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But it wasn’t the bulletin board that answered.
It was Patsy.
“Linda’s freaked,” she said.
Linda being the longest-standing resident at Oasis Square. She’d moved in about five years after the complex was built. She was a retired schoolteacher who never married. She was in her seventies, and as such, on a fixed income.
“She’s sure they’ll raise our rents after all this work is done. And she barely survived Campos’s last rent increase,” Patsy went on.
Every year, bar none, John Campos had increased the rents.
This was annoying, but it wasn’t out of hand. It happened everywhere, and especially in our area, which was pretty safe (for city living) and popular, just north of McDowell on Seventh, not a five-minute drive from downtown.
Rent in Phoenix was astronomical, and although this rent was affordable to me, it was because I did some moonlighting work. I’d barely be scraping by if I didn’t, and probably would have to move somewhere that was not nearly as nice.
It would totally blow if Linda had to move after living there for forty years.
“Has anybody emailed that address?” I asked, pointing toward the contact info at the bottom of the notice.
“Bill and Zach are on it,” she told me. “They’ll hit the email chain with anything they learn.”
It was Linda who started the complex-wide email chain. She made it her mission to hit up any new tenants to get their comms info, partly so we could invite them to our pool parties and partly so we could collectively bargain when Campos was falling down on maintaining things.
Bill and Zach looking into this change was good. If anyone could get the complete lowdown, Bill and Zach could.
“Right,” I said to Patsy. “Never a dull moment, I guess.”
“I like animals, but I don’t want to have to walk dogs on top of dealing with doctors all day in order to live here.”
Patsy worked reception at a primary care physicians’ office.
“Word,” I replied.
We bid adieu, and Cleo and I had barely hit Seventh on our way to Indian School when my car told me my phone was ringing.
The display on the dash said it was Cap.
I was weirded out about my new landlord, but seeing his name made me smile.
I took the call with a, “Yo.”
“Mornin’, baby,” he said, sounding sleepy.
Those tingles and ripples he caused went positively volcanic when I experienced his deep voice sounding sleepy.
Not to mention, he obviously woke, saw my text and called right away.
Nice.
“You sleep well?” I asked.
“Yeah. What you up to?”
“Cleo and me are on our way to work.”
“Who’s Cleo?”
“I pick up pet sitting gigs for extra bank. She’s my gig for the weekend. Say hello to Cap, Cleo.”
