by Alice Ward
Jaz stiffened and pulled away, brushing at the tears on her face. “I know how to cook.”
I tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Yes, I know you do. I didn’t mean to say that you don’t. Accidents happen.” Pushing to my feet, I reached out to help her up.
She smacked my hand away, her face turning a familiar shade of petulance. “I can get up by myself.”
She was right. And I was handling this entire situation wrong.
I knew better than to hover, but here I was, hovering like a bee over a delicate flower. Forcing myself to step away, I headed over to one feature in the apartment I really loved. The floor-to-ceiling windows. Shoving them all up so that the smoke could escape, I hoped some of the terrible burned plastic smell would go with it. The sirens were loud now, and as I shoved the last window up, I watched a fire truck come to a halt below me.
I manhandled the screen up and stuck my head out, waving. “It’s okay,” I shouted to the first fireman who appeared. “The fire is out.”
He gave me a little salute but headed into the building anyway. Seconds later, boots clunked up the steps. I went to the door to greet him after placing a fan by the kitchen window, hoping to force some of the smoke outside.
I often tried to imagine what my father had looked like, and if I could have picked one out of the universe of men, I would have wanted him to look like this man who stepped through my open door geared up to face what others wouldn’t. Tall, dark, and handsome, yes. But more importantly, my dad would have a smile on his face and a competence to his step. He’d be like this man, able to handle whatever came his way. Although from learning about my mother and the type of woman she became, I doubted she would have screwed around with anyone as noble as a fireman. In reality, my biological sperm donor was probably dead or rotting away in prison.
“What’s the problem?”
I directed him to the kitchen so he could see for himself. The fire was indeed out, but now I could see the damage that was done. The microwave was completely destroyed and there was a tiny bit of fire damage to the cabinet over it. The ceiling was singed a little yellow, but overall, it could have been much worse.
Charlie puffed his chest out when confronted by the much more handsome man, still holding the now empty fire extinguisher. “I took care of it. Easy peasy.”
The fireman turned to me. “What were you cook—”
“Holy hell and damnation. What’s going on in here?”
I groaned. Charles Sr., Charlie’s father, was standing in my door. “It’s under control,” I told him, raising my chin to keep from shrinking away from the hatred that emanated from the man.
The building supervisor’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Control? This doesn’t look like control to me!”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Jaz step from the closet. The tears had been replaced with a stubborn expression I knew too well. Jazzy hated Charles. She didn’t like Charlie too much either, but the elder Gains, with his harsh looks and words, was on my sister’s shit list… well, he was the only name on her shit list. Jazzy got along amazingly well with everyone else.
“Who did this?” Charles demanded, his face a dark, mottled red.
The fireman stepped in, holding a blackened lump of something I couldn’t recognize in one thick glove, a familiar label in the other. “It appears to be a container of macaroni and cheese. Most likely, someone forgot to add the water. You’d be amazed at how often this happens.”
I smiled my thanks at the kind man, but Charles wasn’t ready to forgive so easily. “Water? Who in the hell would forget to add water?” He whirled around, spotting Jasmine. “Except the mongoloid.”
Fury ignited in my chest, fueled by the enormous love I had for my sister. “Don’t you dare call her that!” I stepped closer to him, my finger in his old, hairy face. “Ever.”
He took one step back, then held his ground, his finger coming up to meet mine. “Your damn sister is a nuisance, I tell you. Dangerous too. Bout damn near burned down the entire place, nearly killed us all.” His eyes narrowed. “If she can’t follow the rules, then you’re both out of here. I could rent this place for twice what yer paying, and I wouldn’t have to worry about some retard destroying everything I—”
Smack!
Fire shot through my hand and up my arm, the sensation hitting my brain before I was even aware of what I’d done. I’d just slapped another living creature. Committed an act of physical violence. Even if my palm wasn’t burning, the spreading stain on his cheek was proof.
I’d never hit anyone in my life, and this was a terrible time to break that trend. This was my landlord. The same greedy landlord who had been looking to get me and Jasmine off the “government rent controlled gravy train,” as he’d called it since Mee-maw died.
