by Nikki Castle
This is now the sixth apartment I've looked at and each one seems worse than the last. This one has zero parking, so I was forced to park way too far from the building.
Other issues today have included: a studio that would be small for even NYC, a crack house for neighbors, and windows that don't even close. Just for starters.
I rub my temples tiredly. I'm having zero luck finding an apartment that's in my budget and available within the next week. By number five I realized what I already knew in the back of my mind—that I'll need to wait until next month to move. Which also means I'll be living in Jax's house for a while.
I groan and lean my head back against the seat. I have two more apartments to see today and I'm the opposite of thrilled to see them.
I dial my sister on my cell. Miraculously, she actually picks up.
"Holy shit, you answered your phone," I exclaim. "It's a Christmas miracle."
Hailey's laugh rings out through my car speakers. "What's up? How's the apartment hunt?"
"Atrocious," I groan. "I have two more to see today and I am this close to bailing on the realtors. They were on the bottom of my list as is and if they're worse than the ones I've seen today then I think I'm actually a little scared."
"That bad?" she asks softly. I wince and rub my temples again. "I guess it makes sense. This isn't a good time for apartment hunting right now. All the college kids probably just took up all the decent spots, and the rest I assume are in shitty areas of Philly."
"Can you come with me to see the last two?" I plead. "I can't handle any more of these on my own."
"Yeah, sure," she responds instantly, and I think I love her for it. "I'm at Steve's, can you come pick me up?"
"Thank God," I tell her gratefully. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
Having Hailey with me at the next hellhole makes the task a little more bearable, but the place is still a major pass. I've had enough of living next to frat houses for the next few lifetimes.
"Okay, last one," I cringe. "Then we get plastered at the Irish Pub."
The next apartment isn't too far from Jax and Tristan's house, and we actually manage to find parking in front of the building. I get out of my car, already skeptical.
The street is pleasant enough. We're on a side street in South Philly and I see young couples and an occasional baby stroller when I look around.
"This is too good to be true," I mumble.
The realtor is waiting for us on the steps of the apartment complex. It's a somewhat newer building, which explains the price compared to what this area should be going for. They offer cheap prices to get people into the apartments immediately.
When we walk into the one bedroom that I called about, I realize with a sinking feeling that something must definitely be wrong here. It’s very clearly too good to be true.
The door opens to a little hallway, at the end of which is the bedroom and bathroom. Both are a great size. But it's the kitchen and living room that really take my breath away.
The kitchen is cozy—not overly large but with enough counter space that even I nod in approval. There's an island in the center with two barstools. Another huge checkmark on my list. I like to host, and I always prefer entertaining guests at an island while I prepare the food.
But the biggest selling point of this apartment is the living room that the kitchen opens into. Not because of the size or shape, but because the far wall is made up entirely of oversized windows.
I walk over to the windows and peer down to the street below. I can only imagine how beautiful the city's lights shine in here at night. I sigh and ready myself to be disappointed.
I turn back to the realtor. "It's incredible," I breathe. "What's the catch?"
He looks startled. "There's no catch," he assures me. "It's a one bedroom, $1,400/month, just like you asked for. And it's ready next month."
I groan. There it is.
"I needed it next week," I say, dejected.
He frowns as he looks down at the paper in his hands. "I'm sorry, I must've misheard you on the phone. I thought you were looking to move in next month. This building won't be ready until then so unfortunately I can't get you in here next week."
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I figured this was coming anyway, so I shouldn't really be surprised.
"I'll take it next month," I say. "Just send me the paperwork and I'll get everything signed. Deposit is first, last, and security, right? So, three months’ rent?"
He nods, still looking guilty. I smile weakly at him. "Okay, thanks for showing me around. We'll be in touch."
He leads Hailey and I back to our car and shakes our hands goodbye. When I slide back into the driver's seat, I pull out my cell and type a single message:
Remy: Guess I'm moving in with Tristan for a week
Twenty minutes later, Hailey and I are tucked comfortably in a booth at the back of the Irish Pub. It's the oldest Irish bar in the city and was Hailey's first job when she moved here, so we always get the VIP treatment.
"There you are. I thought I heard a little birdie whisper that you're here tonight."
We look up to see her old manager. Hailey's face breaks into a smile as she stands up to give him a hug.
"I thought I'd stop in to say hi since it's been a while," she says warmly. I wave politely at him.
"I'm glad you did, it's always good to see you. Shots are on the house. Tequila?"
I grin and nod. "That'd be awesome, thank you. This day's been dog shit, so tequila sounds like the only acceptable finisher."
He laughs and gives us a thumbs up. "Double shots it is. I'll be right back, ladies."
Hailey sighs. "I can't say I miss dealing with drunk assholes in here, but I do miss these particular assholes.” She turns back to me to finish the conversation we had started on the way over here. "So, will you just leave all your furniture and boxes at Mom and Dad's house? I can't imagine it would make sense to get a storage container for less than a month."
