Still Rattled

by Charles, Jane

  After we finish up the attic, we all head off to bed, knowing tomorrow is going to be another busy day. I’m torn between wanting to wake Kelsey and show her, and letting her sleep. The guys convince me to let her sleep.

  By the time I come back downstairs again, it’s about nine in the morning and she’s gone. On the coffee table is a note. “Thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”

  That’s it? Nothing else? Where the hell did she go?

  Why the hell did she leave?

  “So, what are you going to do?” Mary asks after coming into my room and crawling into bed with me.

  I tried to sleep after I got back here, but my brain wouldn’t shut off, and all I’ve done is lie here, depression sinking in deeper and deeper. I know I should pull myself out and try to find something good about my situation, but there isn’t anything good. I haven’t felt this hopeless since right after Brandon was killed and I was thrown back into the system. “I don’t know.”

  “I could get bunk beds and you could move in with me.”

  Mary means well and I laugh. “I’m tempted, just to piss Shelby off, but I want to be as far away from her as soon as I can. Plus, it’s in violation of the lease and would give them a reason to kick you out too.”

  “I’m sorry, I should have mentioned the missing lease to you sooner. I just thought it was mine.”

  “She probably shredded both of ours, though I don’t understand why she’d want you gone.”

  “My mom works in the Army!” Mary points out. “And my dad was a soldier. The poor thing probably feels like she’s been slumming for the past year and a half.”

  “Maybe there’s a spa out there so she can thoroughly cleanse herself,” I offer thoughtfully, not feeling the least bit of concern over how much Shelby may assume she suffered.

  “Massage.”

  “Herbal treatments.”

  “Facial.”

  “Pedicure and manicure.”

  “The poor thing. I hope there’s a good therapist out there to help.”

  “And slap the shit out of her.”

  Mary’s phone dings, and she glances down then shows it to me. Did you see the blog about your roommate?

  It’s from a popular blogger who likes nothing better than to trash people on campus. Nobody is safe once they come under his radar. Deans, teachers, students. Nobody. “Oh shit. I don’t think I can take anything else.”

  “You don’t know it’s about you.”

  “Who else would it be about?” I pull the covers up over my head while Mary clicks on the link.

  A minute later she’s laughing, shaking the bed and pulling the covers from my face. “You’ve got to read this.”

  “Just read it to me,” I groan.

  “Looking for a good fuck. Well, don’t take what Shelby King is offering.”

  My eyes pop open and I sit up.

  “We all know Shelby. The pretty socialite who waltzes around campus, looking down her nose at the rest of us lowly humans. She’s known for dating guys, lots and lots of guys, for roughly two to four weeks before kicking them to the curb. All she’s really looking for is a good fuck. She’s admitted as much. Miss King sets her sights on poor, unsuspecting guys, lets them wine and dine her, then lures them into her bed. Don’t fall for her false charm, gentlemen. She’ll dump you the moment she’s had you. Why? Because Shelby King does not have a heart. This has not been proven scientifically, but we’re certain that is the case. She’s gone so far as to profess deep caring, only to turn around and laugh in some sap’s face that she’d never consider someone who would actually have to work after graduation and who doesn’t already have a large trust fund at their disposal. She may be looking for a good fuck, and I’m sure she’s gotten plenty, but if that is what you are looking for, don’t bother with Shelby. You’ll get more participation and enthusiasm from a geriatric with double hip replacements.”

  “Oh My God!” I laugh. “Karma is a bitch.”

  “I know! Right!” Mary grins at me. “I think I’ll print it and tape it to her door.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Mary sobers and blinks at me. “She has a right to know. It’s only right that we give her a warning.”

  “And, if you just happen to be there when she reads it.”

  “We will be there. I’m not moving from the couch until she wakes up and sees it.”

  I push the covers aside. “Time to make the coffee.”

  For the first time in hours, I’m finally looking forward to something. I shouldn’t be happy that Shelby’s been trashed like this, but I can’t help it. She’s a bitch and has screwed me over royally. Now I get to watch as she gets hers.

  Mary is clicking through her phone as I make the coffee. “It’s getting shared all over social media. I’m not sure there isn’t a student or teacher who won’t read it by the end of the day. Who do you think prompted the blogger?” she asks.

  “The computer guy. He did tell Alex that he wouldn’t need to see Shelby again to bring her down.”

  I texted Mary this morning since Kelsey wasn’t responding to my calls or texts. She promises to keep Kelsey there. Apparently they have special plans this morning and neither one is leaving the apartment. When I asked what, she said it would be much more fun to show me.

  At least I won’t have to look for her anywhere since today is the move. Kelsey doesn’t know it yet, but I want her out of there. It’s bad enough that she can’t trust two of her roommates, but it isn’t exactly a safe place either. Not with Shelby bringing back so many guys. One of these days it’s going to be the wrong one and she’ll be on the front page, and not for something good happening, and I don’t want Kelsey’s picture there with her. If Mary didn’t have a thing for Dylan and he didn’t refuse to discuss her, I would have insisted on cleaning out the other room so the two could have the place. But, since I don’t know what Dylan has against Mary, I don’t even want to suggest bringing her into the house.

