Secret Rooms and Stolen Kisses: A Romance (Bank Street Stories Book 4)

by Brooke St. James

  I had talked to Mister McCain about it quite a bit before he retired. He was happy that I would be the one taking it over, and he showed me all around and let me take measurements before he moved out. That storage room in the back that was almost as big as the storefront, and I couldn't wait to get in there and see it now that those endless rows of shelves and boxes were out.

  The whole place had beautiful wood floors that I was hoping to have refinished for a perfect dancing surface. I could see it all—dancers dressed out and lined up in an orderly row with artwork displayed on the walls. I was planning on painting it a soft, neutral color, either gray or tan.

  "You're lost again," Jesse said, waving to get my attention. She had her purse on her shoulder and was already sitting on the edge of the seat like she was ready to stand up.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I was thinking about the wall color in the studio. Mom said there are some good whites out there, but I just keep picturing it gray."

  "I say paint them gray, then. Do what you want." Jesse put her arm in mine as soon as I stood up from my place at the booth. "Come with me to the restroom," she said.

  I was about to protest and say that I didn't need to use the restroom, but I realized that she probably didn't need to use it either, and she was just looking for an excuse to walk by that table of guys.

  We said goodbye to Maggie as we walked toward the restroom for an unnecessary pitstop. It was crowded in the diner, and Jesse got away with staring at their table without having them notice at all.

  "Did you see him? Oh, my flipping goodness!" She whispered to me as we rounded the corner. "Two of them were cute but that one guy, gosh, Tara. Did you see him? I've definitely never seen him before. He must be friends with JoAnn Benson's brother, though, because I'm pretty sure that's who was wearing the blue shirt. Todd. Todd Benson."

  "You are a mess," I said. I stopped in my tracks and lifted the box of leftovers that I was holding. "I'm not going in there with this," I said, gesturing to the restroom door. "I need to go. I wanted to run upstairs and put this in the fridge before my meeting."

  "Okay, I seriously need to go to the restroom. But good luck with your landlord. Where are you meeting him? In the jewelry store?"

  I smiled. "Yeah, soon to be dance studio. I'm taking a camera with me. I'll snap some pictures while I'm in there with him."

  She made a little squealing noise and excitement as she reached out to hug me. "I'll see you in a couple of months," she said since she was headed back to Lubbock later today.

  "Okay, do good on your finals."

  "I will," she said. "Do good on your meeting."

  "Thank you."

  I walked down the hallway and out of the restaurant. I didn't so much as spare a glance at Todd Benson's table on my way out. I waved at two people I knew at other tables, but I was focused and didn't stop to chat with anyone.

  I left the diner through the door on the corner and walked up the south side of the street, passing the windows of the diner before going past my father's boxing gym. I peered inside and could see my father in the back, working with a few guys. I didn't go in or try to get his attention. I kept walking, past the small seamstress shop before crossing the street. Technically, I was jay walking, but no one was around, and this stretch of Bank Street felt like my living room, anyway.

  I waved at Mister Randall who was standing on the sidewalk near my aunt and uncle's hardware store. Just past the hardware store was where my building started. First was the doorway that led to the Seabreeze Apartments. There was a door with an awning which opened into an entryway with three mailboxes and a set of stairs going up to apartments 201, 202, and 203. (Mine was 201.)

  Right next to the door that led to the Seabreeze was where the old jewelry store began. There were windows lining two sides of the building, but the door to the store was situated on Bank Street, not far from the door to my apartment. I would literally have to walk ten feet to work. I could hardly believe this store was now gloriously vacant and about to be mine. I glanced inside before I went upstairs, imagining it with bars and mirrors instead of that big u-shaped counter that took up the entire floor right now.

  My dad had already looked at it and said he could help me take it out before we got the floors refinished. Mister McCain wasn't able to promise the place to me, but he was sure I'd get it. He left a note for the landlord, putting in a good word for me and my family, so we were sure he would rent it to me.

