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Unlike my place in DC, which was a cross between a flophouse and a strip club, the room is clean, open, and light with neutral colors on the walls and a row of windows along the expanse of the living room that overlooks the Delaware River.
Nothing is out of place. The floor sparkles with a shine, the counters are free of clutter, and only a toaster and coffeemaker are in one corner of the kitchen. It’s as if no one has ever lived here.
I set my bag on the floor, about to give myself the tour, when Charlotte walks in behind me and closes the door. Startled, I turn around to face her.
“What do you think?” Charlotte holds her hands out at her sides. “Will this work for you? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, but no one has lived here in months. There are fresh sheets on the bed, and the bathrooms and kitchen are clean. I was planning to have my housekeeper come by tomorrow morning to give it a once-over before you moved in.”
“Don’t worry about it. Looks clean enough for me.”
She lets out a deep breath, as if relieved with my response.
I attempt to make small talk as she walks toward the kitchen. “Mickey said an agent he knows owns this apartment.”
She nods, her eyes fixed on the lights shining through the windows. The view of the waterfront is spectacular. “I own several apartments in the building, including the one Rico and his mother sublet. So, that makes me your landlord, Mr. Parker.”
I laugh. “You can drop the formalities, sweetheart. Alex will do just fine.”
She flashes a sexy half-smile and steps in front of me, and with her height, our lips are almost touching. “Let’s get a few things straight, sweetheart,” she says in a condescending tone. “You are Mickey’s client, not mine, and I don’t have to put up with your shit. I know all about you and why you are here. I will not tolerate wild parties and the revolving door of women you plan to parade through your bedroom every night. This is a family building. The board of directors has standards, and so do I.” Pressing her finger into my chest, she says, “Got it, pal?”
I roll my eyes. Did she really call me pal? “Sure thing, boss lady.”
Charlotte takes a few steps back, her hands on her hips. Her beautiful blue eyes meet mine with such intensity that I’m not sure what move to make next. We have hit an impasse. I always know what to say or do around women, but when it comes to Charlotte, she is an enigma. One minute, she’s nice, unlike the psycho who yelled at me on the phone, and I think we’re hitting it off, even contemplating asking her to stay for a drink, and then the next, she looks like she’s ready to kick my ass.
Mickey was not joking when he said Charlotte was not your average girl. What an understatement. But I like her, despite the angry scowl on her face.
“I think you can find your way around the apartment,” Charlotte finally says after a long, awkward pause.
She saunters toward the door, her sneakers squeaking on the tiles, and I follow behind her.
With the wooden door in her hand, she swings it open and turns to face me, placing one foot in the hallway, the other pointed toward me. “Rent is due on the first of the month. The building has a strict noise policy, so, like I said, no wild parties, especially after eleven p.m., or I won’t be the only person you have to deal with.”
“Anything else?” I ask, almost afraid to say something that might piss her off further. I’m so used to women putting up with my shit that I didn’t even think that Charlotte wasn’t the type of girl I could get one over on. And I respect her for it.
Giving me a disapproving look, she shakes her head and reaches into the gym bag on her shoulder. “No, I think that will be all for now. If you have any issues, give me a call,” she says, handing me her business card.
She turns away from me and begins to leave, but I need to stop her.
“Look, Coach, I’m sorry. Can we start over? Maybe stay and have a drink with me or let me take you to dinner.”
“You’re not the first athlete who has talked to me like I am their plaything, and you will not be the last. I’m not your sweetheart or baby. I’m your landlord and one of Mickey’s agents, so things between us need to remain strictly professional. Understand?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, deflated. I can’t even remember the last time a woman turned me down. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”
“Oh…you didn’t call me sweetheart because you thought it was what I wanted to hear?”
“Well, yes, but—”
She holds up her left hand to silence me and extends her right to me. “Charlotte Coachman. Most people call me Coach.”
“Nice to meet you, Coach. Alex Parker.”
Releasing her grip on my hand, she grins. “Have a nice night, Parker. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
After she walks away, I close the door and press my back against the wood, wondering if she will come to my first game with the Flyers. Saturday is only a few days away, but hoping Charlotte will be there makes the wait feel longer. It also makes me a little anxious. I want to impress her, change her mind about me.
Coach
Being around Alex Parker makes me nervous.