  We’ve found every box that we can, not that there are that many, and loaded the van. Sean drove and the rest of us took the subway. Mainly because there wasn’t any place left to sit in the van.

  Now is when I start having doubts as the stops flash by on the way to her place. What if she doesn’t want to live in the attic? Not that it’s a bad space. It’s roomy and bright. Better than what she has now, and nobody will make her hide her dates in her room.

  What if she doesn’t want to live in the same house with me? Things are going good for us, but she did shoot me down last night when I suggested she just move in my room.

  But, that was in my room. Not her own space. There is a difference.

  On the other hand, what if we don’t work out. That’s going to be uncomfortable, both living there and no longer not having sex with each other. And, there would be other guys. There would have to be, but that doesn’t mean I want them in my house.

  Then again, she’s moving closer to Baxter in the summer.

  Shit! She’ll be moving three hours away. Then what? See each other on weekends? I know I thought about this before, but I’m a hell of a lot more invested now, and I don’t like the idea of her being there and me being here.

  On the other hand, there is no longer a guarantee Kelsey will be at Baxter. She still needs to student teach and graduate.

  But, she can’t concentrate on doing any of that while she’s worrying about where she will live.

  I push through the crowd, following my roommate as we get off at her stop and head up the stairs. It’s Mary who answers the buzzer and lets us in. I’m pretty sure she and Kelsey just think it’s me, not that I think Mary will care, or Kelsey. And, the guys and I plan on making as much noise as possible while we move Kelsey out.

  Kelsey is leaning against the counter, sipping coffee when we come in. Her eyes widen when the other guys follow me in.

  “Why are all of you here?” she asks slowly.

  “It’s moving day,” Christian announces loudly.

  “
Moving day?” She looks at each one of us, her brown eyes narrow in confusion. “I haven’t found a place.”

  “We found one for you.” Dylan walks into her room. “So is the furniture yours, or just your personal stuff?”

  “Furniture is mine,” she answers slowly. “Not that it’s much.”

  “So, what were the plans you two have?” I ask Kelsey.

  She shrugs and I look at Mary. She nods to a piece of paper taped to Shelby’s door. I walk over and read it. “Holy Shit! He did say he was going to get his revenge.” That’s probably the best thing I’ve read in a long time.

  “We can’t wait to see her reaction, which is why we aren’t moving,” Mary tells us with a grin.

  The other guys gather around and read it and before long are laughing. At this rate, if Shelby was asleep, she won’t be for long.

  It was our intention to be loud and as unpleasant as possible, only because we want to give that roommate no consideration whatsoever since she’s shown none to Kelsey.

  Sean enters a minute later carrying a stack of boxes.

  “Wait!” Kelsey shouts. “I don’t have a place and I’m just not going to let you guys move me where you think I should be.”

  “But it’s perfect, Kels,” Dylan says.

  “Can I at least be the judge of that?” She shakes her head. “Besides, what’s the rent? I’m on a very tight budget. Especially since I don’t even know if I’m going to be getting a paycheck next semester.”

  We never discussed rent. I glance at the guys. Sean grabs his phone and starts punching into it and I try to calculate in my head.

  “At the most, $750 a month,” he answers. “Depending on how much is knocked off each month.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Depending on how much is knocked off? I’m not taking one of your rooms.” Then she looks pointedly at me. “And, I’m not sharing yours. I told you that last night.”

  “It’s not that, Kelsey,” Sean starts.

  “Then, what is it?”

  “The attic. There’s an apartment up there. A full apartment with kitchen, bath, bedroom, living room.” He looks around. “Bigger than this place.”

  “Then why aren’t one of you using it?”

  “Didn’t need to,” Zachary shrugs.

  “There aren’t any appliances in the kitchen though,” Dylan adds. “But that’s not a big deal since we have a full kitchen you can use and I know you like my cooking.”

  “But, I’d still be living in a house with you guys. It’s not right.”

  “Doesn’t have to be that way,” Ryan offers. “It’s at the top and has a door to a small deck and stairs leading to the back, for fire safety. They are sturdy and safe. You could come and go that way and never see us if you want.”

  I seriously hope she doesn’t go for that option.

  “But, there is one drawback, an agreement we’ll have to make,” Ryan says.

  “Okay, what?”

  “The back of the apartment is a storage room. It’s my dark room. I need to get in there at times.”

  “Like I’d keep you from that? It’s not like it’s my place.”

  “But it will be,” Sean insists.

  “I don’t know, guys. One of you could use that place, or rent it to anyone.”

  “We don’t want to rent it to anyone else,” I tell her. “At least try it for a while. If you don’t like living above a bunch of guys, then look for another place.”

  She bites her lip and looks around. “Okay, but only temporarily since I need to get out of here.”

  “We’ll get the rest of the boxes from the van and start loading up your furniture.”

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Shelby demands as she opens the door.

  “It’s moving day.” Kelsey grins at her. “You wanted me gone. I’m leaving.”

  She just rolls her eyes. “Try to be a little more quiet about it, will you?” Just as she turns she spots Christian and a slow smile comes to her lips. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he responds.