  I was at home on this corner, and I was elated with how things were working out. I was nervous about paying the rent in addition to the rent on my apartment, but I had already talked to my parents, and they were willing to help me until the business gained momentum. Plus, I figured maybe I could ask the landlord for a discount, seeing as how I was renting two places from him.

  I only took a few seconds to glance inside before I went into the door that lead to my apartment. I walked up the stairs and circled back to apartment 201. It was the best of the three. They were all nice, but mine overlooked Bank Street and the corner. It would be a dream come true to live here and own the business downstairs. I was just getting started with all of this, and it already felt like I had everything I could ever want.

  I didn't want to be too early, so I stayed in my apartment for ten minutes before walking downstairs for the big meeting. I took some things with me—a camera, some photos of my old dance studio, and some photos of ideas I had for a new one. I even made him a little booklet to take back to Tennessee so he knew exactly what was going on in his building. I was as prepared as I'd ever be.

  I checked my reflection several times before I walked downstairs. There was a clock downstairs near the mailboxes, and it told me that I was three minutes early, which seemed perfect. I hadn't seen William Harper in the store when I walked by a few minutes before, but I hoped he'd be there by now.

  He wasn't. I tried to open the front door of the store when I got downstairs, and sure enough, it was locked.

  My father's name was William, and so was my brother's. They went by Billy and Will, but it was still a cool coincidence that they shared a name with my landlord, and I thought it would be one of the first conversation points I would hit once I met Mister Harper.

  I peered into the storefront, smiling and planning how it would all go down.

  "It's closed," I heard a man say from behind me. I turned. It was the man from the restaurant—the one Jesse had been checking out.

  "Oh, I know it's closed," I said. "Are you talking about the jewelry store? I know it's closed. I actually have a meeting in here. I'm waiting for the guy who owns this building."

  "I'm the guy who owns this building," he said, with an easy smile. He was young, and he had on jeans and a t-shirt with sandals, and I smiled, knowing he was kidding around. It crossed my mind that he was hitting on me. I was all dressed up after all.

  "What's your name, then?" I asked.

  "Trey Harper."

  "I’m here to meet William Harper. Are you his son or something?"

  "Yes. But technically, I'm William, too," he said. "It's just nobody ever calls me that."

  He casually walked up to the door and unlocked it. I watched him, my heart pounding. It wasn't that he was young and handsome. I couldn’t care less about that. It was that he was the owner of this building. My ever-loving fate was in his hands.

  "I thought I was meeting Mrs. Harper's son."

  "I am Mrs. Harper's son," he said, cutting his eyes at me playfully. "But the Mrs. Harper you're thinking of… Joan Harper… the lady who used to live here… I'm her great-grandson. Her son was the first William. I'm the third. Hence the name Trey."

  "Huh." I made a sound in my chest, indicating that I was listening to him and that I thought his story was interesting. But I was too busy processing everything. Was he the actual owner of this building? I still wasn't understanding. I walked into the empty store, and he followed me, turning on lights even though there was a lot of light coming in through the windows.

 
; "Is your dad coming?" I asked.

  "My dad's playing golf in Brentwood, Tennessee right now. Why?"

  "Oh, I thought he was my landlord. William. Is he the owner, or are you?"

  Trey was moving around, turning on lights and looking at things. "I am," he said. "And I am so relieved that I came down here. My family was all wrong about this place."

  He groaned a little as he opened some drapes that were covered in dust and looked like they hadn't been open in years. Dust flew everywhere, and he backed up, instinctually covering his nose with his t-shirt. I did the same, stepping back and covering my nose even though I was halfway across the room. He let out a little humorless laugh as he looked at me, somewhat astonished.

