by J. A. Howell
“Oh, well...I have a room on the fifth floor for $150 a night. Does that work?”
“Sounds good to me. I only have cash, but I can put down a deposit for the night.”
“That should be fine. Can I have your name, miss?”
“Um, Faye. Faye Martin.” I quickly answered with my middle name. Jackson had never bothered knowing it and it was a lot less conspicuous than “Harley.”
“Perfect, Ms. Martin.” She flashed me a friendly grin as she typed on her computer. “I’ve given you room 506. Did you need any baggage carried up to your room?”
“Nope, I’m good.” I took the key card from her perky little hand and adjusted the bag on my shoulder before turning for the elevators. After a couple of steps, I spun back toward her.
“Is there a place nearby where I can get a drink and something good to eat?” After such an eventful forty-eight hours, I could use a drink to unwind a little. She nodded then grabbed a notepad and scribbled directions before handing me the paper.
“Finley’s Pub is a good place to get some great local fare, and they have strong drinks.” She winked. Obviously, she knew from experience.
I dropped my bag off in my room, did a quick assessment in the mirror, ensuring my hair still covered my injured cheek, and made my way back to the hotel lobby. I was still wearing the same outfit I had left Louisiana in and I looked a bit disheveled from the bus ride, but I was hungry and I needed to stretch my legs. This far away, I doubted I needed to be on the lookout around any corner, and I knew from experience a pub was something Jackson wouldn’t be caught dead in. That fact alone gave me even more reason to go.
I followed blondie's directions and ten minutes later I spotted a pub sitting on the corner at the edge of downtown. A wooden sign with a red, white, and blue coat of arms painted on it hung above the front door. Scrolling filigree wrapped around a knight's helmet at the top. On a banner below the filigree there were two red flowers, two swords facing each other, and what looked to be two back-to-back Eagles. At the very bottom of the sign, in blue letters, was “Finley's.” I smiled a little as I admired it. I'd never actually visited a real pub before. There weren’t any near my hometown, just dive bars and the like. I was a few feet from the door when it flung open and a drunken frat boy type came barreling towards me before I could dodge him. I tumbled backwards over the curb as I lost my balance and landed flat on my ass in the street. The idiot grumbled, stumbling away.
“Oh Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't see ya there, miss.” A low gravelly voice with an Irish brogue rumbled above me. I looked up to see a masculine hand outstretched in front of me. I grabbed it as he pulled me up.
“It's fine, I wasn't really paying attention.” I laughed as I pushed my mass of black wavy hair out of my face. Two deep-set cobalt eyes met mine as I steadied myself. They studied me for a moment with an odd look of recognition before darting to the bruise on my cheek. All too conscious of it, I turned my head and let my hair fall back to cover it.
“I'll tell ya what, ta make up for throwin’ a drunk at ya, why don't ya go inside and grab yerself a pint on me.” He nodded towards the door as he rubbed an angular jawline covered in light stubble. As handsome as this guy was, I didn't feel like being hit on in my current state.
“No, that's fine, I can pay for my own drink.” I tried to decline but he waved his hand in dismissal of the thought before pushing back a few stray tawny-colored curls from his face.
“It's my pub, I insist.” He offered a benign smile, “go ta the redhead at the bar and let her know Nolan sent ya over.”
“Oh,” I blinked at him. He looked rather young to be the owner, late twenties at the oldest. “Um, thanks.”
I nodded politely and headed inside. As I neared the bar, I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see that same familiar yet faraway look in his eyes as he watched me. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he quickly looked away then disappeared into the crowd toward the back of the pub. What the hell was that about?
“New in town?” The redhead asked as I pulled myself up onto a barstool.
“By less than an hour.” I answered, “Nolan told me to come see you.”
“I saw you two chatting,” she grinned. “What kind of drink do you want?”
I eyed the wall that held an expansive list of drinks and beers. “Um…”
“Beer?
“Sure.” I replied.
