me a specific location to visit on my expedition. Brilliant.

If I couldn’t have coffee immediately, I could at least still shower. I climbed back up the stairs to the original bathroom, impressed by the cast-iron fixtures and how wonderfully rust-free they appeared. This was exactly what I needed, a nice hot morning shower to start the…

My hand froze on the valve mid-turn.

I didn’t just hear the next series of noises. I could feel it.

A succession of cannon-shot bangs reverberated through the brick walls of the firehouse. Trying to contain my composure, I quickly twisted the valve a few inches back to lower the water pressure but it was too late. The vibrations were so intense that I could see dust shaking loose from the exposed rafters.

Maybe this was just the initial shock to a plumbing system that hadn’t been used in who knows how long. I could just wait a few seconds, see if things stabilized and—

A loud crack rent the air, coming from the bay area below. I had a few seconds to repent for my past sins and dare to ask for a smidge of grace before I heard a steel pipe split.

I rushed downstairs, my eyes bulging at the sight of one of the high-mounted wall pipes gushing a violent spray of water across the room. Panic seized me for a second as the earlier racket melded into a deafening hiss.

Think, Lauren, think.

Water began pooling in a shallow puddle and I knew that I didn’t have much time to figure this out before I’d be facing a cold, loud lesson in industrial-grade plumbing failure. My head whipped from side to side as I pressed my brain to come up with the most practical solution. From the sparse general knowledge I had about firehouses, I knew that the water main almost always entered from the street side, and typically near the entrance. A quick Google search confirmed that I’d be looking for a massive gate valve near the foundation wall.

As I went on the hunt, I tried to keep my thoughts positive. This was just a tiny little mishap, something I’d probably laugh at one day in the future. The very, very, very distant future. But it would be fine.

I found the valve exactly where it was supposed to be, a beautiful giant red wheel.