by Wendy Owens
“Where to, miss?” the cabbie asked as I pulled the door closed.
“Corner of Fourteenth and Ninth, please,” I answered, watching him for a reaction to the location. He gave me nothing, only pressed on the accelerator, and we were off.
When we arrived at the building I was certain something was off. I stared at the street side for a moment longer before repeating the address I had actually desired to the driver. He again confirmed this was the location. Settling the balance owed, I stepped out, watching the cab pull away. The street itself was actually quite quaint. There were trees lining both sides, and down a block I could see the start of some pristine looking row houses.
What I was staring at, however, was not quaint. It was a huge, oversized, dilapidated warehouse with a number of the windows boarded up. I glanced at the address I had jotted down: 16475. Looking to my left, and then right, I did my best to try and piece this puzzle together. That’s when I spotted it. A door a few feet down on my left had the numbers 16475 spray painted above it. The paint was running, but the numbers were unmistakable.
My heart sank as I realized this was another dead end. There was no possible way this place could be livable. With a hard swallow, I decided to at least go in. I wasn’t sure what was prompting me to keep this appointment. Perhaps it was because I had enjoyed talking to Paige. As sad as it was, Paige was the most contact I had with anyone in the city so far, except for my motel clerk who smelled like stale cigarettes and always stared at my breasts when he spoke to me.
Pulling the heavy metal door open, a blast of cool air and the smell of steel hit me. I walked inside to find an old lift—an actual lift, not an elevator—it was unlike anything I had ever ridden on before. I hesitated, unsure if I was even allowed to be in the place. Perhaps I had misread the numbers, and now I was trespassing. I pulled up the wooden gate and enclosed the cage around me. Now what? I wondered as I stared at the control board. One had a yellow star painted next to it so I decided to begin there.
Buzz.
The loud noise filled the car as I realized there was an intercom to the left of the control panel. My stomach twisted, nerves consuming me as the unfamiliar situation began to overwhelm me. I flexed my fingers, trying to calm myself.
Pressing the intercom button, I spoke, “I’m here to see Paige about an apartment.”
Nobody replied. I stood there in awkward silence. A moment passed and the lift began to move. I sighed with relief; I had to be in the right place. The shaft moved slowly past the openings in the rickety wooden slat gate, until at last it came to a stop. Lifting the ancient gate, bits of white paint chipping off as I did, I stepped out onto a small landing with concrete floors, an oversized steel door in front of me. This door was actually quite beautiful with a patina all around the edges and a handsome sheen to it.
I reached out and knocked, the ting of steel against my knuckles filling the corridor.
“It’s open,” a man’s voice called back.
A knot formed in my throat. That answered one question I had for Paige. Roommates? I couldn’t see myself living with male roommates. Now I was certain this wasn’t going to work out.
I pushed open the heavy door, stepping inside the vast space. The floors were no different than what had been in the corridor—unfinished concrete. I thought there was no way this could be a habitable dwelling, it had to be some sort of mistake.
“Hello?” I called out, feeling it was rude to walk too far into the space unescorted.
“Come on in,” the faceless man called out from a hidden location.
Cautiously, I walked farther into the room, peering around the corner slowly. I was standing in the middle of a warehouse. It was exactly what it looked like from the outside, there was no mistaking it. It appeared as though a bunch of squatters had taken up residence in the space. A makeshift kitchen was off to one side, beaten down cabinets hung on the walls with no doors on the front of them, exposing the hodge-podge of cookware inside. The countertop was made of steel, and I would almost think it were stylish if it hadn’t looked so filthy.
In the main room, the ceilings were open all the way to the rafters, and though there was a couch and some other random items of furniture strewn about, in no way did words like ‘cozy’ or ‘home’ come to mind. Off to one side was a hallway, which I had no desire to see what might reside on the other end.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled, assuming I was alone in the room.
“About what?” the faceless voice called back. I quickly realized someone was lying on the couch.
“Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t see anyone. I’m here to see Paige,” I replied.
“She’s busy. I’m sure she’ll be out soon,” the raspy voice answered. I found myself getting annoyed at the fact this man continued to lay on the couch, out of sight, as I spoke to him. He obviously had no manners.
“I’m sorry, there must be some kind of mistake. Paige said this was a loft, and well, this is not what I pictured.” I grimaced, confused by the picture before me. When I thought of a loft I imagined the glamorous images in magazines. This place definitely had the industrial thing going for it; after all, it was pretty much a factory floor with some furniture on it.
“And what exactly did you picture?”
“Something that didn’t make me feel like I needed a tetanus shot after standing in it for ten minutes,” I replied honestly.
With that, the faceless voice came into view. As he stood, my breath caught in my throat. He stared at me for a moment, not saying a word. I was fine with this because I found myself staring right back.
He stood there, just looking at me, one dark, sinister, and oh so sexy eyebrow raised. He was a shirtless Adonis, there in the flesh, and I was helpless, unable to look away. For a moment, my eyes shifted down, drinking in his firm chest, chiseled abs, and the tease of the cut just above where his distressed jeans rested. His muscles were hard, though his body still lean.
