"You tried to move out?" he asked.
"I wouldn't say I tried, not just yet, but I'm looking for another place, sure. I went to a few apartments, just to see what my price range could get me."
"You didn't tell me you were looking at other places," he said.
I smiled. "Would it matter?" I asked. "You had to know I'm thinking about that. I mean, look at Stan. He's here today and gone tomorrow."
"I told you I'd work with you."
"Why would you do that for me and not him?" I asked.
He stared at me with an unreadable expression. "I don't know. Because I like you more than I like him. Because I feel like it. I’m not sure. Does it matter?"
"No," I said. There was a long pause, and I stared at Trey. I needed to have some concrete information. I was tired of everything being up in the air. "In three months, when my lease is up, I'd like to sign another one. One more year of living here. Please. I'll pay fifty dollars a month more than I'm paying now. It's not a lot, but I can't go higher than that. I could do some work around here if it'll help you. That will give me one more year to figure things out with trying to start a business. I feel like I'll know more about where my life is going by then. Or maybe I won't, but three months is going to be here before I know it, and I hate to leave that soon. I can move back in with my parents if it comes to that, but if you could find it in your heart to agree to one more—"
"Sure," Trey said.
I paused.
"Sure?"
"Yes."
"You agree to what I just said?" I asked, whispering.
My door was open, and I didn't want my neighbors to hear since I was certain this deal didn't apply to everyone.
"I'll let you sign another year," he said, nodding.
"With only raising the rent fifty dollars?" I whispered, wide-eyed.
"Yes," he said, whispering back in an exaggerated tone. Was he teasing me? For a moment, things were light and easy, and I felt like he was my friend. I was happy. It felt like an actual weight had been lifted off my shoulders with the news of a new lease.
It felt so good to know I had a plan for another year. I reached in and gave him a tight hug, and then I stuck my arm out stiffly, staring at him and waiting for a handshake.
Trey grinned at me, but he reached out and shook my hand. I wanted to hug him again. I wanted to ask him to dinner since he had mentioned trying to find a restaurant. It was one of those times when I wanted to go overboard and try to be best buddies with him, but I had to stop myself. I just bowed humbly. "Thank you so much," I said. "Really. If you need me to do anything for you, you know, as far as the building, just ask. I'm here all the time, and I'd be happy to keep an eye on the place for you."
"Thank you," he said.
***
"Could it really be that easy?" I asked my mom the following day. It was Sunday, and I was eating lunch at my parents' house after church.
"Could what be that easy?" Mom asked.
My brother walked up beside her and she held out a bite of the chicken that she was deboning.
"For the last month, I've seen this guy as my enemy. I was bummed out about moving, and I just saw him as the guy who was kicking me out. I had crazy thoughts about him that I would never act on—stuff like maybe I should vandalize the place so that he thinks bad of it and wants to sell it."
My mother scowled at me. "Tara Grace!"
"I'd never do it, Mom. I'm just saying… I thought of him as the enemy, and now that's all changed. He says he's not doubling my rent, and suddenly I want to sweep the staircase and take him to dinner."
"Take him to dinner?" Will said, playing the role of the concerned male since my father was outside.
"Not like that, Will. I'm just saying. It's amazing how one conversation can make you go from someone's enemy to someone's friend.
"God told me something about enemies years ago," my mom said. "One place in the Bible, it says that love keeps no record of wrong and then in another place in the Bible it says to love your enemy. And then one day, I just had this thought. Okay, let me see if I can say it right… A record of wrong is all I have on my enemies, right? They're only enemies because of the record of wrong that I keep. So, if I get rid of that record of wrongs, like the Bible tells me to, then they're not enemies anymore. If it tells me to love my enemy and then tells me love keeps no record of wrong, then that means I have no enemies."
There were a few seconds of silence.
"That's deep, Mom," Will said.
"It is deep," she said, nodding at him. She looked at me. "It's a little different in your case. This guy gave you a gift, and so forgiving him was made easy."
"But theoretically, I shouldn't have been mad at him in the first place. Is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah, I'm not saying that there won't be conflict in your life or that you need to let people walk all over you, but there's something to be said for not making enemies, even in your own mind. There's something to be said for forgiving people and moving on with your thoughts."
"Well, thankfully Trey did make it easy for me, like you said. He's being really kind about it. I can't believe all I had to do was ask."
"What's he going to do with Stan's old apartment?" Mom asked. "I might know somebody who's interested. My hairdresser's sister is going through a divorce."
I shook my head and shrugged. "I'll ask him when he thinks it'll be ready."
Chapter 7
The door to apartment 202 was open when I came home later that afternoon. I peeked inside, wondering if I could see any changes or construction. Trey was all the way across the room, so I just smiled at him and kept walking. I was in the process of unlocking my door when I heard footsteps approaching.
"Oh, hi," I said when I turned and saw Trey in the hall. He had on jeans and an old t-shirt. I could see why Jesse had reacted to him on that first day. He was such a nice-looking guy. I had been so worried about my fate that I hadn't noticed. Now that I didn't see Trey as a threat, I could finally see him objectively. I glanced downward when I had the thought. I instinctually adjusted my hair and then reached back and put my hand on the door handle, but didn't open it.
