Page 3 of A Roommate for Ronny

The worst part wasn’t the heartbreak, the loneliness, or feeling like a failure. Three days later, I discovered that he hadn’t been dropping off the rent for months. Not his share or mine. The landlord had been sending notifications, but Jeremy was one step ahead of them, hiding the notices as they came.

It wasn’t until I saw the eviction letter, the one handed to me by the local sheriff’s department, that I knew how bad things had gotten. I did not have enough money to catch up or proof it was paid.

“Never again,” I told myself.

I checked into a crappy motel that had rates by the week and included multiple roommates, including a mouse I nicknamed Larry and a spider named Fred. I needed out of there. I needed a fresh start.

Two weeks in, after an incredibly shitty shift at work, one of the guests said, “At the speed you check people in, you should work at a B&B.” They meant it as a slam on my skills. I took it as an idea and ran with it.

When I got home the next morning—go night shift—I searched the country for innkeeper positions. They came with rooms and money. Finding one would be a win-win.

Four days later, I found the perfect job and applied. It came with room and board, which was nice, given most only had the room. Best of all, it was in a new city and a new state. The interview went great. They didn’t care that I had an eviction on my record or that my career goal wasn’t to be an innkeeper for life. They only cared that I had experience working at a hotel, a clean criminal record, and knew how to use spreadsheets.

It was the ideal next step.

I packed up my car, said good riddance to my past life, and drove across the country. I could’ve made it in a few days without pushing too hard, but instead, I took a slow path, stopping at every silly tourist attraction I could find. I camped at state parks and ate at holes in the wall and had some of the best food ever. Best of all, I discovered it was okay to be alone, that I liked being with me. And by the time I drove into the desert, about to reach my new job, life was looking pretty good.

I’d expected to see signs for the inn, letting tourists know where it was. Not that I was under the impression this was an incredibly touristy place, but still, people needed to know how to get there.

I didn’t see one on the way.

That should have been my first hint something was wrong.

I found the place easily enough. The location was great, the building stunning. But the windows were dark and the front door was locked. I walked around the property to see if I could find my new boss. I couldn’t. I called them only to discover their phone was no longer in service. I sent countless emails before seeing they were bouncing back.

Crap. I’d been ghosted by a job.

I was sitting on the front steps, trying to figure out what to do next, when an older man walking his dog waved to me from the edge of the driveway. I waved back, thinking he’d just keep moving. He took it as an invitation to come over.

“If you have reservations, you might want to leave.” He didn’t mince words.

“Why is that?”

“Well, I only know from the rumor mill.” He stuck out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Jones. I live next door. I probably should’ve started with that.”

“I’m Brach. Nice to meet you. Now what did you mean by that?”

“Rumors are, the person who was starting this inn didn’t actually own the place. It had been left to a family member, and the person who sold it didn’t have the rights to do so. Long story short, they’re going to be tied up in lawsuits until next year, or maybe next decade.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” At least I wasn’t scammed. It didn’t make the situation better, but it felt less awful knowing it wasn’t me.

“Wish I were. There’s a motel down the road, not too far. How long were you supposed to stay? Maybe I could help you get a discount, given the situation.”

I couldn’t help the tears blurring my vision. “I was supposed to be the new innkeeper.” I pointed to my car. “Everything I own is in there.”

“Oh. That’s a different story. Why don’t you come with Leroy and me? Have a cup of tea, and I’ll help you find a place to stay for the night.”

I wanted to say no, that I was fine. But I couldn’t because I wasn’t fine. And thanks to all of my meandering around the country, I didn’t have money to stay at a motel very long.

“I think I’m going to take you up on that.” I stood up and brushed off my jeans.

“Might as well leave your car here. You can see it from my back porch.” He pointed to said porch.

I nodded, and we went to his house, where I ended up sleeping on a cot as old as Jones was for the night.

Chapter Three

Ronny