The Legend of Joel Riggins part 4: Bill Stevens
by Daniel Beadle - Monday, August 27, 2007
“REMIX!” The shout of Missy Elliot echoes down Chestnut Street, a small stretch of suburbia in Ashland, Massachusetts. A small painters crew, numbering at about a dozen workers, covers the three-story home of Mr. and Mrs. Mathers. They’re a sloppy bunch, all in their late teens or early twenties, earning some extra cash before the start of the new school year.
Bill Stevens, the oldest among them at twenty five, supervises the work. He makes the occasional phone call or two to potential customers, managers, and whatever coke dealers he happens to have on speed dial. Bill is burly man, the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to get into a fight with. He towers over everyone, and has a grizzled appearance that suggests that’s he’s no stranger to heavy drinking and street brawling. Even though Bill’s head and face are shaved, a thick stubble covers them both.
But perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Bill Stevens is his build: His large lower half is contrasted by his relatively small arms, giving him the overall appearance of a Tyrannosaurus Rex in human skin. “Yo, Rix, Bill Stevens here. You call me when you get that eight ball, kid. I can’t spend all weekend smokin’ that shit I got last Tuesday.”
Bill hangs up as he watches Donnie’s Camry pull into the driveway.
“About time you showed up here.” Joel and Donnie emerge from the car with red eyes. Bill nods at Donnie, “So Savia, this your first day working for me, huh?”
Before Donnie can respond, a painter falls off a ladder, landing flat on his back. Bill shouts over, “Hey, you’re fired, ass face!” He turns back to Donnie, “Good timing, guy. We just got an opening. But hey, as Jimbo over there just made clear to you, we don’t get into that workman’s comp bullshit around here. I’ll fire you before you before you hit the ground. Negligence is grounds for dismissal. You get me?”
Donnie nods as he takes off his jacket. “Yeah, okay Bill.”
“Riggins,” Bill shouts over to Joel.
“What’s up buddy?”
“You show this kid the ropes, alright? I can’t stick around here all day.”
“Alright Bill. No problem.”
Bill stumbles away, pausing to shout at a worker repainting the same spot several times. “Yo, Lyons! This isn’t art class! Get your shit together, we don’t got all day!”
Bill flips open his phone. “What’s up, kid? I’m headin’ over now.” He opens the door to his Chevy pickup, and gets in. Keep the beers cold, guy. See ya then. Nargle.” He hangs up and speeds off.
Donnie pulls a bottle of Vodka out of his car. “Alright, who wants to go vertical on this?”
Bill Stevens, the oldest among them at twenty five, supervises the work. He makes the occasional phone call or two to potential customers, managers, and whatever coke dealers he happens to have on speed dial. Bill is burly man, the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to get into a fight with. He towers over everyone, and has a grizzled appearance that suggests that’s he’s no stranger to heavy drinking and street brawling. Even though Bill’s head and face are shaved, a thick stubble covers them both.But perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Bill Stevens is his build: His large lower half is contrasted by his relatively small arms, giving him the overall appearance of a Tyrannosaurus Rex in human skin. “Yo, Rix, Bill Stevens here. You call me when you get that eight ball, kid. I can’t spend all weekend smokin’ that shit I got last Tuesday.”
Bill hangs up as he watches Donnie’s Camry pull into the driveway.
“About time you showed up here.” Joel and Donnie emerge from the car with red eyes. Bill nods at Donnie, “So Savia, this your first day working for me, huh?”
Before Donnie can respond, a painter falls off a ladder, landing flat on his back. Bill shouts over, “Hey, you’re fired, ass face!” He turns back to Donnie, “Good timing, guy. We just got an opening. But hey, as Jimbo over there just made clear to you, we don’t get into that workman’s comp bullshit around here. I’ll fire you before you before you hit the ground. Negligence is grounds for dismissal. You get me?”
Donnie nods as he takes off his jacket. “Yeah, okay Bill.”
“Riggins,” Bill shouts over to Joel.
“What’s up buddy?”
“You show this kid the ropes, alright? I can’t stick around here all day.”
“Alright Bill. No problem.”
Bill stumbles away, pausing to shout at a worker repainting the same spot several times. “Yo, Lyons! This isn’t art class! Get your shit together, we don’t got all day!”
Bill flips open his phone. “What’s up, kid? I’m headin’ over now.” He opens the door to his Chevy pickup, and gets in. Keep the beers cold, guy. See ya then. Nargle.” He hangs up and speeds off.
Donnie pulls a bottle of Vodka out of his car. “Alright, who wants to go vertical on this?”
NEXT: JACK LYONS HAS A HEART-TO-HEART