"Yeah, I guess that's the easiest choice. God knows their basement is big enough for all my shit." I rub my eyes tiredly. "I can't get over how annoying this whole thing is. I'll have to rent a U-Haul twice instead of just making one move from one apartment to the other. Ugh, stupid Dan's family…"
Hailey laughs. When I glare at her for finding my misfortune amusing, she holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, at least that new apartment is stunning," she points out. "I'm jealous. New buildings are definitely the way to go. They're always so cheap."
"Yeah, except their timing is subpar," I grumble.
"Except that," she concedes. "But Jax gave you the okay to stay at his place for that week? The timing of his trip works out pretty perfectly."
I wince and sip my beer. "Tell me about it. I was not looking forward to sleeping on a couch for that long. At least this way I actually have my own space and can hole up when I need to. Which I assume will be almost the entire time, since I'll be sharing a house with Tristan." I groan and drop my head onto my arms. "Why does he have to be Jax's best friend? Why can't Jax live with a nice, intelligent gentleman?"
"It looks like these shots really are coming at a good time," I hear someone murmur above me. I look up to see my sister’s old manager holding three shot glasses. "For whoever needs a little extra," he explains, nudging the extra shot toward us.
"You're a godsend," I groan, reaching for one of the doubles. "Thank you."
"Anytime," he grins. He looks at Hailey. "I wish I could stay and chat but it's obviously a little crazy in here. Catch me before you leave. It was great to see you again." His eyes light with a mischievous twinkle. "And you know anytime you need a job you have a spot waiting right here for you…"
Hailey laughs and shakes her head. "Not gonna happen, but I always appreciate the offer. Thanks again for the drinks."
At the mention of it I throw back a double and wince as it burns my throat. I sigh and settle back in the booth, waiting for the calm that alcohol always brings ov
er me. This day's been so horrific that I figure it can only go up from here.
I would be very wrong in that assumption.
"So, I hear we're going to be roommates."
I freeze when I recognize the voice. Slowly, I turn to glare daggers at Tristan standing in front of our booth.
"Trust me, it's not my first option," I growl. "Or my second. I hate this just as much as you do, so let's just set some ground rules right now and start off on the right foot."
He raises an eyebrow at me. "You're going to set ground rules in my house?"
"Yes," I snap. "Otherwise, I'm not sure we'll both survive."
He rolls his eyes but makes room for himself on my side of the booth. I scowl as he hip checks me to move over.
"Okay, rule number one," I start. "We stay out of each other's rooms. I know you like to barge into Jax's room and borrow his shit so that stops for the time that I'm there."
"But what if I'm out of condoms and need the stash in his dresser?" he whines dramatically.
If looks could kill… Tristan wouldn’t have a pulse.
"Then I guess there will be one less notch in your bedpost," I snap. "Which brings me to rule number two: I do not want to hear you railing some idiot sophomore that doesn't know any better in the middle of the night. I wake up early like any decent adult, so quiet time starts at 11pm." I glare at him pointedly to make sure I've made myself clear. "And on a similar note, I don't want to walk into the house to see you fucking anyone, either. So, no sex outside of your bedroom."
Tristan finally shakes his head with a chuckle. "You've obviously put a lot of thought into my sexual activities. Are you sure you're not just trying to limit the amount of women in my life because you're secretly jealous?"
Hailey lets out a loud laugh. I glance at her, startled. I completely forgot she was here. I glare at her then return my attention to the smirking asshole next to me.
"You keep telling yourself whatever you need to in order to feel better about the fact that I won't sleep with you," I snort. I consider something, then ask, "Am I the only girl to ever turn you down? Oh my god, I am, aren't I? Wow, that explains why I get under your skin so much." I laugh delightedly.
But the laughter dies in my throat when I feel him press his lips against my ear. "Sweetheart, I’ve never asked you," he whispers condescendingly. "I hate to burst your bubble, but you always just assumed."
I can feel my cheeks burn red. I glare at him and shove his body out of the booth. He laughs triumphantly as he stands up.
"See ya later, Remy baby," he taunts as he walks away.
I'm seething as I grab the other double shot and down it without so much as a wince.
"Well, this is going to be interesting," Hailey murmurs.
2
Remy
I wake up to the delicious smell of eggs and bacon wafting through my apartment. I groan happily, thinking for the millionth time how grateful I am that my sister is a brilliant chef.
Sure enough, when I shuffle into the kitchen with bedhead and a sleepy smile, I see Hailey at the stove with a skillet in her hand and a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. She flips the omelet as I plop down on the bar stool behind the island.
"I don't know how you do it," I mumble. "It's 7am and you're already dressed for work looking perfect, making a breakfast that would've taken me an hour to figure out."
"That's because your cooking skills are so bad that you have to pore over every line of a recipe and then look up what 'mincing' means," she laughs. I glare at the back of her head—even though she's spot on. I actually burned water once.
"Not the point," I grumble. "I think the joke about you being dropped off by the stork might have some truth to it, since no one else in the family is even close to being an early bird. I don't know where you got it from."
She shrugs as she slides the omelet onto the plate in front of me. My mouth immediately starts watering. "I have a lot to do today," she reasons. "I'd rather get to the café early and get everything done so I have time to make Steve dinner before he gets home."
