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

by Brooke St. James

  I was angry and, honestly, embarrassed. I stared at him. "How can you just come in here and be so nonchalant with this?" I asked.

  He stared straight at me. He had a laidback vibe up until now, but as he stared at me, his dark brown eyes were a little more penetrating, serious. "How can you stand here and seriously think that I would take half of what something's worth? As far as I'm concerned, you should have told me that I was charging you far too little for rent. As far as I'm concerned, you've been taking advantage of me this whole time."

  I scoffed. "It's not my fault that you don't care enough to come over here. I don't own any buildings in other towns. If I did, I'd probably check on them every once in a while."

  "Well, you should be thankful I didn't because rent would have doubled long ago."

  He was speaking to me reasonably, but I blinked at him, holding back tears and feeling shaken.

  "I know this isn't the best time. But I do need to go upstairs and check out your apartment sometime while I'm here. It doesn't have to be today, but maybe tomorrow."

  I just stared. I blinked. I wanted desperately to say something spiteful, but I couldn't make myself do it. I wasn't even sure what I would say.

  "I-I'm not done down here," I said. "I thought we were meeting. But, I mean, yeah, it's your building, so you can go up whenever you want, obviously, but I thought we were still meeting to let me look at this space down here. I was going to take pictures."

  "Is this still a possibility for you?" he asked, looking hopeful, happy. "I figure your dad could co-sign."

  He knew my father had a successful career, and that was the truth, but I would never ask him to pay that amount—especially with my apartment rent going up. My mind was so busy doing math and thinking of all the possibilities, that I got lost in thought, staring blankly at this guy who had come in and wrecked my world.

  "My dad's not going to… I really thought that this whole thing was God, and… uhhhh, so, let's just… uhh… first of all, we need to figure out what you're asking for both places."

  "That's what this trip is all about," he said. He walked behind the jewelry counter. "I'll be here for a few more days, taking notes and making plans. I'll have a better idea about rent after I get some bids and give it a little thought."

  "So, I'm supposed to just wait on pins and needles, not knowing what the price is going to be?"

  "I can tell you it's going to be a lot more than it is now."

  "Can't you just… (I was grasping at straws.) … raise it slower? A hundred dollars a year, and then just year-by-year go up instead of all at once—"

  "A hundred dollars a year?" he said like that was the craziest thing he'd ever heard.

  "Not a hundred for the whole year, but a hundred a month more for the duration of the year. With the upstairs, maybe you could go up to four hundred for year, and then next year you could raise it to five? Slowly like that. Why can't you do that?"

  "I guess the answer is that I could, theoretically, do that. I just wish you could see where that really doesn't make sense on my end. If Stan can't make the six hundred for rent, someone else will. You asking me to take four hundred is basically asking me to give someone two hundred dollars a month."

  I was so mad and embarrassed that I had no response for him. "Mrs. Harper obviously didn't want it this way."

  "I guess you're right," he said with a shrug. "But she's not making these decisions anymore. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to charge one group of people half the rent just because they were paying that before. The rent goes up in places. That's just how life is." He paused and smiled at me. "I have a property in Nashville where I've raised the rent five times since I've owned it."

  "Well, that's not very nice of you."

  "Well it's not very nice of you to say that I should get less of something just because you're the one who's giving it to me. You're not telling all these other people on this block that they're charging too much for rent. You only care because it pertains to you."

  "I know everybody on this block, and they don't pay too much for rent," I said.

  It was a lie. I wasn't lying that I knew everyone on the block, but I had no idea how much they paid for their places. I was relatively sure people I knew owned their buildings and didn't rent.

  "Why don't you just sell it?" I asked. The question came out of my mouth as soon as the thought crossed my mind, and I'll honestly say it was a glorious moment for me.

  Of course!

  I would buy it.

  My parents would buy it.

  The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. "Just sell it to me. You don't want it, anyway."

  "I never said that," he said. He kept moving around, looking places, adjusting things.

  I walked with him, coming to stand a few feet from him as he moved. "You live out of state," I reminded him. "You don't want a building all the way over here in Texas. And, like you said… in your mind, this place was in shambles, anyway. You might as well just sell it to someone who wants it and loves it and would take care of it and live here for the rest of her life."

  He stuttered, opening his mouth closing it again, hesitating, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry, Miss, uh, Castro. I wasn't expecting to have this conversation with you. I have a lady who returns my business calls for me, and I don't think I realized that the person I was meeting this afternoon was also a tenant upstairs."

  "I told her I was," I said.

  "She mentioned that I'd be meeting a tenant, but I didn't realize that was today. I have a few other meetings."

  "Are you meeting with other people?" I asked.

  "Uh-huh," he said, still looking around, checking the place out.

  "Are you meeting other people who want to rent this place?" I asked, feeling desperate.

  "Not yet. Right now, I'm just talking to inspectors and appraisers. My father lectured me about not having all of that done two years ago. He wasn't even sure how it's possible that it was signed over to me without all of that happening. Maybe it was God helping you have low rent for this long. Maybe you should look at it that way."