  "I thought this place was a dump all along. My great-grandmother passed away two years ago. I got a letter from a lawyer saying she left me this property. It's a long story, but for several reasons, I assumed this was a dump of a building in Podunk, Texas, and I wanted nothing to do with it other than to cash the rent checks. Joan had a falling out with my grandpa, and none of us knew her growing up." He paused and gestured around himself smiling. "I thought she was a crazy old lady. I thought this was going to be something on the verge of being condemned, until I got here and realized this place isn't bad at all. It's a great little town, and the building's amazing. Way better than I expected. I wasn't even getting two thousand a month for rent on this whole building, so I just assumed it was in shambles." He let out a little humorless laugh. "I'm so glad I came." He stopped walking and took a deep breath standing in the middle of the room and looking around and filling his lungs with the scent of possibility. "Now I'm thinking maybe my great-grandmother wasn't so bad after all. Maybe she just knew nothing about managing real estate."

  "Oh, so, are you going to make changes?" I asked, trying not to seem mortified.

  "Oh, yeah, absolutely. I knew the rent had to go up when I first got here, but I wasn't sure how much. I didn't know much about the market in Galveston. But I was just talking to a real estate agent who said I could get at least double what I was getting for these places."

  "Double for what places?"

  "This storefront and the apartments upstairs. There's three of them up there."

  "I know."

  "Oh, you do?"

  "Yes. I live there."

  "You do?"

  "Yes, I, I thought you knew that. I'm a tenant upstairs, but I'm also here to talk to you about renting this space down here."

  "Oh, well the price just went waaaay up," he said.

  He was being happy and lighthearted, and I felt more like I was lightheaded.

  "I, I'm Tara Castro," I said, trying to switch gears, sound confident, distract him, convince him that he didn't need more money. "I live upstairs. I rent apartment 201 right there." I pointed upward since I was currently standing under my bedroom. "I'm a long-standing member of this community. I love this city, and especially this block we're on right here. My dad is a boxer. His gym is—"

  "I know. It's across the street. I already went by there. Easy Billy Castro. I didn't even realize he was from Texas."

  "You know of him?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  "Well, I'm his daughter, Tara."

  "I knew that, too."

  "How?"

  "I had lunch with a real estate agent just now. You were over there. I asked about you, and he told me who you were."

  "Is Todd Benson selling real estate now?"

  "No, Todd's a contractor. It was the other guy, Justin."

  When he said that name, I figured out that it was a guy named Justin Harrison, but I didn't say anything. I was stunned. I wasn't expecting to walk into an honest monologue where he announced that he was going to be raising the rent. And now, I had told him who I was, and it didn't seem like that was going to change things. I went from feeling excited and hopeful to frustrated and hopeless. It was truly amazing how feelings change so quickly.

  "Were you talking about raising the rent on my apartment?" I asked, blinking at him.

  The dust had mostly settled, but I got caught staring at a few particles that were floating in the air between us.

  "Oh, no, not right this minute. I'm going to honor your contract amount until the lease is up."

  "I've only got, like, four months left."

  "Yeah, one of them, the guy in 202, has a month left, then you have four months. The couple in the back, they just signed theirs. They have ten months."

  "Stan, in apartment 202, only has a month?"

  "Yeah, but that one couple just renewed." He breathed a defeated sigh. "I wish I would have come here before that happened. I thought I was thankful to have them renew, so I didn't change anything, but they've been raking me over the coals this whole time!"

  "Nobody's raking you over coals. Stan's been living in that apartment for ten years."

  "Exactly, and only paying three hundred dollars a month. What the heck? It's no wonder he doesn't leave. I mean, of course, I'll give him first dibs on staying in the place if he wants to sign again, but the rent is going up. There's no question about it. This whole building—I can get double the rent in the condition it's in. Justin was saying that if I do a few renovations, I can get even more than that."

  "What about down here? The jewelry store?"

  "He said fourteen to sixteen hundred in the shape it's in. More if we fix it up. That's why I was talking to Todd."

  My heart was pounding and I had no idea what to say. I felt like I was in a dream. I expected this meeting to go so completely different. I was reeling. I didn't expect him to be young and in sandals. I didn't expect him to say any of this.