“Which one?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t know they made so many.” I felt a little embarrassed to admit my knowledge of beer was limited to the few cheap brands you found at the local convenience store.
“Well then, try this one and see if you like it.” She filled a glass with an amber-colored beer and slid it over to me. “My name’s Aggie, by the way.”
“Harley,” I put my hand out and shook hers.
“Like the motorcycle?”
“Yep.” I was used to being asked that question any time I met someone new. She smirked, seeming pleased.
“That sounds more bad-ass than Aggie. It’s actually Agatha, after my late grandmother. But don’t you dare call me that. Just Aggie.” She narrowed her eyes in a mock serious manner.
“Got it. Mmm, this is pretty good.” I looked down at the glass appreciatively then back to her.
“Did you need anything else?”
“Actually, where’s a food menu? I’m a bit hungry.”
“What are you in the mood for? I can have the cook toss a burger and fries on for you.”
“That sounds amazing, actually.” My eyes grew wide and I licked my lips, salivating a little at the thought. Aggie smirked then yelled back into the kitchen. Ten minutes later, a heaping monster of a burger sat in front of me along with a basket of fries. Aggie watched with wonder as I took my first bite.
“Ohhhh. Mmmm, this is delicious.”
Aggie nodded knowingly. “Good stuff, eh?”
So far, I definitely liked Midtown. I had barely been in town an hour and already gotten a free drink and met someone I could see myself being friends with. Aggie and I chatted for a good while after I had finished my food. She told me about the heavy Irish population in Midtown and suggested some points of interest to check out, but when a large bachelorette party showed up, she had to excuse herself to deal with them, so I decided it was time to head back to the hotel.
It was a surreal feeling waking up completely relaxed. I hadn’t slept well in a long time. The tight knots in my chest I had grown accustomed to waking up with were nowhere to be felt. They had been commonplace in my life with Jackson. I never knew which days would be good days and which ones I would end paying dearly for.
The realization of my freedom spread a sense of euphoria through me as I lay there in the soft cotton sheets with my head resting on a large plush pillow. I wanted to remain in this cushy cocoon of a bed the entire day but I knew even with the amount of cash I had managed to take from Jackson, I needed to get settled on my own two feet. With a defeated sigh and one long stretch, I willed myself out of bed. I needed to get my butt in gear.
First though, I desperately needed a shower. I fell asleep when I arrived back from the pub and never got a chance to wash the bus stink off of me. As comfortable as that bed was, I wanted to see just how amazing the shower was in this hotel room. It didn’t let me down. When I slid the frosted glass door back, two large chrome showerheads greeted me. I turned on the shower and disrobed, eagerly stepping into the spray of warm water, sighing happily as I let it run through my hair and over my bare skin. I was sure this was as close to heaven as I could get.
I opened the sample bottle of shampoo and squeezed the contents into my palm. A deliciously sweet scent filled the room as I worked it into a rich lather through my hair. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have these same luxuries when I was with Jackson, but being free from him made them much more pleasurable.
I let myself linger under the soothing stream for another minute before begrudgingly turning off the water and sliding the glass do
or open. Staring back at me from the mirror were the various purpling and yellowing bruises that covered my thighs, my arms, my hips...my whole body. Various cuts, puffy and pink with scabs, each forced my last night with Jackson into the forefront of my mind. I hastily pulled a towel from the rack and wrapped it around myself then snatched the shopping bag from the nightstand by the bed. I’d stopped at the drug store on the way back from Finley's Pub and grabbed a few necessities. I returned to the bathroom mirror and dumped the contents of the bag onto the counter.
I couldn’t erase that night, but at least for now I could camouflage the evidence. Dab away at the marks he left, hide them under a false facade of concealer and foundation in much the same way I tried to bury the memories. Twenty minutes later, the marks on my face were mostly hidden. I put on a little eyeliner and clear lip gloss before pulling my hair into a messy half-ponytail, leaving most my wavy hair free on my shoulders. Satisfied with my improved appearance, I smiled at my reflection before changing into a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeve top from my bag. I was thankful for the cool weather in Midtown, nearly all my marks were now hidden away with my clothing and make up.