“She hit me!” he roared, clutching at his face. “I’m calling the police. You and the retard are out of here.”
The fireman stepped in, sliding me a look. “I didn’t see anything. What I witnessed was you verbally abusing this young lady and her sister. I’ll be adding that to my report of this incident.”
Charles Sr. sputtered, his face turning an even more mottled purple. Would I be forced to give the bastard mouth-to-mouth if he had a stroke or the withered organ in his chest finally decided to quit beating? “The mongoloid belongs in a home. Not a nice place like—”
“I’m not a mongoloid!” Jazzy yelled, as mad as I’d ever seen her. “I’m just chromosomally challenged, which is better than being an asshole any day!”
The fireman laughed, covering it with a cough behind his hand, and love flooded through me as I looked at my sister. The tears that had been taunting me all day pricked my eyes again as I gazed into her moon-shaped face. She came closer, and I linked my fingers through hers.
She was wearing makeup, a pale shade of blue eyeshadow that almost matched the color of her almond-shaped eyes. A shimmering pink gloss covered her lips and also gave a glow to her cheeks. She had started playing with makeup over the past year, ever since she met Jesse Bowman, a fellow Down Syndrome friend at her new school.
She also paid more attention to her clothes, getting a little too risqué to her big sister’s overprotective eye. But she was eighteen now. Officially an adult. And while some people in society might’ve seen her as a burden, as slow, as challenged, I only saw her as the funny sister whose heart was bigger than most.
The sister I loved with every piece of me.
The sister I’d spent the past eighteen years with… in this apartment.
Our home.
The place the horrible Charles Gains was trying to make us leave.
My hands began to shake, and this time, it was Jasmine who comforted me. She squeezed my fingers. “My sister doesn’t hurt people,” she said, her voice tender and sweet but also protective and strong. “She helps people.”
Charles Sr. whirled around to look at his son, who was still holding the fire extinguisher, his eyes huge in his scruffy face. “You tell ‘em what you saw, boy.”
Charlie stared at him, then looked at me, clearly torn by his loyalty to his father and his desire to get on my good side, and hopefully in my pants. “I might have heard a smacking sound, but I wasn’t looking, so I can’t be sure.”
Charles cursed and took another step toward me. “You’re paying for the damage. The microwave, the cabinets, the ceiling, the countertop. I’ll get an estimate by noon tomorrow. And don’t forget that rent is due on Friday.”
Forget?
How could I ever forget?
Rent was like a weight I carried on my back every day. I schooled my face into the most neutral expression I could manage. “You’ll be paid.”
The finger was back in my face. “And I’ve been doing my research. You might be rent controlled, and you might…” he snarled a look in Jazzy’s direction, “have that stupid disabilities law protecting the retard, but—”
“Enough!”
I jumped as the new voice barked i
nto the room. Beside me, Jazzy jumped too. Charles Sr. whirled to face the newcomer at the door and immediately began to sputter, his face growing pale. “M-m-m… Mr. Sommerfield, sir. I d-d-didn’t know you were c-coming t-today.”
It was like a storm, a great mountainous storm entering my apartment, so violently savage was the man’s face as he walked farther inside. My breath caught in my chest and the hair rose on my arms. I didn’t know who this was, but he was intimidating, almost dangerous… and so very, very attractive.
“I expect that’s true, that you didn’t know I’d be here, Mr. Gains,” the man said, his voice low, dangerously so. “Just as I didn’t expect anyone under my employ would treat my tenants with such blatant and highly inappropriate disrespect.”
The elder Gains lifted one hand to place a palm on his still reddened cheek, and with the other hand, pointed at me. “She hit me.”
Dark eyes met mine and the entire universe changed course. Everything about this big, intimidating man seemed to soften. His eyes. His lips. The hands that had been in tight fists at his sides. They all softened as he gazed down at me, took another step closer. The whisper of what was probably the finest Italian silk was the only sound of his movement.