Quickly, when I realized I was ogling this stranger’s body, I forced my eyes to shift back to his face, but there was no relief there from the exquisiteness. His straight, thick, dark black hair looked like he had just gotten out of bed, absolute perfection. I could even tell from the distance I stood, his eyes were a breathtaking icy gray. His complexion was flawless, accentuating the stubble of his three-day beard. He had a strong jawline that seemed to be clenched at the moment, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was annoyed by my presence.
“First off, no, this is not a loft. At least, not yet. It is a warehouse I’m in the process of converting to a loft space. Second, Paige doesn’t live here.” The words flew out of his mouth like spikes. I had obviously offended him. I turned my head, unable to carry on a conversation with him in his current state. The site of him, half-dressed, was actually starting to make me salivate.
“Wait, what?” I asked, seeking clarification, completely confused by this point, and embarrassed by my rudeness, but not willing to admit it.
“Oh, hey love!” Paige chirped strolling into the main room from the ominous dark hallway.
“Paige!” I exclaimed, relieved to see her face, though not much else about her seemed familiar. The hair, which had been blonde when I met her, was now auburn and wavy. Unable to help myself, I blurted out, “What happened to your hair?”
“Really? You didn’t know that was a wig? I think the real question is what are you wearing? Are you going out on a yacht or something after this?” Paige asked with a snicker, continuing to grab a dirty bowl from the kitchen counter and rinse it. I heard the shirtless man also laugh, followed by the thud of him plopping back onto the couch. I was now glad I had not apologized for my rude comments.
I then noticed Paige’s bare ass cheeks peeking out from under the oversized men’s dress shirt she was wearing, the sliver of cotton at her waist barely qualifying as underwear. Suddenly, I felt something I had never felt in my life: old.
Deciding to ignore the nagging self-deprecating thoughts that
were sneaking into my head, I chose to ignore her comment about my clothes and instead asked, “I thought you said you lived in a loft?”
“I do.”
“This is not a loft!” I protested.
“I know. I don’t live here,” she replied, as if this were something I should have already known.
“Then why in the world would you tell me to meet you here?” I asked as Paige used the now only slightly soiled bowl to pour Cheerios into.
“She has a point. Quit telling people where I live!” the couch man called out from his hidden spot.
“Oh, shut up, Colin! It’s your stupid fault I have to find a new roommate in the first place.” Paige shouted through half chewed food.
Damn it, he looks like a Colin. Stupid sexy people and their stupid sexy names, I thought.
“What is going on out here?” a voice asked, walking out from the back room. He was wearing only boxer shorts, his body graced with muscles bulging from everywhere. His physique was very different from Colin’s. He was bulky, his neck broad, and though they shared the same dark hair color, this one’s was shorter, much more tailored.
The god-like creature walked up behind Paige, smacking her ass with one hand while wiping the sleep out of his eyes with the other.
“Oh nothing, just your brother being an ass,” Paige snarled.
“You’ve got a real classy broad there, bro,” Colin shot back.
“Can you two cool it for five minutes?” boxer boy asked, before looking around the kitchen with a puzzled stare, as if searching for something. “Hey babe, did you make me a bowl?”
Paige swallowed the bite in her mouth, and then replied, “You can use my bowl when I’m done.”
I cringed at the complete lack of hygiene that surrounded me. “Umm, hello? Remember me?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Clementine, this is my boyfriend, Christian. This place belongs to his brother—they’re renovating it. I guess you’ve met Colin.” After she finished speaking, she stuck her tongue at the invisible couch man.
Still stewing from his snickering in reference to Paige’s joke about my clothes, I decided not to give him the satisfaction of my acknowledging his existence. “So, you don’t live here?”
“No, I live in a loft a few doors down. I told you to meet me here because my roommate was getting her stuff out this morning, and I didn’t want it to be all awkward.”
“Why do you insist on calling your place a loft?” Colin asked, finally sitting up to make eye contact with someone he was engaged in a conversation with.
“Because it is,” Paige growled, squinting at him from across the room.
“Oh my God, Paige, it’s not! It is a two-bedroom apartment. There is nothing wrong with saying that. This place will be a loft.”
“This place is a rat hole!” Paige shouted, her cheeks bright red.
“Fine, whatever, then why don’t you go back to your own loft. And take Orange… Clementine… whatever her name is with you,” Colin commanded.
If I hadn’t been so insulted I was sure I could have come up with a witty response. “Nice to meet you, Christian. I’ll wait for you outside, Paige,” I instructed, turning and exiting. In the moment, I thought appreciating the introduction to his brother and not him would be quite a burn to Colin. Upon further reflection, I realized he probably didn’t even notice.
Chapter Three
I took a step back, watching Paige as she fumbled with the keys in her hand, searching for the one that would provide access through the exterior security door. I wondered how she could look so fashionable in just a pair of cut off denim shorts and a button down shirt with a sheer scarf hanging around her neck. I could easily see her in the pages of a magazine, showing off the latest trends.
