Trailer Park Victory Chapter 2: Frustration

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(12-24)

 

 

The afternoon at Evergreen Estates had turned decidedly bitter, when Judi Yonrak arrived in her Cadillac cruiser. Snow piles lined the streets from previous days, with new precipitation covering the tarmac. Yet as she approached Lot 13, Townshend Lincoln was in his usual spot, on a bench nestled at the back his inset porch. He was dressed in winter attire and leather gloves, with only his shaggy hair and beard showing from underneath the layers. A square bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat in his lap. He was red-faced, and loud when she opened the door of her SUV.

 

The veteran realtor was bundled in a long, purple overcoat. Her short-cropped mane was streaked with blonde highlights that brightened in the wash of pale sunlight.

 

“I got all the details, Link! Some good and some bad. May I come inside?”

 

Her potential buyer slurred out a reply, after raising his whiskey in a toast of good cheer.

 

“What’s wrong with sitting right here, ma’am? Shit, we ain’t seen the real bluster of December yet. Wait till January or February cranks out the frost! C’mon, pull up the guest chair!”

 

He gestured toward a plastic, Walmart shower seat, intended for bathroom use. It had been sitting next to the trash barrel, and was half-covered with snow.

 

Judi shivered a bit before protesting.

 

“Are you serious? It’s awful out here! Let’s go in your living room and hash through an agreement I can take back to the seller of this manufactured bungalow on Sidley Road...”

 

Lincoln groaned and took a swig of the brown liquor.

 

“Shit, I’m not bothered by the temperature! Take a hit of this Tennessee antifreeze and you won’t be, either!”

 

His professional contact shivered for a second time. She was slightly disgusted by his carelessness with the bottle of high-proof hooch, yet amused in the same instant.

 

“Look, I was right about the financing. It has to go conventional. The interest rate I can get you is great considering how bad our markets have gotten. But you’ll need $13,000 down. You can do that, right?”

 

The hairy hermit spit juice and saliva like a garden hose being unwound.

 

“HOW MUCH? WHAT THE HELL, D’YA THINK I’M A GAWDAMM MISER OR SOMETHING? MY ASS IS BROKE! I DON’T HAVE TWO BUCKS SAVED IN MY WALLET! I LIVE ON A MONTHLY DOLE FROM SOCIAL SECURITY DISABILITY!”

 

The property queen adjusted her stylish, gold-rimmed glasses.

 

“I could get you a loan maybe, my company deals with Chardon Savings Bank...”

 

Lincoln belched hard enough that the storm door rattled on its rusted hinges.

 

“GET A LOAN TA GET A LOAN? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT NONSENSE?”

 

Judi felt melting snow soaking through her nylons, as she sat on the creaky shower chair.

 

“Link, I can only do so much to help you, okay? We’ve got to follow procedures. I shouldn’t even be involved with this, as I won’t make a penny on the transaction. But we’ve known each other for years...”

 

The drunken loner scratched his scraggly beard, and coughed phlegm.

 

“Alright then, what happens if I get ta do that and qualify fer a loan on the doublewide?”

 

His helper crossed her legs, as a whisper of Arctic wind blew across the wooden deck.

 

“You’ve got to handle the legwork yourself, since the seller is going without an agent. I’ll do what I can, but it’ll be unusual to say the least. If I get caught by my bosses, they might have a fit. Part of my commissions go to them, you know...”

 

The inebriated iconoclast could barely get his eyes to focus. But his thirst had not abated. He took another long pull of southern liquor from the bottle, then held his breath until the burn subsided.

 

“And after that, I can move in? It’s a done deal? I finally get a ticket outta this shithole?”

 

Judi gasped at the roughness of her friend’s demeanor. Yet it was nothing unexpected.

 

“The distance between this park and that piece of land isn’t considerable. I’d guess you could accomplish the move with lots of short trips. Maybe neighbors or friends would help?”

 

Lincoln chortled, with unrestrained glee.

 

“LINN SPECK DOWN THE STREET WOULD PROBABLY HIRE A DAMN MOVING COMPANY, JUST TA GET MY HIDE SHIPPED OUT! HE’S TRASHED ME WITH THE PARK, TOWNSHIP TRUSTEES, THE PREACHER AT OUR CHURCH ON THE SQUARE, AND EVEN MAYLENE JEFKA WHO LIVES ACROSS THE STREET! SHE’S LIKE A GRANDMA TA EVERYBODY HERE!”

 

The realtor felt her stomach beginning to ache. Silently, she wondered if making contact about the prefab house had been a mistake.

 

“I just need you to sign some paperwork. It’ll give me the right to represent you, and provide cover for my negotiation with the seller...”

 

Her rowdy associate gestured as if reaching for an ink pen.

 

“FUCK IT, LET’S GO! WORK YER MAGIC SPELL! I WANT OUT OF THIS FREAKING GRAVEYARD BEFORE SOMEBODY PLANTS MY DEAD ASS IN THE GROUND!”

 

Judi fumbled through her satchel, looking for a notepad and writing instrument.

 

“This will do until I can get a formal document printed. I just need your endorsement on paper, to show that we’ve struck a bargain and I can informally act as your agent...”

 

Lincoln scribbled his signature on the handwritten sheet while squinting. His fingers were already numb.

 

“I can’t see for fuck, without my reading glasses. But there ya go, who’s gonna poke around in yer shit anyway? The crowd in this park would throw a party if I left. Nobody has the balls ta come by fer a drink, except maybe a couple of blue-collar bikers who live back by the woods. They can relate ta my attitude. The rest of these losers are skittish about my daily habits. You’d think this was a gawdamm kindergarten class or something! They tiptoe around the conservative religous crazies and militia types. I say screw ‘em, screw ‘em all!”

 

When the property expert finally returned to her vehicle, she had become slightly blue from being outdoors for so long. But the prospect of making a sale, even one off the books, warmed her mood. On the way back to her gravel-road destination, she dialed a cellular number listed for the seller. Overhead, the cloudy sky had begun to clear. She had to flip down a sun visor to combat the flood of natural light. Something that lifted her spirits. But when the call went through, this impulsive boost dissipated quickly.

 

A familiar voice spoke over the wireless connection, with regret.

 

“Who is this? The lady from Geauga Realty, Incorporated? Hey, I left a message at your office, a few minutes ago. My home sold this afternoon! I knew it’d get snapped up immediately! Thanks anyway, for trying to help! Maybe your client can find something else!”