I was frozen… but only on the outside. On the inside, my heart and lungs had picked up speed, my entire core fluttering. I opened my mouth, wanting to defend myself, my sister.
Jazzy did it for me. “He’s a bad man,” she said, tightening her arm on mine.
The man — Mr. Sommerfield, my building’s owner, apparently — blinked and turned his focus off me and onto Jaz. He smiled, and the universe changed course yet again. The smile was gentle, barely curving his lips, but it caused his eyes to soften further, now resembling melted chocolate with ripples of caramel swirling close to the black pupils. “Yes, I heard. And I’m sorry for that.”
Charles Sr. cleared his throat, his face going back to mottled red. “Section 27-2009 of the housing code clearly states that a tenant can be evicted...” he looked pointedly at Jasmine, “no matter the head smarts, if there is willful or grossly negligent conduct and causes substantial damage to the dwelling units, or if that behavior interferes with the comfort and safety of another person.” His hateful eyes narrowed into slits. “And this one, Mr. Sommerfield, should be in an institution, not out here endangering normal folk like—”
“Enough.” The word was a growl, and it caused my insides to tighten. Not in fear. But with something else. Something unfamiliar and primal. Something I’d never felt before. And was totally inappropriate.
The older man stomped his foot. “But, Mr.—”
The mask of contained fury on my building owner’s face caused a shiver to whisper its way up my spine. “You’re fired, Mr. Gains.”
I gasped. Jazzy cheered. The fireman chuckled, and Charlie Jr.’s hand smacked over his own mouth. Charles Sr. just turned redder. “You can’t do—”
“As a tenant-at-will, I’m unfortunately required to give you thirty days’ notice before your eviction. You’ll receive written notice from my attorney today. You will return all building keys and belongings immediately, and you hold no management role in tenant affairs from this moment on. Is that clear?”
I shivered. I would never want to be on the bad side of this man. Yet at the same time, I felt protected. Not that I needed protection. I could do that just fine myself.
Charles Sr.’s jaw worked, the muscle popping in and out as he glared at his boss. Former boss. “This is just a mistake. A misunderstanding.”
“What about me, Mr. Sommerfield?” Charlie Jr. piped in, the fire extinguisher still in his hands. “I didn’t do nothing wrong. I put out the fire and everything. I work hard around here.”
Mr. Sommerfield’s head canted to one side, and his eyes moved as if he was reading the lines of a spreadsheet. “Are you on my payroll?”
“N-no, but I help out. I do most of the work, anyway. I could take over for Paw and—”
Sommerfield lifted a hand, silencing the stammering man. “You have the right to apply for the open position when it posts tomorrow, and your work experience and credentials as well as a background check will be carefully evaluated as any applicant’s would be.”
Charlie visibly deflated at the words “background check,” the fire extinguisher dropping to his side. “Um, okay.” He looked at me imploringly, clearly hoping I’d be his champion. Fat chance of that.
“I’m calling my lawyer,” Charles Sr. railed, some of the life coming back into him by reddening degrees. He really did look on the verge of a heart attack. Stroke. Something deadly.
Mr. Sommerfield pulled a small card from the pocket inside his suit jacket. “Have your attorney connect with mine. In the meantime, you will leave this apartment and go about the business of relinquishing your role as building supervisor.” When no one moved, Sommerfield growled, deadly and deep, “Now.”
I gave myself a mental shake, and on adrenaline fatigued legs, walked toward the door, pushing it fully open. Jazzy came up beside me and waved her arms in a “the exit’s this way” gesture that almost made me smile. Almost.
Charles Sr. reacted first, turning on his heel and stomping past me, muttering things I was glad I couldn’t hear under his breath.
The fireman was next, carrying the ruined microwave in his arms. “I can dispose of this for you.”
I gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you for your help. It’s very much appreciated.”
He nodded. “Sorry you needed it. Don’t let them stiff you on the expenses. Damage isn’t bad. Couple hundred at most.” His radio squawked, and he nodded again. “Gotta go. Good luck to both of you.”
