by Amy Starling
Elle started acting weird the very next day. She barely talked to me, and when we did speak, it was like she was walking on eggshells.
“They need the light fixture replaced in 411,” she'd told me. “And the guy who just moved into 228 says the place is infested with bedbugs.”
She was back to her usual self. All business, no fun. I didn't understand it.
Before now, I wouldn't have given a shit. Sex was for pleasure, not for worrying about. And I wouldn't have worried this time, either.
Except something funny happened that night. I didn't know what it was or why I felt this way. But sleeping with Elle was different.
“Family photos!” The woman howled. “You can't replace those with the insurance money, Harry.”
“But dear, it was only the kitchen. Your frying pan caught fire. The photos are probably fine...”
The woman's shirt fell open. I only stared at her cleavage for a split second before losing interest.
Something was seriously the matter with me.
“Hey, jackass.”
Brett, fellow firefighter and usually good friend, shoved me from behind. The heavy hose slipped and I drenched myself with it.
“What's wrong with you, man? Your head's not in the game lately. You're gonna screw up. Get somebody killed.”
I scoffed and resisted temptation to spray him in the face. “I'm perfectly fine. Better than fine, actually.”
He grinned. “Got some last night, huh?”
“You know it.”
Actually, I hadn't gotten in any in two weeks – since that night with Elle.
Oh, I had chances. Girls flirting with me at the store, in the parking lot, everywhere I went. I flirted back, but I didn't take their number or even try.
I didn't want to screw some random stranger. The only woman I wanted back in my bed was her.
If only I could figure out what was wrong with her. Shit, women were so complicated. Lucky for Elle, she was worth waiting for.
Still, it was pretty rough going with only my hand to keep me company.
“Max's birthday's in a couple of days. You going to the party?”
“He having it at Twinkles again?”
Brett winked. “It's gonna be a blast, man. Cheap beer, topless chicks everywhere, lap dances all night long.”
I remembered well. Last year, I got totally smashed, had two lovely ladies grinding in my lap, and pretty much got 'em into bed without having to try.
I could have done the same thing this year, except...
“We're all throwing in some cash for Max's stripper,” Brett went on. “You got fifty bucks?”
Before I could answer, the couple's screaming escalated to a fever pitch. The man stalked off to call the insurance company. The woman approached me from behind. She didn't even try to hide her rack falling out of her shirt.
“I'm so glad you came. Why, if it weren't for you, our entire house would have burned to the ground.”
I forced a smile as Brett turned off the hose. “That's my job, ma'am.”
She giggled and pushed my shoulder. “You know, I've always had a thing for big, strong firemen. If there's anything I can do to repay you...”
I couldn't believe this lady was hitting on me in front of her husband. She was kind of cute, but I never messed with married women. Too much trouble.
Plus, there was Elle to consider.
“Just try and get some rest. You must have had a very rough night.”
She frowned, covered up her breasts, and shuffled off to yell at her husband some more.
“Dude, what's the matter with you?”
Brett had heard it all. He clearly wasn't impressed that I'd turned the woman down. Not surprising, given he was an even bigger horn dog than me.
“I'm on the job. Not here to pick up girls.”
He stumbled under the weight of the hose. “You being on the job never mattered before. Hey, remember that girl you carried out of that office building? We sure had some fun with her, huh?”
I sighed. Threesomes used to excite me. What guy wouldn't get excited to have a couple of hot girls all to himself?
Suddenly, the idea bored me. Those chicks were all style and no substance. Fun for a quick lay, but good for little else.
They weren't anything like Elle. When I fucked her that night, I swore it was the best I'd ever had. Couldn't put my finger on why, exactly, but I felt something looking into her eyes.
That moment I exploded inside of her. The way she gazed at me with such hot intensity, like she was so eager to take my come... It was more than physical. There was real meaning behind it.
And it scared me shitless.
“This is why I say fighting fires is the best job there is.” Brett gestured to the woman. Her butt jiggled as she chased after her poor spouse. “There ain't a girl out there who doesn't want a piece of us. You, especially, ya lucky bastard. Ladies throwing themselves at you wherever you go.”
I climbed into the truck as Brett hopped in the driver's seat.
“It's a serious perk, all right.”
“With all these easy chicks around, you never even need to settle down. Marriage is for fools.” He pointed out the window at the still-fighting couple. “Look what happens when you shack up with some bitchy woman. All the fun, all the sex, goes out the window.”
I had to concede to his point. Nothing I'd ever seen about marriage was good in the least. My own mother threw away every paycheck on clothes and drugs, and eventually ran off on dad with a co-worker. Dad probably deserved it, though. He was always a cold-hearted bastard, never affectionate to her or his son.
I was pretty sure he'd never hugged me, not once. Probably why I had this ungodly fear of getting close to someone. I had no idea what real love was like. Looking around me, I doubted that it even existed sometimes.
Brett lit a cigarette as he tore down the main street. We weren't on an emergency call, but he blared the sirens anyway so cars would yield to us.
“Maybe you're just cynical,” I said. “You ever been in love?”