"I wanted to let you know that my mom might know someone who wants to rent 202 from you when you're ready. She was asking me about it." I was holding a bowl of food so I gestured to the apartment behind him with a flick of my chin.
I saw him look at my bowl.
"It's chicken," I said. "It's leftovers from my mom's house from lunch today. My dad barbecued chicken, and we… this is just a bunch of pulled chicken, you know for sandwiches or whatever. I might make chicken salad with it tomorrow, once I'm tired of eating it like this." I had no idea why I was over-sharing. Maybe I was nervous around him now because I felt indebted about the rent. "I have plenty if you want some," I added, to my own disbelief. The offer just came out of my mouth before I could have second thoughts about it.
"I'm actually starving," he said, touching his stomach. "I ate a big breakfast this morning, and I ended up skipping lunch."
"Oh, you want some of this?"
I must have sounded surprised because he said, "Weren't you offering?"
"Yes, I was, but I didn't think you'd say 'yes'."
He laughed at that.
"I didn't think you'd want leftovers. But you can have some." And then I remembered how much of a discount he was giving me on the rent and I stuck out my hand, balancing the bowl in the air between us. "You can have it all, actually." It was heavy, and it teetered, so I took my other hand off of the doorknob to support it, still holding it out for him to take.
He just stared at it. "I'm not going to take all of your food."
"Oh, really, it's fine," I said, holding it out, insisting.
He took it from me reluctantly. "This is heavy," he said. "What's in here? Just chicken?"
"Yeah, it's a bunch of pulled chicken. Barbecue."
"There must be at least a whole chicken in here."
"Oh, at least.
My dad grilled six of them, and some sausages, too. We all eat it for leftovers."
"Well, I don't want you to give me the whole thing. Can I just make a sandwich out of it and give you the rest?"
"Sure," I said taking it back and realizing it was probably kind of weird of me to give him that much chicken. "I just wanted you to do what you wanted. You know, like if you wanted it for leftovers tomorrow or whatever. I didn't know how long you were staying in Galveston."
"A few more days," he said.
"Are you going to rent it out after that? The apartment? Because my mom knows someone who might be looking." I motioned for him to follow me, and we went inside. "I can put a little of this in a bowl for you to make your own sandwich, or I can make you one here. All I have is wheat bread. I might have some pita bread, too."
I glanced over my shoulder at him, and he smiled. "All I have is no bread. I'll take either of those you mentioned. I was about to go out for dinner, but I'd just as soon stay here. I'm up to my ears exploring this building."
Trey followed me into my kitchen. He leaned against the cabinet while I went to work putting a few things away and making him a barbecue chicken sandwich.
I loved food, and I did for him what I would have done for myself (except double the portion). I made him a chicken sandwich with just the right proportion of meat to bread. I heated it evenly and carefully cut it in half. I added a handful of regular potato chips and a pickle spear from the fridge. I did all of this while we continued our conversation.
"Nobody's working today, since it's Sunday, so it's been quiet around here. I have a few people coming to give estimates tomorrow and the next day. And I'm going to tour that place on Market Street."
"Where on Market Street is it?" I asked.
"It's near 25th. It's the pink building next to the Italian restaurant."
"You're kidding. That's a cool building. The candle store?"
"I think that's what was down there. But they're moving."
"I pass that building all the time." I imagined the candle store, and tried to think about if it would be large enough for a studio. That candle store was quite a bit smaller than the jewelry store, but I thought maybe I could make it work for a studio if the rent was a lot cheaper. "I didn't even know it was for sale," I said.
"It's not on the market yet. Justin knows about it from another one of his clients. He's the one who told me about it."
"That might not be a bad spot for me," I said. "Depending on how big it is." I slid the plate in front of Trey, and he thanked me.
"You're welcome. I hope you like it. You can sit here or take it back with you. Either way, I'm gonna go put my things away."
"I'll stay here and eat if you don't mind," he said.
"Okay, I'll come back in just a second, then."
I started to take off, but I thought of getting him a glass of water since he was staying. Quickly, I took a glass from the cabinet, filled with water, and set it in front of Trey.
I smiled at him as I walked out of the kitchen. He thanked me again, and I went into my room, feeling like I was vulnerable to his gaze. I assumed he was looking at me from behind, and for some reason, I cared. I didn't know how to feel about my reaction to Trey. I hadn't expected to offer him a plate of food or for him to accept it and sit there and eat in my kitchen.
I thought about what my mom said about enemies. I remembered her saying it was easy for me to like Trey since he had done me a favor. I felt like I wanted to impress him now, and I figured I was only acting that way because he had helped me out. I tried to make myself feel guilty for wanting to make myself look presentable, but I still went to do it.
I left Trey in the kitchen to eat by himself while I went into my bedroom. I regarded my reflection in the mirror. I had on a skirt from this morning, and my dark hair was styled in an easy up style similar to a French twist. I was comfortable, but I took my hair down and changed into a pair of overall shorts with a t-shirt.
