The following is a deleted excerpt from RIGIL, a coming-of-age novel I republished last year. This scene didn’t make the final draft cut for various reasons, but as I’m editing book two and going over one of the original drafts, I thought I’d share the ‘deleted scenes’…
Thursday, August 14, 2025
On Sunday, I searched SpaceLook’s trade-share column for a new landscaping contractor, finding one with an average 3.9-star review… maybe they run late sometimes.
“Hello,” she answers.
“Hi, good morning. I’m calling, looking to get our courtyard edged and gardens done. We have about a—.”
“Yes, good morning,” she interrupts. “This is Deliah with Garden’s Pledge & Till.”
“A fuckin’ till?” I ask.
“Excuse you?”
“Sorry, hi again. But I run Tower 521 off 66th. I need a landscaper specializing in gardening.”
“You’ve got the right girl.”
“Okay. And what do you need from me?”
“Well, what’s your name? And how soon would you like us to inspect and do a consultation?”
“I’ll send you all our information. How’s tonight?”
Breezing across the L.D.S. receiver, her breath fogs our silence, seeming as though she uses the outdated L.D.S. bullshit [cell phone] complementary from TheDistrict’s Small Business Commission. “So, yeah…” she says. “I see your building hasn’t used the same company since Chad. And you guys have a quarter acre?”
“That’s what he bargained.”
“Interesting. If you don’t mind my asking, who’s the ownership under?”
“Me.”
“That’s perfect. I founded Garden’s Pledge four years ago. I have two workers who assist with estimations and groundwork, but you’d be working with me mostly. How’s Tuesday looking?”
“That’s fine. And again, sorry for the language. When I heard ‘till,’ I first thought of those old things at grocery stores.”
“Apology accepted. But what are those?” She asks.
“You know, the machines they used at checkout?”
“Online?”
“No, stores. Like a cash register?”
“Hmm…”
“Where cashiers put dollars and coins?”
“Maybe I’ve seen them in movies…” she ponders.
The call ends.
I toss my phone.
“Yuck.”
Staring into its receiver, the cadence in her voice remains to seep through my eardrums. Our building has always had Perkins, but no one to vet contractors.
.
.
While Chad first hired paperless workers to perfect the courtyard’s original layout, his family left referrals rescinding at the edges of his colleagues’ tongues. Our prospective tenant list needs a revamp—all credit-worthy individuals and families—but as each apartment goes vacant, our headaches in finding another Avantian willing to remain shitting above others.
…referring to our residents who feel empowered to be sex organs for TheDistrict’s machine.
-B. Hansen
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