  Trey kept walking around, looking. I knew I should relent. I knew I should just tell him to think about the new amount and let me know what it was. But I couldn’t hold my tongue.

  "I'd really like you to consider selling it," I said. I looked at him with a serious, pleading expression, and he tilted his head at me, smiling like he was slightly confused.

  "Why don't you get one of these other people to sell their building?" he said. "Why mine? I already told you, I like it here. I think it's a cool little city. I never said I wanted to sell this building."

  I held my shoulders back and my chin up and let out a little resigned sigh. "Well, keep me in mind, please. At least think about it. Think about selling."

  He gave me a regretful smile. "I'll tell you right now. I don't want you to be mad at me, but I also don't want you to get your hopes up. I don't plan on selling it." He glanced around looking up at the ornamental tile on the ceiling. "I like this place. Thanks for the offer, but I don't think it's for sale."

  I wanted to do something crazy like stomp my feet and throw a fit and say, "I want it more than yoooou!" But I just took a deep breath, keeping my composure, staring blankly at him.

  Chapter 4

  Trey Harper

  "Would you like to look around still?" Trey asked the question after a long awkward pause. He had just informed Tara that the building wasn't for sale. "I'd love to have you rent it," he added. "It'd be great as a dance and art studio, like you were saying. It's probably a lot less smelly than a burger joint, so I'd love to have you move in."

  "I would love to rent it," she said. "I just hope I can afford it." She took a breath, but then continued speaking. "And, yes, I'd love to take a look around." She turned and stared straight at him like she had an idea. "We can trade places, if you want."

  "What's that mean?" he asked.

&
nbsp; "You could go look around upstairs while I stay down here. I don't really care about being upstairs while you're in there, so if you want to look around, you might as well go now. I have a tape measure in my bag, so I'll just take a few measurements in case things end up working out."

  He made an expression like her offer took him by surprise. "I don't mind you looking around down here and measuring, but I don't need to go upstairs right this minute. I wasn't going to spring that on you. I'm going to call you and the other tenants later this afternoon and try to set something up for tomorrow."

  "It's all the same to me," she said.

  She had been wearing a smile when they first met, but she lost it. Trey knew she didn't like him very much. He might not like himself if he was in her situation, but to him, things were cut and dry.

  This was his inheritance.

  Sure, he had underestimated it at first, but that didn't mean he had to continue to lose money. It would be unwise of him to let the tenants stay there at this price when a higher price was clearly fair.

  "It's fine if you want to go upstairs," she said. "Now's as good a time as any. I'm busy tomorrow, anyway." She opened her notebook and spread it along with a few other things onto the counter.

  "I don’t want to intrude."

  "I really don't mind," she said. But she was lying. She did mind. She was just being friendly. Barely. If he was going to go in her apartment at all, she would rather get it over with.

  Trey watched as she reached out and handed him her keys. There were five or six of them on the ring, and she didn't specify which one would open her door. She was obviously leaving it to him to figure that out.

  "It's number 201," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  "Are you sure?" he asked. "Because I don't have to go now. I’m not in a hurry."

  "The faster you go up there, the faster you'll know what my rent is going to be, right?"

  "Y-yes."

  "So, I'm good with you going up there now. That way I can get my head straight about where I'm going to live and what I'm going to do."

  She was stone cold. All the hope and brightness and joy had left her face. It was like she finally realized that Trey was keeping the building and that he was serious about raising the rent. He thought about it as he walked out of the jewelry store and onto the sidewalk. He felt bad for the woman, but then he reminded himself that she was being completely unreasonable. First, she had been paying way too little for rent this whole time, and now, she was going to be mad when he told her he was going to do the fair thing and raise it. He huffed and puffed about it under his breath as he climbed the stairs.

  Three hundred dollars was nothing for this place. His great-grandmother probably hadn't raised the rent in decades. He hated to raise it so drastically, but good grief, what did these people expect? This had gone on far too long. He looked around when he got to the top of the stairs. The stairs, the rail, and the lower part of the walls were wood that had been stained dark mahogany. It could use some cleaning and basic maintenance, but the bones were great.

  He glanced at the doors for the other two apartments before he made it to Tara's. He had a key to each of the apartments on his own keyring—the one Joan Harper had left for him. But Trey went for Tara's keys instead. There were twelve different keys on his building set, and all of the keys were the same brand, but Tara's keys were all different so it was easy to find a match on hers based on the brand of his. Trey found the correct key on the first try.

  He opened the door, smiling at the sight of her apartment. Oh, gosh. Three hundred? No way. He hadn't expected this. It was eclectic and colorful with paintings and furniture that was all different colors. She had a picture in her notebook. He saw her idea for a ballet studio downstairs, and it was nothing like this apartment.

  This place was huge also. He looked around, marveling at how big it was. He knew it was the largest apartment of the three, but the ceilings were high, and it was more spacious than he imagined. Tara had it decorated beautifully.