Finally, I left ready to accomplish my two goals for the day: a job and a new place to live. As I entered the hotel lobby a different girl smiled at me from the front desk, a brunette with an equally rehearsed perkiness as her blonde predecessor. I noticed a newspaper lying on the counter and motioned toward it.
“Do you mind if I take the classifieds?”
“Oh, take the whole thing. We have several copies for guests.” She slid the newspaper toward me. I thanked her then tucked it under my arm. As I headed for the door my stomach let loose a growl ferocious enough that the brunette looked up at me with concern. My cheeks reddened and I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind her. I hadn’t realized I’d slept so late. It was already after noontime. Stopping for food first couldn’t hurt.
Indeed it actually sounded a bit more practical than my original plan of hoofing it all over town. I should probably read the classifieds first, before I go on the hunt, considering I had no clue where to start. A few blocks away, I found myself back in front of Finley's. Noticeably, no drunkards were being tossed from the entrance at this time of day. The quirky redheaded bartender from the night before was placing a sign on the sidewalk with the lunch specials written out in colorful chalk. There was a fish and chips special for five bucks which the very thought of made my stomach lurch painfully. I guess I’m getting fish and chips.
The pub looked a bit different than it did in the evening. Classic rock played just loud enough to hear as opposed to the heavier, louder stuff that people had been screaming over the night before. It was a more laid back atmosphere. A few other patrons were enjoying lunch so I found myself an empty booth and scooted into the corner, laying the newspaper on the table. A few moments later, Aggie came over to me with a grin.
“Hey again, what can I get you? Another burger?” She grinned, waggling her eyebrows.
“Mmm. It was great, but no, I’m going to try the fish and chips, with a coke please.” I grinned back.
She nodded then disappeared into the kitchen. As I waited, I rummaged through my purse for a pen, finally finding one at the very bottom. I got to work, and flipped the paper open to the classifieds. My eyes were scanning the employment section when Aggie returned with a large glass of soda.
“Job hunting?” She peered down at the paper as she pulled a straw from her apron and placed it by my drink. I nodded at her and grabbed the straw, pulling it free from its wrapping and sticking it in my glass.
“I’m holed up at The Admiral Hotel while I figure out a job and a place to live.” I said before taking a sip. The soft drink seemed to douse my growling tummy, at least momentarily. Aggie glanced at me, then back towards the kitchen with a curious gleam in her eyes. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she slowly turned back toward me.
“Do you have any waitressing experience?” She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully.
“It’s been a few years, but yeah.” I had worked at a small diner back in Louisiana during high school. She held a finger up as if to say something else. Instead she spun around and disappeared into the kitchen once more. Shaking my head in amusement, I returned my attention to the ads in front of me, now scanning over apartment listings. I had about four grand of Jackson’s money. It was enough for a deposit – a couple of month’s rent, depending on the place - and money to get some other much needed necessities. As of now, I only had a few days worth of clothing in my bag.
Most of the listings were way out of my budget and I was wary to look at listings for roommates. After dealing with Jackson for so long, I just wanted my own space. I turned the page, feeling a little discouraged until I spotted one listing for $600.
$600 a month, fully furnished-600 sq. ft. Utilities included. Available Immediately!
I feverishly circled the listing, re-reading it once more to ensure I wasn’t confused. Still, it must be a typo. No other places were listed anywhere near that low. If there was one thing that being with Jackson taught me, most things were too good to be true. Still, it couldn’t hurt to find out. As I looked up from the paper and folded it over, Aggie was returning from the kitchen with a steamy plate full of fried fish and chips and that same gleam still beaming in her eyes.
“Soooo…. I talked to Nolan. If you want to, be here at 1 PM tomorrow.” She placed the dish in front of me. I looked back at her, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
“For what?”
“To start work. Duh.”
“You mean you just got me a –?”