He laughed and waved a cloud of smoke out the window. “Hell no. I'm like you, man. The second some girl starts leaving her toothbrush on my bathroom counter, I'm done with her.”
No, he wasn't like me. I'd never even given a woman the chance to think we had anything serious. One and done, that was me. Was just easier that way.
I always made it clear to them – don't expect anything beyond one night.
Elle was the first woman I wanted a second time. And then a third, and more after that...
Hey, maybe a fling would be good for me. We could be friends with benefits, at least until I found this imaginary girl I had to marry so Shady Acres would be saved.
I only hoped Elle had enough sense to know that still, no matter what, it was just sex. Nothing more. That was all it ever could be.
Brett dropped his phone under the brake pedal. He cursed and nearly ran a red light crouching down to get it.
The guy was one of my best buddies; had known him since elementary school. Heather always called him a bad influence, and she was right. Regardless, he gave pretty decent advice.
“Dude, I've got to tell you something.”
Brett chuckled. “Let me guess. You're gay? Born a woman? Got an illegitimate child you just found out about?”
I shuddered. “Don't even mention kids. Babies scare me.”
“Sissy. Kids are cool. They play video games and football with you.”
“Yeah, I guess bigger kids are all right. But infants are terrifying. The dirty diapers, the crying, projectile vomiting...”
He grinned. “Finally, something you're afraid of – a newborn baby.”
“Would you just shut up and listen to me?” I growled. “You know I own half an apartment building now.”
“Yeah, after your stepmom passed, right?” He finally grew serious. “Man, I really am sorry about that. It must be hard.”
“It's okay. I'm over it.” A total lie
. I'd just gotten good at hiding how much it hurt.
“So what do you want to tell me?”
“Her will is a disaster. She split ownership between me and Elle.”
Brett's eyebrow lifted. “That hot chick who used to spend the summer with you guys?”
“Yeah, her. But that's not the problem. My dad's going to get the whole property if we don't raise occupancy, and I dunno what to do.”
“Why not just let him have it? Seems like a pain in the ass.”
It was, but... The thought of letting dad win made me sick. He thought I was just a lazy, good-for-nothing sack of shit. That's what he always had thought. I was gonna prove him wrong, no matter what it took.
And Elle, I knew she really wanted to keep the place. Didn't understand why, but I did like seeing her happy. She got so excited when she and Heather talked about fixing the building up.
“There's another issue Debbie wrote into the will. If I don't get married by the end of August, Shady Acres is his.”
Brett cracked up with laughter so hard he swerved the truck into the other lane. I didn't feel like laughing. Crying was more like it.
“Married? That's the best joke I ever heard. Everyone knows Jayce Reinhard is never getting tied down by a ball and chain.”
“Yeah, you're telling me. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“You're that desperate to hold onto this dump?” Brett shook his head in disbelief. “Man. Well, I guess you could always fake it. Either that, or buy one of them Russian mail-order brides off the internet.”
“Fake it?”
“Sure. Find some girl, make a deal with her. Tell her you'll pay her to 'marry' you and stay married until the year's up. Then break things off.” He tossed his cigarette out the window. “Might wanna get a prenup, though. Chicks are crazy when money's involved.”
Actually, I wasn't sure what else the will said about the matter. Was divorce allowed? If so, after how long? It certainly couldn't be that easy.
“It could work, I guess. But tell me, who's this woman who would agree to such an insane plan? Not only that, what if she decides she doesn't want to divorce when it's time? Then I'm stuck with a court battle and a bunch of legal fees I can't afford.”
He shrugged. “You know hundreds of girls. Pick the one you trust the most.”
One name came instantly to mind.
Elle.
No way could I trust those chicks I barely knew, those flings and one-night stands. Elle, I'd known her forever. She was like family to me.
But she'd never go along with this ridiculous scheme. Would she?
If she did, I wouldn't have to get married for real. No more stupid online dating crap. No more fishing for women at the club and hoping to get lucky.
Plus, there was something in it for her. She'd get to keep the property. Win-win.
I clapped Brett on the shoulder. “You're a genius.”
His idea was so wild, it just might work. If I could manage to convince Elle, I'd be doing something I never in a million years thought I would do.
I'd be getting married. I'd have a wife. A fake wife, but still.
I had done lots of frightening things in my lifetime. I'd run into burning buildings, rushing through the flames to rescue people before their house collapsed on top of us all. I'd dragged a couple of kids down three flights of stairs while limping on a broken leg. Every day on the job could be the day I died.
But marriage? Commitment to one woman?
I had never been so damn scared in my life.
Chapter 10 - Elle
“We're screwed, Elle.”
Just the words I wanted to hear first thing in the morning. Heather had a bunch of papers spread across the front desk. The dark bags under her eyes worried me. Looked like she'd been up all night.
“What happened this time? Another financial catastrophe we can't afford?”
“Oh, we've got plenty of those.” She held up a paper with some sort of graph on it. “It's only the start of May, and already, we've got five more empty units.”
I reviewed the sheet. We'd lost that nice family of four in 321, the old woman with dementia in 130, the quiet single father from 404...
“What's going on? Why are so many people leaving?”