  “Haven’t I seen you on stage? Saxophone player, right?”

  “I play the sax,” he answers.

  She walks toward him, her eyes raking his body from head to toe. That woman has no shame. “We should get a cup of coffee sometime. I really love the sax.”

  “Sizing me up for a good fuck?”

  She blinks at him. “Excuse me? What did Kelsey tell you? She’s just mad at me. Don’t let a little disagreement between roommates color your opinion of me.”

  He laughs. “So, it’s not just a good fuck you’re after?”

  She gives him a sly grin. “You never know what could happen.”

  “Not exactly desperate here, and if I were, it would never be you.” Then he turns to Kelsey. “Care where we begin or just let Dylan organize?”

  “Don’t care.” She grins at him.

  Shelby just stands there gaping at him them turns to stomp back to her room. “What is this?” She rips the piece of paper from the door and starts reading. Her eyes getting wider, jaw dropping and face turning bright red. “Why that…that….Oh, he’ll be so fucking sorry when I’m done with him.” With that she slams the door and this just might be the highlight of my day.

  This is really mine. For as long as I need it. It’s so big. My clothing won’t even begin to fill the closet, my bedroom furniture barely takes up a third of the space and all I have in the living room is my desk and television. The walls practically echo with our voices.

  One cupboard has my food. The other my dishes. The rest are empty. The bathroom is even roomier, and after everything is put away, there are still empty shelves in the linen closet.

  “We’ll have to get you some furniture, unless you just want to sit on the floor.”

  That splurge won’t happen until I know I have a job. As it is, I’ll have a hard enough time paying room and board with what is left of my grant money. It’s been a life saver during college. Especially while attending a school that has little to no student housing.

  There’s a quiet knock on my door, and I call down for them to come in. My door ends at the bottom of a set of stairs that opens to the fourth floor. I can be up here and block out the entire world. Not that I really want to block anyone out. At least not now. Not after I found out that as the guys arrived that night, while I was on my computer looking for a place, they were coming straight up here to fix the place up. Preparing a place for me to live as a surprise.

  My eyes still water at their thoughtfulness. I’ve got to figure out a way to pay them back. Ever since I walked in to get that tattoo and Alex brought me back here, they’ve taken care of me. Been there at Baxter and helped me move today. I didn’t even ask. They just did.

  And, for the first time in weeks, I feel like something is starting to go right.

  My phone starts ringing and I check the i.d. My heart starts pounding when I see my academic instructor’s name and quickly answer.

  “Kelsey, I think we finally have a school.”

  I want to shout halleluiah, but control my excitement.

  “It’s not the best school. In fact, it’s closer to the bottom, and we haven’t sent a student teacher there in years.”

  “It’s not like I can be picky at this point.”

  “To be honest, most schools wouldn’t consider you because of the television segment.”

  “I understand.”

  “This school is the opposite and actually sees it as a plus in your favor.”

  “Huh?”

  “They will explain. She’d like to meet with you today, before their winter break starts.”

  “Great. What time, I’ll be there.”

  “Two. I’ll let her know to expect you.”

  “Where?”

  Then she gives me the address and my heart sinks. I’ve spent my entire life in New York City with the exception of my years at Baxter, and she is sending me to a not so great place to be. Plus, the school is listed as one of the most dangerous. I’m
not sure how dangerous, but the title might as well have been “Don’t Send Your Kids Here.”

  “If you don’t want to go, I understand and will keep looking.”

  “No,” I insist. “I’ll go.” Beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s not like I don’t get that the world sucks for a lot of people.

  I click off the phone and look at Alex. “I have an interview to student teach.”

  “That’s great.” He hugs me and then gives me a kiss.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “I don’t need to. It’s time your luck changed.”

  Kelsey and I stepped into the subway at the same time, each going in separate directions. I have to get to work, and she is going off for an interview. She’s got to get this. She needs this. Enough shitty things have been happening to her since that damn segment aired, and it’s time something good happened.

  By the time I step into the shop, my customer is already waiting. I don’t know what she wants, and it doesn’t matter.

  That’s not true. It does matter. It matters to her, so it matters to me. Gone are the days I just do tats to make money. Kelsey taught me that it is so much more than ink in the skin. Joy too, if I had been paying attention. For Kelsey, to preserve a memory. For Joy, to banish one. And since, for my customers for the most part, it’s the same. I’ve even become selective of who I do tats on and have sent people way. Yesterday I put a lavender iris on the inside of a woman’s wrist because it was her mother’s favorite flower and it was the anniversary of her mother’s death. She’d been thinking about getting a tattoo for two years but didn’t exactly know what she wanted until last spring.

  The guy before her, I turned away. He wanted a pot leaf to cover his chest “because it’s cool and the guys will like it.” He’d turned eighteen a week earlier and was also getting a tattoo because his mom didn’t want him to have one. Another reason why not to get a tattoo. I get rebellion, but pick something that you won’t have to look at for the rest of your life and explain to a future wife and kids. Not that I have anything against pot. I couldn’t care less one way or the other. But I do care about putting it on the chest of a newly arrived adult.