Roommates

by Whitney Lyles

  “You did?” Justine sat up.

  “What about your tour?” Elise asked.

  “It’s just a temporary job. Just a couple of days.” He went straight for the fridge, pulled a cold one out, and popped the cap off. It was one o’clock in the afternoon. “I met this guy today at Max’s store.” Now he had her attention. “This dude has a face-painting business. We’re going to paint faces at the Del Mar Fair. It’s the last week of the fair, so they’re expecting a huge turnout.”

  Justine released a condescending laugh. “You? Paint faces?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “Me.”

  “That’s great, Jimmy,” Elise said. But back to the part about Max’s store. “So how did you say you met this guy again?”

  “Oh. He is a friend of Max’s. Hanging out at the—”

  “How much do you get paid?” Justine rudely interrupted.

  “He charges between five and ten dollars per face, and I make half of whatever we make for the whole day. He said I could probably make about two hundred dollars.”

  “I didn’t know you were such an artist.” Justine smirked.

  “Well, the guy, Leonard, that’s his name, has stencils, and all I do is airbrush inside the stencils. Some people might want a rainbow. Others might want their favorite football team. He said they do a lot of butterflies. Stuff like that.”

  “Maybe somebody will want Potter painted on their face. The band logo.” Justine laughed. “Or maybe they’ll want an autograph of the big famous San Diego bass player on their cheek.” Her wicked tone was masked with a condescending playfulness.

  Elise wondered why she was being so mean. He was finally doing something. Contributing.

  Jimmy released a little chuckle. “Maybe. Well, I gotta go get ready for the fair.”

  He went into Justine’s bedroom, and as soon as he was gone, she turned to Elise. “What an asshole.”

  “Uh . . . why?”

  Justine stormed to the counter and grabbed her cigarettes. “Come outside with me while I smoke. I need to talk to you.”

  As soon as the front door was closed, Justine began to fume, literally. Elise watched as she took several furious drags of her cigarette. “He’s leaving soon for his tour,” she exclaimed. “He is going to be gone for over a month! We aren’t going to see each other for over thirty-five days. See?” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her back pocket.

  It was a handmade calendar of Jimmy’s tour. Not only had she taken the time to write each date, city, and venue in calligraphy on a perfectly aligned grid, but she’d also gone the extra mile and glued a different picture of his face to every single day. “I made one for him, too. Only it has my face on every day. We’re keeping them in our back pockets at all times.”

  It was one of those odd occasions in Elise’s life when she was truly at a loss for words.

  “Anyway, I can’t believe that asshole got a job.”

  She looked at Elise as if she were waiting for her to tell her what a prick Jimmy was for getting off the couch and earning a living.

  “That means that three out of his five remaining nights that he is here we won’t be spending together.”

  “Well, don’t you get tired of paying his way all the time?”

  “No,” she snapped. “Why would I? I love him, and when he hits it big, he can pay me back.”

  “Okay.”

  She looked at Elise, terrified. “What’s the Del Mar Fair like?” she whispered. “I’ve never been.”

  “Well, there are a lot of animals. And rides. Giant cheese sticks and cinnamon rolls. Haven’t you ever been to a fair?”

  “No. Are there girls there?”

  “No. Fairs are only for men. Of course there are girls. Justine, there are girls everywhere.”

  “I know. But he’ll be touching their faces. And you know how girls are. Once they find out who he is, they’ll want more than a face-painting.”

  Reality check. Even if they did, by some far-fetched chance, find out he was in Potter, weren’t they going to wonder what he was doing painting faces? It’s not like he played bass for Aerosmith. He was painting faces for a living!

  “Justine, he loves you. You guys have your Cheechers names.”

  “He can cheech off.”

  “What are you going to do when he goes on tour? There are going to be girls around him all the time.”

  “Well, I already told him he has to call me at least four times a day.”

  That should be a blast for him.