“Yes, yes...I got you a job. If you want it, of course. It was more for me than you. We’ve been short-handed and Nolan can’t be bothered to wait tables.” She smirked then tossed me a fitted button-up shirt. “So, I will see you tomorrow then?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I looked down at the shirt with “Finley's” imprinted across the back then back up at her. “Seriously, thank you.” She simply nodded then left me to finish my lunch. I devoured the deliciously unhealthy meal and left her a generous tip before heading out. With even less to worry about, I had to find out about this possible steal of an apartment. The way my luck seemed to be going so far, maybe it wasn’t too good to be true after all.
CHAPTER THREE
Mirror, Mirror
1300 Flagstone Street. It was definitely the place – a five-story building with a worn brick façade that didn’t appear to be a crack house . . . so far. I took a deep breath and climbed the two steps to the main entrance, then turned to follow the arrow next to the sign that read “Management.” My boots clacked against the worn stone floor as I neared a red door with a matching placard across it. After a couple of knocks, a short, plump, balding olive skinned man opened the door.
“Can I help you, miss?” He looked up the bridge of his nose at me, squinting slightly.
“I’m here about the apartment you had listed in the paper. The furnished one, for $600?” I held up the ad for him to inspect. He furrowed his brows and glanced at me suspiciously as he took the scrap of newspaper with the listing on it.
“I forgot I still had the ad running.” He shrugged as he looked back down at it, studying it through crinkled eyelids.
Damn, someone must have already moved in.
“So, I’m too late then?”
His chest rumbled and he let out a laugh as he looked back up at me.
“Are you kidding me, girl?’ He waved a hand in the air, “Nobody’s asked about that place in months!” The tiny man hobbled back into his apartment and opened a wooden cabinet on the wall, searching through the various silver keys that hung on hooks. He let out a sigh as he came back to the door, scratching at the potbelly barely contained by the undershirt he was wearing.
“Here we go. Apartment 333, you still sure you want to see it before I go all the way up these damn stairs?” He raised an eyebrow at me. Is he serious? He didn’t cr
ack a smile at all when he asked.
“If it’s still available, I want to see it.” I said firmly. What a terrible landlord. Wasn’t the point to try to get people to move in? Undeterred, I followed him toward the stairs, watching him suspiciously as we ascended. He teeter-tottered back and forth, as his breath came out in winded puffs. I supposed I couldn’t fault him in not wanting to waste his time showing me the place. From the sound of it, this was quite an exertion for his old, out of shape body. After what seemed like an eternity of hoping this man didn’t keel over from cardiac arrest, we finally reached the third floor. As he led me down the hallway, I still wasn’t sure what to expect. So far nothing about this place seemed appalling, aside from the landlord’s attitude. In fact, other than a little discoloring on the light tan walls due to age, I’d have to say the place looked pretty nice. The dark bluish-gray carpet rolled down the hallway accentuating the rows of midnight colored doors, each with contrasting brass numbers hanging just below the peephole.
As we neared apartment 333, I braced myself. Surely there had to be something terrible behind this door. I was still skeptical there could be a perfectly good apartment for such a cheap rate. I watched as the old man flipped the key over in his palm then jiggled it into the keyhole. A moment later he pushed the door open and stepped out of the way. All I could do was stand there dumbfounded as the apartment came into view. It was perfect. From the glossy parquet floors to the lush gray Berber carpets in the living room, the apartment was nearly immaculate. I turned to the portly little landlord with a questioning look. He only smiled and shrugged.
“This is the apartment, Mister, um?” It dawned on me then that I had never asked his name.
“You can call me Leo.” He nodded. “What do you think of the place?” I stepped over the Parquet entryway and walked through living room and dining room areas as I looked over the furniture that was covered with drop cloths and an even coat of dust. I gently lifted one of the corners of the cloth for further inspection. Underneath was a modern style wrap-around sofa in a mixture of suede tan and dark brown shades of leather. The kitchen was quaint, nothing fancy, but it had a beautiful view that stared out into the city.