  He stood in the living room, looking around for a long minute, and having a new appreciation for just how much this building was worth. He chastised himself inwardly for being so distracted and judgmental that he let this place slip through his fingers for two years. He assumed this building wasn't worthy of his time and intention, and he was so wrong. It was a humbling experience to stand there in an apartment that he himself would be happy to live in. He felt ashamed of himself for missing out on all the money that could have been made since he inherited the property. Trey was intelligent, and there was no excuse for something this big slipping past him.

  He felt humbled as he gazed around at her apartment. The ceilings had to be twelve feet high. She had gorgeous paintings on the wall. They were evening and sunset scenes in bright colors and jewel tones. They were professionally framed and looked like they belonged in the home of a collector.

  Trey walked over to the large window that was positioned on the far side of the living room. He meant to glance out of it, but he got caught staring and stayed there for several minutes. He found that it was quite relaxing, staring out at Bank Street from this perspective. He could see action in several places—as far down as the diner on one corner, and the other way, toward the office building on the adjacent block.

  Tara had personal pictures set up in frames on a shelf that was near the window. Trey wasn't meaning to snoop. In fact, he was trying not to snoop. But he couldn't help but take a glance at the photographs. They were a beautiful family, and they took interesting photographs. There were photos of them with art, dancing, and fighting. There were no standard family photographs where they posed in a studio. Trey thought that was interesting since that was the only thing on the shelf at his house. He had his own place in Nashville, and he only had one picture of his family on display. It was one his mother had given them, and it was a very posed picture.

  He loved his family. He had two siblings, a brother and a sister. Both of his siblings were married, and their spouses and children were also in the picture. It was nothing like this.

  There was a black and white photograph of Tara as a little girl, hugging her father who was bleeding and swollen, battle scarred after a fight. Trey didn't mean to continue looking at them. He kept telling himself to look away. But they were all so interesting. There were at least ten framed photographs, and the people in them were so full of life and originality. Trey wondered what sort of town this was and what sort of family he had found there.

  He glanced out of the window again, looking in the direction of the boxing gym. There was a small hand painted sign mounted above the door, hanging from the top where it could swing in the wind.

  Bank Street

  Boxing

  He watched someone walk in the door. It was a guy with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and Trey imagined that he was a boxer going to train. This whole place was just… interesting. Tara was interesting. She was a black-haired beauty. Black Beauty, just like the horse. Tara reminded Trey of a wild horse, like a mustang, tough and a little unpredictable.

  He gazed out the window and at her candid photographs, thinking this whole experience was the most unexpected thing he could have encountered in this building. He looked around, feeling happy and at home, and then somehow his thoughts turned around and he wound up thinking that if a person could afford to have such a nice apartment with such nice things, then she could certainly afford to pay more for rent.

  There were several antique pieces of furniture that went well with her other décor. The living room was huge, and it felt warm with all of her bright eclectic things meticulously placed around. He looked in the bathroom. It smelled like fruit—peaches, maybe. Or raspberries. Her place was clean with just the right amount of organized clutter that made it feel lived-in and warm. The bathroom was painted light purple with the wainscoting done in white. His eye fell onto her bottle of perfume, and he almost squinted to read the name, but he didn't let himself do it. He was here to see the
apartment.

  Trey snapped his attention to the shower where he noticed the curtain and faucet. His eyes roamed over the cabinetry and counter tops, taking in other things that had nothing to do with perfume. It was a two-bedroom place, and he went into bedroom number one. It was obviously the master because Tara's personal things were in there. Again, there were things lying around, and it was obvious that the place was lived in, but it was clean and inviting. There were other personal pictures in the bedroom, and Trey glanced at them, but he did it so quickly that he hardly got to take them in. He didn't think Tara had a husband or boyfriend. The guy that was in most of her pictures seemed to be her brother. It didn't matter. He barely took in the details of her bedroom before he walked out. It was nice in there, and it had two windows that looked over different streets since it was on the corner. The bed was huge and way too inviting, and Trey got out of there quickly and peeked into the second bedroom.

  There wasn't a bed in that one. There was a small desk against one wall with a boombox on the floor. But besides that, the entire floor was open. He knew Tara danced in that room because there was a huge mirror mounted to the wall and also one of those bars that you hold onto.

  This was not a three-hundred-dollar apartment. It bugged him that this place existed and he had no idea. It was his own fault. He should have never assumed things about his great-grandmother or been so passive about his inheritance.

  He had mistakenly relied on the maintenance guy. He was the only person who had been the go-between. Trey paid him every month to look after the building and tend to any of the tenant's needs. He had been Trey's only contact in Galveston. Trey thought about that maintenance guy and how he, himself, deserved more than Trey was paying him for basic duties on a building this size. Everything needed to go up, the rent and the paycheck for the maintenance guy. The expectations set for his building were too low. It was an old gem on a cool corner of the city.

  Trey went back into Tara's living room, hoping and praying that all of the apartments were this well-kept. He breathed in the smell, taking one last look around and feeling satisfied. He loved it there, and he regretted that it took him this long to find that out.