  Glorious D strolled up. “Howz the ladies doin’ today?”

  “Fine,” Justine said. Then she lowered her voice. “Jimmy just got a job painting faces. At The Del Mar Fair.”

  “No shit?”

  “What’s the fair like, Glorious D?”

  “You know. There’s rides and a pettin’ zoo. And, damn. I don’t know. It’s a fair. Hey, you guys want a knockoff bag? My friend jus’ got a whole truckload. They look real good. Prada. Gucci. Kim Spade.”

  Justine threw her head back and howled laughter. “It’s Kate Spade, you moron.”

  “Kim Spade, Kate Spade. What difference does it make? It’s a nice price.” He turned his gaze to Elise. “And you could use a new bag. That one you carry looks real fake.”

  As far as she knew, her bag wasn’t a knockoff of anything. She’d bought it for fifteen dollars at a mall kiosk in Tucson. “Thanks, Glorious D. I’ll keep those bags in mind.”

  Jimmy was whistling when he came outside. His hair was wet, and he had gotten dressed up for the job, changing into a new T-shirt. He held a white envelope in his hand. “All right. I’m on my way. Oh, I almost forgot.” He lifted the envelope and started to hand it to Elise. Her heart lurched. Had Max sent a note for her with Jimmy? It was sort of juvenile, yet also sort of romantic. The thought of him being romantic made him sexier.

  “This was taped to the door,” he said.

  “Really?” Had Max stopped by and not bothered to knock?

  “It was addressed to you and Justine.”

  “What is it?” Justine asked before throwing her lit cigarette butt into a dry hedge next to their apartment.

  Elise felt her heart sink. The note wasn’t from Max, and was likely some neighbor complaining about the sound of Jimmy’s piano.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know who it’s from. I was going to open it, but it wasn’t addressed to me. But, hey, I gotta run. Have fun tonight.”

  As soon as he was gone, Elise opened the envelope. She pulled out a pink slip, and before she even had a chance to read it, Glorious D spoke up.

  “Holy shit, man. You guys been evicted.”

  12. The Hunt Begins

  They had thirty days to pack up and get out. In college, the word eviction had been associated with raging parties and excessive complaints from lame neighbors. Back then, eviction had signified the end of an era. The end of keg stands and live music.

  However, their landlord wasn’t kicking them out because he’d reached the end of his rope. The owner wanted to sell, cash in, and profit from the soaring California real estate. For the first time in Elise’s life she actually felt warm when hearing the word eviction. It would force her to leave City Heights.

  The afternoon after they learned of their eviction, Elise found Justine and Jimmy in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs that were brown. Elise tried to ignore the turquoise and purple guitar airbrushed on his cheek.

  “So,” he said. “I picked up the paper this morning at Ray’s, and I think we better get looking soon. There are a lot of good ads in there for the City Heights, North Park area.”

  As he slid the classifieds toward Elise, she felt a pang of guilt. They expected her to move with them, to continue as their roommate? She figured they would ask what her plans were and she could politely bow out, using the excuse that she really wanted to live by the beach. They, of course, wouldn’t be able to afford to relocate with her and would wish her well. “Oh,” Elise said. “Um, well . . . I don’t know if I want
to stay in this area.”

  They both stopped and looked at her as if she had just told them they had bad hair.

  “Oh,” Jimmy said.

  “You’re not going to live with us?” Justine asked.

  She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Maybe she should stay with them. Even though they made her want to kick the piano with annoyance on a regular basis, they weren’t mean people.

  On the other hand, what was she thinking? They drove her nuts, and Jimmy didn’t even pay rent! They probably only wanted her around to cover the other half of the apartment for them.

  “It’s just that I’ve always wanted to live by the beach, and Carly’s lease might be ending soon. We might look for a place together.”

  They nodded in unison. The excuse about Carly was a lie, but this seemed to make them feel better. “Well, you’ll have fun living with Carly,” Justine said. “But I’m sooo sad you’re not going to be my roomie anymore.”