She waved her hands in the air. “Look around. This place is a dump. It's outdated and ugly.”
I bristled. “I prefer to think of it as 'historic.'”
“It hasn't been updated in years. Mom was a good manager, but she hated spending money on stuff that wasn't deemed necessary. She would rather keep cash on hand for repairs instead of buying brand-new appliances or making the place look pretty.”
Debbie always had been a sensible, frugal lady. She was more concerned with utility, the bare necessities, than style and flash. Sure, Shady Acres didn't have a fancy exercise room or an Olympic-sized pool. The walls hadn't been painted in years, nor was the carpeting ever replaced unless a cat peed on it or something.
But what the place lacked in amenities, it made up for with fair rental rates and the best customer service you could ever ask for. Of all the apartments around, Debbie offered the cheapest rent and rarely raised it.
Probably was why the building needed so much work – and why tenants were getting angry with me. Only a few months after her death, and I upped the rent by $50 per month for everyone.
It was a fair up-charge given the average rates in Waco. More than fair, actually. I didn't want to do it, but this was my business now. Without the extra money, this whole place would be shut down and fast.
Too bad the residents didn't quite understand that.
“I hear people talking around here.” Heather's eyes lowered. “They say the place has gone downhill since mom passed. They're not too happy with the change in management.”
“What? I bust my ass for this place every single day. I don't even take a day off!”
She shrugged. “They say you take too long to respond to complaints and handle work orders. Hiring Lisa to help was a good step, but not enough.”
I grunted and kicked the trashcan. “I can't handle everything by myself at the speed of light. They want fast service, yet they don't want their rent raised. How am I supposed to bring on new people when it's not in our budget?”
“I don't know. It's tough even finding people to work for us. We hired that Marty guy to be the new janitor, and he left after two days. Then we caught the next one trying to steal from the tenants!”
“Run background checks on every potential hire from now on.”
“Yet another thing we gotta pay for.”
Where the hell was Jayce in all of this? He owned half the building too. Said he wanted to keep it. But of course, like always, he skirted out of responsibility.
It was fine to keep the property, he had decided, so long as I handled all the dirty work.
I was so pissed at his lazy attitude, and mad at myself for being stupid enough to sleep with him.
I mean, he was good. Better than good.
Amazing with his hands. Skilled with his mouth. And very talented with his extra-large appendage...
But being a great lover didn't make up for who he really was: a trouble-making bad boy who'd rather get drunk and screw strangers than take care of business.
“Anyway, that's not the only problem. People are leaving for other reasons.” She pointed to a web page on her computer. “We're apparently no longer the cheapest in town.”
“Hidden Cove Apartments,” said the banner at the top. “Come discover your new dream home.”
I stared at the photos. It was a brand-new complex full of cute, charming little buildings, each one with four apartment units inside. The exterior was painted a soothing forest green with clean, white shutters surrounding huge windows.
Inside, the unit boasted vaulted ceilings, hardwood flooring, stone counter tops, and all-new stainless-steel appliances. Other photos showed off the manicured lawns, a picnic area, exercise facility, pool, and even a bike trai
l that looped around the lake.
“What in the world is this?”
Heather winced. “They recently opened in west Waco. Rent starts at $650 for a one-bedroom unit.”
My heart skipped a beat. Only $650 for all of this? Our one-bedroom apartments went for $700, and we had nowhere near what Hidden Cove offered.
“As you can imagine, we're losing quite a few to them.”
Rarely did I give up on anything in life. Once I decided I was going to do something, I worked at it until I achieved my goal. Unlike Jayce, I didn't toss up my hands and quit when the going got rough.
But I sure felt like quitting now.
“How can they rent for so cheap? We're barely covering costs even after raising rates.”
“Not sure, but I do have one guess. Shady Acres is privately owned. Hidden Cove is owned by a property management group called Homes Plus. They've got apartment complexes like this one all over the country.”
“Meaning they've got the money to pull this off. What they're losing in lower rent, they're getting back in higher occupancy.”
We couldn't possibly compete. Once tenants got wind of the cheaper place, they'd be moving out in droves. And the moment we lost more than five percent of residents, Jayce's father would be all over us.
Not to mention that Jayce was never going to marry. He hadn't said a word about it in over two weeks, since that online-dating fiasco at the club.
Since the night we spent together in his bed...
“You're right, Heather. We are totally screwed.”
She typed something quickly and then scribbled notes on a piece of paper. “It's okay. It'll be all right. We've just got to figure something out to keep people from leaving, and a way to bring new folks in.”
“Oh, is that all? Easy.”
The office phone rang. She snatched it up, then winced as a woman's shriek nearly blew out her eardrum.
“Yes, Mrs. Mason. Please calm down so I can understand you.”
“Understand this! I'm sick and tired of those people next door, always screaming and fighting at all hours. I work nights, ya know, and I'm trying to sleep!”
“Next door?”
“That couple in 211. I hear them arguing every single day – no thanks to these thin walls.” She snorted. “They break stuff, too. Heard glass shattering last evening before I left for my job. Why, they're going at it again right now, and I can't get a wink of rest.”