I turned upside down and shook my hair out, causing it to fall in a tangled mass of black waves over my shoulders. I ran my fingers through it, strategically taming it down. I thought about powdering my nose, or spraying some perfume, but I thought that would be too much. I reminded myself that he had already agreed on the contract, and even shook on it.
I did not need to impress this man. I repeated that to myself, even as I tucked and straightened and checked myself. I went back into the kitchen only a few minutes after I went into my bedroom.
"That was fast," he said, glancing at me when he heard me coming. "You changed and everything."
I smiled at him. He was just about done with his whole plate of food. "I was ready to get comfortable," I said. "I'm glad you liked your sandwich."
"I loved it," he said. "It was really good. Thank you for making me that."
"You're welcome," I said. "The same thing is on the menu tomorrow. Maybe I'll add eggs and mayonnaise and make a chicken salad… if you're not sick of chicken by then."
"I won't be," he said. "I'd love some more of this."
I had been mostly joking—making fun of myself for eating leftovers for days. But he seemed to be taking it as a serious offer.
"Some more right now, or some other time?"
"No, I'm good right now."
"I have plenty if you seriously want more of it," I said. "I could give you some in a bowl to take with you right now, or I'll make you another sandwich whenever you're ready."
"I'll take another one at ten o'clock tonight," he said.
"Really?"
He grinned. "No. I would never ask you to do that. I do eat snacks at that time of night. I'm sure I'll be pouring a bowl of cereal or something. I went to the store yesterday and got a few groceries and a microwave."
"Oh, for this apartment?" I asked, gesturing behind him.
"Yeah. It was cheaper for me to get a few supplies for this place than it was to get a hotel. And I'd rather be here to see what I want to do with the building."
"Where are you going to sleep? Is there a bed in there?"
"Back in the day, these apartments were rented furnished," he said. "Apparently Stan's bedframe was left over from that, because he left a note saying it wasn't his. All I had to do was buy a box spring and mattress. It's just a little twin… my feet basically hang off the end." He laughed and then added, "Even with that, and the rest of the stuff I bought, it was cheaper than a hotel would have been."
"I could always stay with my parents if you want to stay in my place for a few nights," I offered.
Trey turned to me quickly and regarded me with a curious stare as if he didn't know how to take my offer.
I shrugged. "It is your building. I just feel like I owe you with what a good deal you're giving me on the rent."
"I'm raising your rent by fifty dollars," he said.
"When you could be doing it by a lot more."
"You don't need to thank me," he said. "This whole building is a gift. I'm still finding new things about it. It's amazing. I don't know what kind of man my great-grandfather was, but this building is crazy.
"Was it your great-grandfather who built it?"
"No. But I think he made a bunch of changes to it. I'm trying to put the pieces together. I have very little information on him. Something happened between my grandfather and his parents that made him not talk about it. They had money and they were crazy, that's all I knew. My grandfather and my dad and his siblings, they all got nothing from the will when Joan died. But me and my siblings and all ten of my cousins got money. They got just over a hundred grand each. I got the building, and I assumed, based on my family's attitude, that I got the short end of the stick. For the last two years, I've been thinking I was lucky to have renters at all. More than once, I wished she would have given me the money like she did with my cousins."
"But now you like it here?" I asked.
He nodded dazedly. "It's hand's down the coolest thing I've ever been given," he said. "Todd and Justin… they've been digging f
or me, trying to find out all they can. As far as I could tell, my great-grandfather, Frank, and Joan opened a book store in the early forties and ran it for a little over a decade until he died, and that's when the jeweler moved in. Joan stayed single in the upstairs apartment. No one even knew they had kids or grandkids. That's all of the story that Justin knew."
"You might not ever know any more than that," I said. "My dad had a bunch of stuff happen with his parents. My mom said some of it's so bad they'll probably never tell me about it. She said that some things are just better left unsaid."
"Is your dad good to you in spite of that stuff?" he asked.
"Of course. He's amazing. He's the kindest, most protective father. He's been nothing but a champion for me my whole life—and he has plenty of family issues—past stuff. Things happen to people sometimes. People carry baggage we don't even know about."
Chapter 8
I spent the next few hours with Trey.
After he ate his chicken sandwich, he asked if I wanted to go to the beach. I agreed to go, and we went out walking on the seawall until the sun began to go down. He was smart and funny, and we shared effortless conversation. It was easy liking him now that the landlord-tenant thing was out of the equation. There was no strain.
I had fun talking to Trey. I played tour guide, showing him a few of the good spots that only locals knew about. I intentionally led us to his truck as the sun began getting lower in the sky.
Trey was driving, but I told him where to go.
I took him on a long loop to get back to the apartment, showing him a few of my favorite restaurants and stores on our way back. Finally, we made our way home. He parked on Bank Street, in front of the hardware store, only a few feet from the door to the apartment.
Neither of us hesitated, and we walked up the stairs, having casual conversation like we had done all afternoon.
Secret Rooms and Stolen Kisses: A Romance (Bank Street Stories Book 4) Page 5