  “Man, this eviction sucks,” Jimmy said as he picked up Bella and kissed her on the top of her head.

  It didn’t take them long to find a place. That afternoon, Justine signed a lease for a studio in City Heights. Elise could’ve also found a studio in City Heights, but she’d been telling the truth about living at the beach.

  She spent her afternoon scouring every kind of classified ad for roommates. After dozens of phone calls she’d heard the same things over and over again.

  “Sorry. Our landlord doesn’t accept pets.”

  “Oh, you’re a little late. I just found a new roommate.”

  “Rent is fourteen hundred a piece.”

  The final call was to a two-bedroom house in North Park. The girl on the answering machine identified herself as Jules. She spoke with an upbeat southern accent and promised to call back as soon as she got the message.

  She had just hung up the phone when it rang. She glanced at the caller ID and was surprised to see Carly. Elise had called her last night to tell her about the eviction, and she hadn’t answered. She had been hard to find lately, and Elise was surprised that she had called back so soon.

  “Okay, so who’s the guy, and why haven’t you told me about him?” Elise asked.

  Carly laughed. “What? There is no guy.”

  “You’ve been missing in action lately, and I can tell by the lilt in your voice that someone is making you happy.”

  “No, seriously. I just got assigned a great project at work. If I can impress my boss enough, I might just get the raise I’ve been waiting for.”

  “Oh, that’s great! Why didn’t you say something before? I’ve been wondering what’s been going on.”

  “Well, you know. I guess I just didn’t want to jinx anything. So anyway, what’s going on with you?”

  “I’ve been evicted. Max gave me the cold shoulder, and I can’t find a new roommate,” Elise said happily.

  “Okay, start with the eviction.”

  Elise told her about her new shot at freedom.

  “I wish I hadn’t signed that stupid lease. You and I could be looking for a place right now,” Carly said. “But I’ll spread the word around the office that you’re looking for a roommate. Now tell me about Max.”

  “It’s no big deal, really. I just dropped by his store the other day, and he wasn’t around, so I left him a note, which I know I probably shouldn’t have done. It’s so, I don’t know . . . And now he hasn’t made any effort to contact me, and I’m feeling really lame about the whole thing.”

  “Oh get over it. This isn’t nineteen fifty-two anymore. Women can make the first move, and furthermore, stop worrying about your image. Everyone knows you’re cute and talented and not desperate. Forget your ego already. Did you leave your number?”

  “No.”

  “Well, what do you expect?”

  “He knows where I live. He can make a little effort, too. And I didn’t want to seem too forward like Brooke who offered everything but her social security number that night in Ocean Beach. I just thought that was kind of obnoxious.”

  “She was obnoxious. But it’s about time you made a move with him. You can’t sit around wondering forever, and I’m proud of you for leaving a note. But next time please leave a way to get in touch if you ever want to make it out of the gray phase.”

  Carly was making her feel better. However, Carly was the type to leave notes and pursue someone. She had sex way before Elise had in high school, actually at the young age of fourteen. Elise had saved herself until college with her first serious boyfriend, Tim. Carly had also never had a serious boyfriend; rather a series of sex partners who never made it to the point of meeting Mom and Dad.

  Elise hated the gray phase, the hunt. There was such a fine line between making an ass out of yourself and making the first move.

  “Well, do you want to meet for drinks tonight or something?” Elise asked.

  Carly paused. “Um, well, I should probably work on this project, but sometime soon.”

  After they said good-bye, Elise wished for roommates who were single and wanted to have fun. Without Carly, she really had no single girlfriends. She decided to grab lunch and a copy of the Reader so she could scour the classifieds. She drove to Mama’s, grabbed her falafel, then stopped for the Reader at a liquor store on the way back.

  “Did anyone call?” she asked Jimmy. If she didn’t ask, she’d never find out.