My first impression of the building was much better than of the warehouse space. The brick facade was well kept; below each window, flower boxes were perched, spilling over with color. At the edge of the street stood a tall oak tree in the small square of green space.
Paige sighed with relief after locating the correct key. Looking over her shoulder she explained, “I accidentally left my keys inside my place, so these are the spares I gave Christian, but he has all these blasted rental keys on his.”
“Oh—” I began, following close behind her, “is he a handyman or something?”
Paige laughed at my question. “Not exactly. The Bennett brothers own around fifty properties. Well, I guess to be accurate, Colin owns them, but Christian helps with all the renovations and upkeep.”
“Are they all as lovely as that last place?” I asked, horrific flashes of the warehouse running through my mind.
“Careful what you say about that place,” Paige said, climbing a set of stairs in front of us. “That project is Colin’s baby. He is sinking everything into it.”
“Why? It’s a wreck,” I stated.
“Oh hell,” Paige mumbled, halting at the top of the steps. I glanced around her to see a door propped open with a cardboard box.
“What’s wrong?”
“Bitch is still here,” Paige whispered looking back at me. I said nothing, unsure what she was talking about. “I guess we can still go in.”
“Is everything all right?” I inquired, anxious about whatever situation seemed to be putting her on edge.
“My ex-roommate—she was supposed to be out by this morning, but she’s still here.” Paige took a deep breath, staring at the open door for a lingering moment.
“Things not end well?”
“It’s complicated,” Paige answered.
“Go ahead, tell her why it’s complicated,” an annoyed voice commanded from the doorway. Paige nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Bailey, hi, I didn’t know you were going to be here. We’ll just be in and out,” Paige said, ignoring the girl’s antagonizing remark.
“Whatever,” the girl she had referred to as Bailey snarled, before huffing as she dropped another box in the hallway. The awkwardness of the encounter made my stomach flutter. The girl made no effort at hiding her complete and utter disgust at the situation she was in.
She was actually quite pretty: blonde, with perfectly sun kissed highlights. Her cheekbones were high, eyes a sparkling blue, and a figure that made me assume she must have been a model acquaintance. Perhaps a working relationship soured? I thought.
Turning sideways, I made my way past the angry girl, and followed Paige inside the door. The apartment immediately opened up to a galley kitchen, which would have seemed odd to me before, but after seeing so many apartments in New York, nothing surprised me any longer. The floors were a beautiful golden shade of oak hardwood, the cabinets a darker wood that almost appeared black at first glance, the countertop space was sparse, to say the least, but the swirling marble seemed to make up for the lack of space. The appliances were on the smaller side, but all stainless steel.
The kitchen led straight into a huge open living room that was flanked with two large oversized windows that overlooked that large tree by the street. The main wall to the left was exposed brick—a decorative fireplace place in the middle, with candles tucked into the opening. A gray sofa separated the room from the kitchen, a distressed coffee table in front of it, rested on top of an ornate teal and white rug. Between the windows sat a small side table with a lamp that was made out of what appeared to be driftwood, and to the right was an oversized cream linen chair. If you added a little art to the walls, it would instantly feel like home.
“It’s a split bedroom layout. Your room has a bathroom with a stand up shower, but if I’m out you can use my bathroom, which has a tub,” Paige explained.
“Are you serious?” I asked. The place seemed too good to be true. I was waiting for the catch.
“Serious about what?” Paige asked raising her eyebrows.
“This place seems too good. How much did you say rent would be?”
“For your half it’s $1500, and that includes your utilities,” Paige explained the terms. That was my entire monthly
budget I was getting from school, which meant I would have to use savings and any money I could make to pay for food and other living expenses. I had naively hoped I would find a place for a fraction of my budget, but I was quickly learning this was not Indiana.
“Bailey, can I show her your old room?” Paige asked, attempting politeness.
“I don’t give a crap, it’s not mine anymore,” the girl snapped, rushing past. Ever since we had entered the place, her packing efforts seemed to be in high gear.
“Slut,” Paige whispered, walking toward the open bedroom to the right of the apartment. “This would be your bedroom. The bed and dresser stay, but you have to provide all of your own linens, and anything else you might need.”
Paige stepped into the room, moving off to one side. The room was a unique shape with one of the exterior walls angling into the square footage. The same exterior wall was also exposed brick; the angled area had a window in the center of it. Behind Paige was the entrance to the modest bath. I couldn’t help myself, I giggled.
“Is something funny?” she asked defensively.
“No, the place is great. I can’t believe how many places I’ve looked at that didn’t even have a window. What’s the catch?”
I followed her as she walked back into the main living area. “No catch, just a good deal.”
“Yeah, no catch, right,” Bailey said sarcastically, walking past us to pick up another box.
“Grow up,” Paige spat angrily.
The girl stopped in front of me, looking me up and down for a moment. “Word of advice, stay clear of the landlord.”
“Umm, okay,” I answered softly, shifting my weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“Shut up, Bailey, it was your choice to sleep with him. Why don’t you quit blaming everyone else for your problems?” Paige pushed back, raising her voice.