I pause my chewing as I consider my next question. I've sensed something is off about my sister's relationship recently, but she hasn't seemed eager to talk about it, so I haven't pushed. But my sister spidey senses are starting to go from tingling to fire alarms and I feel like I need to start pushing a little bit.
"You can always sleep here if you don't want to go home," I tell her softly. "I know you guys have been a little off lately. Maybe you need some space. Like more than a night."
Her shoulders drop and I can practically feel the sadness in her stance. "No, it's okay. I want to see him tonight. He already texted me this morning that he misses me and can't wait to see me. I'm just going to head home after work." She looks up at me with a fake smile plastered on her face. "All good. What's your day look like?"
Her deflection isn’t fooling anyone but I decide to drop the subject anyway. I dig back into my omelet.
"I have back-to-back meetings with some of the Subject Matter Expert engineers today," I say around a mouthful of egg. "I read over what they wrote and now I have to sit down with them and basically translate their techy speak into normal person speak. It's great. I get to be looked at like I'm an idiot all day long. I'm living the dream."
Hailey shoots me a pitying glance. I don't even have it in me to jokingly wave it off.
"Thanks for the omelet," I say with a mouth full of bacon. "This is one of your best."
"Bacon crispy enough for you? I practically turned it into charcoal."
I glare at her smug face, both of us remembering the time she actually burned my bacon to charcoal so she could prove to me that there was such a thing as 'too burnt.'
"Yes, it's perfectly crispy," I snap as I shove another piece of bacon in my mouth.
She laughs as she dumps her dishes in the sink and finishes the rest of her coffee. Slipping on her pea coat, she grabs her tote bag off the island. "Okay, well, I'm out. Thanks for letting me stay over. I'll call you tomorrow to figure out the plan with Jax for the fights this weekend. Which I'm actually looking forward to, by the way. I can't remember the last time the three of us hung out with just us."
I smile when I realize she's right. Once Jax and I went off to college, it was rare that the three of us managed to get our schedules to match. This Saturday will be the first time in a while that we’ll all be together.
"Okay, have fun at work," I tell her as I happily crunch through the last piece of bacon. "And let me know if Steve acts up. I’ve been itching to introduce him to Bennie."
She lets out a loud laugh. "Let's not bring Bennie the Bat into this just yet.”
I grin triumphantly at the fact that I made my sister laugh. "You just tell me when you're ready for him. Bennie hasn't seen any action since your high school boys."
"Nuh uh, you said you brought him out when that guy in your hall thought he could follow you into your dorm room."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that guy." I frown. "Guys are fucking morons."
She laughs again and I swear it's the happiest sound in the whole world.
I turn back to my plate with a sigh, a small frown crossing my face. I love my sister more than anything and it kills me when she's not happy. From the age of fourteen she's been a supremely independent person, doing what she needs to do to be successful and creating her own happiness—she’s never been reliant on another person for either of those things. Jax and I have known her current boyfriend wasn't going to be the one, for the sole reason that he doesn't drive her to be better and doesn’t particularly add anything to her life. But we never thought he could actually drag her down. We just always assumed Hailey would cut any guy the second he started giving her more bad times than happy ones.
Right now, it definitely seems like he's making her more unhappy than happy. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why Hailey would keep him around if that's the case.
I huff in frustration and finish the last few bites of
my omelet. I can't help my sister until she wants to be helped so in the meantime, I've got my own problems to deal with.
I think about the meetings I have scheduled today while I get dressed. As much as I would love to be the kind of writer that works from home wearing leggings and the messiest of messy buns, somewhere along my career I've become the kind of writer that exists in Corporate America. I open my closet, looking through my clothes for something that says, 'professional and beautiful but not looking for attention or like I'm trying to sleep my way to the top.'
I never thought there would be such a fine line.
In the end I settle on a black pencil skirt that reaches my knees and a dusty pink patterned blouse that I tuck into the skirt. I twirl my hair into a low bun at the nape of my neck, laughing to myself when I think about how Jax calls it my 'bitch bun.' I briefly debate pulling on heels, but when I remember that my first meeting is with Paul ‘the Ass Man,’ I grab my flats instead.
I complete the look with mascara and a swipe of lip gloss and then I'm grabbing the tote bag with my laptop and walking out the door.
Two hours later and with my second cup of coffee, I'm thanking all the deities in the world for my sensible shoe choice.
For one, Paul only paid attention to half of our meeting, spending the other half acting like I didn't see his constant glances at my legs. If I had worn heels, it's likely the whole meeting would've been a waste instead of just half of it. Even still, I'll be working late tonight trying to write the datasheet that Paul should've drafted before our meeting. But for another, sore feet are the last thing I need on this already-shit-at-10am workday.
I wince as I rub my temples. I have four more Subject Matter Expert engineers to meet with today and it's rare that these particular meetings are ever enjoyable. Where my job is to simplify and clearly market our company's software, the engineers that I meet with can't understand how anyone could possibly not understand what they're talking about. They're so wrapped up in their world that they're subconsciously assuming everyone has their engineer brain and can comprehend the level at which they're speaking. And in my effort to simplify their content and put it into layman's terms for a datasheet that will be used for marketing, they always end up looking at me like I'm an idiot.