His clomping boots on the stairs were still echoing in the apartment by the time Charlie set down the fire extinguisher and headed toward the door. “When I’m in charge, I can take real good care of you, you know,” he said in a low voice. “Just like I did today.” When he licked those fat lips again, it took everything inside me not to cringe. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sommerfield taking a step in our direction.
“Thank you, Charlie, for your help today, but I think we’ll be all right.”
He reached out and stroked my arm. I stiffened. Beside me, Jasmine stiffened too. “Let me help you, Journey. I’ll take care of you. Real good care of you.”
Jazzy kicked him in the shin. “Leave my sister alone!”
I grabbed her arm, linking hers through mine. “Jazzy… please. I can take care of this myself.”
She apparently didn’t kick the man hard enough to hurt with the soft ballerina flats she favored, but he was furious nonetheless. For a second, I saw his father in his eyes. He was better at hiding his base nature, but there was something scary… almost evil, malevolent… lingering behind his façade.
“Get out.” The sharp bark of sound was like a bullet in the room. The hair stood up on my arms as Mr. Sommerfield moved closer to me and Jaz.
Beside me, my sister reared back her leg to kick him again, but Charlie let me go and moved through the door, tossing a furious look over his shoulder at me.
“The keys!” I shouted, unable to stand the thought of him being able to enter my apartment after this. Charlie stopped and turned, his face glacial, and worse, a bit of madness peaking from his eyes.
Mr. Sommerfield stepped in front of us and held out his hand. “Why are you carrying the keys?”
The color drained from Charlie’s face. “I-I—”
“Is this a duplicate set? Is there a second?”
He still couldn’t speak so I answered for him. “Yes. I’ve seen them both with a key ring. One with a blue tag. The second with red.”
Rage worked its way up Charlie’s face again, beginning with the tight pop of his jawline, working up to his lips, his flared nostrils, and finally, his eyes.
Mr. Sommerfield extended his hand farther. “Now. I’ll take your set now and your father’s set on my way out. Don’t make me ask again.”
With slow movement, Charlie r
eached into his pocket. The jingle of the keys were the only sound. With equal slowness, he dropped them into Grant’s hand. He stepped to the side and cast another look at me before turning and tromping down the stairs, each footstep nearly vibrating the entire building.
I exhaled deeply and leaned back heavily against the wood of the door.
“He’s a bad man.”
I looked over at Jaz, saw the worry on her face. Mr. Sommerfield turned to face us and addressed Jasmine, “Do you think he’s as bad as his father?”
Jaz shook her head, looking nearly straight up at the tall man who towered a good foot and a half over her short frame. There was a world of wisdom in her almond-shaped eyes. “No. He’s worst.”
“Why’s that?” Sommerfield asked.
Jaz looked at me, nodded once like she was answering some internal question as well as the one posed directly to her. “Because he pretends to be good.”
I shivered. She was right.
“Then I won’t be taking him up on his offer to take his father’s vacated position.”
Jaz crossed her arms over her chest, a look of satisfaction on her face. “Good.”
The alarm on my phone went off, making me jump. Damn. I was nervous. Which wasn’t exactly shocking considering all that had taken place in the past five minutes. I pulled my phone from my pocket and silenced the reminder that I had a yoga class to teach in an hour.
“Thank you, Mr. Sommerf—”
“Grant.” He stretched out a hand. “Please call me Grant.”
The second my palm touched his, I felt my entire body grow warm, while something deep and carefully hidden inside me stirred to life. Desire.
It surprised me so much, I yanked my hand away, scrubbing my palm against the leg of my pants. “Grant. I’m Journey. Journey Walker. Thank you for your help. Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been scripted into a movie.”
The soft smile that changed his face so much reappeared, but this time it was wide enough to partially show a set of white teeth. There was a small chip on the left front tooth, giving him a little boy air that was incongruous to the rest of him. A thin white scar zigzagged from the left side of his mouth, only to be hidden behind a trimmed beard, and I wondered if it covered more scars behind its thick growth.