  “Uh . . . let me think. Yes! I wrote it down. Jules called.”

  He handed her a piece of paper with “Jewels” scrawled across it and a phone number. “She told me to spell her name that way, just like the diamonds or emeralds.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah.”

  Elise quickly ate her falafel before calling the little gem back.

  A bright southern accent greeted her. “Hi there!”

  “Hi, Jewels. This is Elise Sawyer. I’m calling about the ad.”

  “Yes, sweetheart. Of course! Tell me a little about yourself.”

  They exchanged information about one another as if they were going on a blind date. Jewels worked in sales and was looking for a clean, quiet roommate. Her house was “darlin’,” and she honored privacy and personal space. She struck Elise as a younger version of Dolly Parton. But Dolly Parton was kind of cool and probably a real blast to hang out with.

  “Well, listen, honey, why don’t you get your sweet little self over here this afternoon.”

  “Sounds great.”

  A few hours later she left the barriers of the ghetto and headed into North Park. When she turned down the final street listed on the directions, she felt the same kind of excitement involved with stumbling upon a blowout sale at her favorite bookstore. Lined with adorable Craftsman-style houses and pert little picket fences, the whole block looked like the type of neighborhood where Girl Scouts could safely sell Thin Mints and neighbors exchanged gardening tips. She could already picture herself slipping on a pair of dainty gloves and tending a rosebush.

  Unlike City Heights, this neighborhood didn’t look as if it had been hosed in paint thinner. She slowed down in front of a cozy white cottage with a spray of colorful roses bordering its emerald lawn. She studied the street address, just to make sure she was in the right place. After she was positive this wasn’t some cruel joke played by Mapquest to mislead her, she pulled up the parking brake.

  The sweet scent of orange blossoms followed her all the way to the front door. She took a deep breath and silently asked God to make Jewels as cool as the house. If all went well, Elise would soon fall asleep to the lullaby of sprinklers softly raining over the landscape instead of sporadic gunshots and bloodcurdling screams. God, let Jewels be cool.

  “Coming!” A voice called from inside.

  A perky brunette with a smile as big as Alabama and purple eye shadow opened the front door. She had a pert little nose and was one of the few people who matched Elise in size.

  “Hi! You must be Elise!” she said in her southern drawl.

  “It’s a ple
asure to meet you.” Elise extended her hand.

  She took Elise’s hand into both of hers and held it for a little longer than Elise liked to shake. “It’s a lovely pleasure to meet you, Elise.” Her lips were so glossy that Elise imagined them serving as glue traps for small flying insects. “You come right on inside here, and I’ll getcha a drink and give you a tour of the place. It’ll be just wonderful. Are you hungry? I know it’s getting close to suppertime.”

  “Oh no. I’m fine. Thanks.” Her southern hospitality was charming, and Elise found herself sort of wishing for a southern accent so she could sound as interesting and warm. She’d be the life of the party.

  They stepped into a pink, lacy, rosy, country, baskety land. The house was a small palace of wicker furniture and paintings that featured barns and quilty things drying from clotheslines. She half expected Jewels to pull an apple pie from the oven and offer her a tall glass of lemonade, which would’ve actually been nice. In fact, she could get used to living here, even if Jewels seemed a little high strung and wore more makeup than a dancer at Cheetah’s.

  “Now. What would you like to drink, missy?” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Oh, nothing. Really, I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine. I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “Oh c’mon. Have something. It’s a hot day. You must want something . A Coke? Water? I make great lemonade.”

  “It’s okay.” Elise was really anxious to see the place.

  “All right. Suit yourself.”

  “So, you’re a writer?” she said as she led her down a hallway adorned with a gallery of picket fence and patchwork paintings.

  “Yes. And you never told me what field of sales you were in when we spoke on the phone.”

  “Well, I work out of the house, too! I actually sell a wonderful line of makeup called ‘Glow.’ Have you ever heard of it?”