  "I don't think the rent here goes as high as it does in Nashville, though. We were used to paying this amount."

  He laughed. "I'm sure you were," he said.

  "What, so, you're just going to kick us out if we don't agree to pay the higher amount?"

  He gave me a sideways look, smiling a little like he must be missing something. "That's usually how it works," he said slowly.

  Chapter 3

  I felt utterly heartbroken, and this was only the first three minutes of my meeting with Mister Harper—if you could even call it a meeting. Basically, he was nonchalantly informing me that I was being kicked out of my apartment.

  I was so frustrated that I could barely even think about not getting to rent the business. I couldn't have this. I already had it all planned out. I didn't have a plan B.

  "Mister McCain was willing to sign his lease again and just let me move in and take over the rent," I said, regretting the fact that I ever called him in the first place. "And Ms. Gwendolyn's Dance Academy is a long-standing tradition here. My studio would be under her umbrella. I'm calling it something different, but I have Miss Gwendolyn's blessing, and she's even going to be sending some students my way—the ones who are driving from Jamaica Beach, you know. So, it's a really great business plan. I have it all mapped out. I was planning on making this place into a dance academy and part-time art gallery."

  He stared blankly at me, looking like he was trying to process everything I was saying. I had no idea what he was going to say.

  "I'd be happy to have you rent this place and turn it into a dance academy, if that's what you're proposing. I'd honestly rather give it to you than to Burger Time or 7 Eleven. If you can pay the rent, it's yours."

  "Burger Time or 7 Eleven? Where did they come from?"

  "My grandparents and parents are all into real estate. They have a ton of property in Tennessee. I bought a carwash when I turned seventeen, and I've been into it ever since. Anyway, I can tell that sort of business would want to rent this corner easily. My uncle owns eight franchises of Burger Time. I mentioned that to Todd, and he said one of those would go over well here."

  I put my hand up to get him to stop talking. I felt speechless, breathless. "Just wait a second," I said calmly, rationally. "Why would Todd Benson tell you it's acceptable to have a burger restaurant right here? Did he say that?"r />
  "Yeah, why? He said it'd go over great with all this foot traffic from the strand."

  "It would go over great," I said, staring at him. "That's why it's already been done. By Mister Carson… who opened the diner where you were just eating. They are a burger place."

  Trey smiled and shrugged, shaking his head. "Great, then I hope you rent it from me. You seem to already have a vision, and I'm fine with not renting it to a franchise. You can open whatever you want down here as long as you pay the rent on the first of the month."

  "Which is how much?"

  "Well, don't quote me on this, because there are still some variables. I need to see how much needs to be done, and what's going on upstairs, but down here, this will be in the ballpark of fifteen to eighteen."

  "Fifteen to eighteen what?" I asked.

  "Hundred."

  "Dollars a month?" I asked.

  "Yes." He nodded, looking at me with no shame or regret whatsoever, like that was completely reasonable.

  I let out a huffing, scoff sound that was completely involuntary. "We're talking about people's lives here," I said.

  "Mostly it's just your life and my life," he said with a little smile.

  "And everyone upstairs—Stan, and Mickey and Charlotte in the back."

  He stared at me for several seconds, wearing a serious expression. He shrugged a little, looking like he was attempting to be regretful.

  "I told you, I'm going to honor your leases," he said.

  "Yeah, but then, after that, you're just raising the rent by double?"

  "Yes," he said, not seeing a problem.

  "Is that legal?"

  He let out a little laugh. "Yes. It's perfectly legal. It's my building. I can charge whatever I want for rent. It's your choice whether or not you want to pay it. In fact, if you want to talk about legal and illegal, that whole plan about you taking over the jeweler's lease… that's called subletting, and it's illegal. It's goes against his contract. He can't do that."

  "Well, he's obviously not going to," I said, defensively.