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“But I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Ashlyn sobbed. Her baby started to cry. “How for overdue is it?” I asked. “A month, but it doesn’t really matter.” “Did you write the lease yourself?” I asked, the intended insult, of course, going right over his tiny little head.
“There is no lease! Who the fuck are you, anyway? Haven’t I seen you around here before?” the landlord asked. Finally, the opening I was hoping for. With some great flourish, I got out my cardholder, knocking one of the bone-white beauties into my hand, and proffering it to the landlord. “Chase Stanford, real estate attorney.” “Howell and Howell,” the landlord read off the card, his expression dropping. “Of course,” I said, with my most winning smile. “Doesn’t matter,” the landlord repeated, trying to give back the card. “Remember the Vallenti case?” I asked, keeping my cool. “Well, yeah, of course, it was in all the papers but, but—” “That was me,” I said, with my best impersonation of a friendly grin. “I-I-” he stammered, his bravado abandoning him along with his words. “Tell you what, how about we make things simple?”
“How’s that?” the cute young mother asked. “Well, Ashlyn, right?” “Yes.” She looked up at me with wide blue eyes. Tears were threatening to leak down her pink cheeks, and her face was pale like she hadn’t eaten in days.
“You and Katie can stay with me until we get things worked out. That way, the landlord will have his place back, and you won’t be rendered homeless by his stupid choices.” A look of worry moved through her eyes. There was fear there, but the desperation of her situation won out. “Sounds good to me,” Ashlyn whispered, pulling her daughter tighter to her. “Hey!” the landlord said, finally figuring out that I was probably insulting him. “Now, now, no need for that.” “Like fuck, there isn’t! I—” “Arguments tend to make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” I said, leaning down so we were eye to eye, adding just a little bit of a growl to my usual tone. “No,” the landlord agreed, taking another full step back. “Good, I’m glad we understand each other. Now, help me get this stuff back inside.” “Yes, sir!” the landlord shouted like he was going to salute. “I live in unit 301,” I said, helpfully. Without another word, he picked up a huge armload of Ashlyn’s stuff and ran back into the building like his pants were on fire.
Chapter Four
Ashlyn
It was like something out of a fairytale. There I was, a damsel in some deep distress at the hands of the evil goblin king when, out of nowhere, came a knight in shining Armani to rescue me with his cunning. I wasn’t really a cruel person, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel just a little bit of joy seeing the nasty landlord so thoroughly deflated and debased by someone who was clearly a better man.
The sight was so strange it actually took a while before my brain could comprehend what was happening. The guy from across the hall was actually coming to my aid. And with some style too. It was amazing how little he feared the landlord, considering he could have thrown us both out at any time. Yet there he stood, tall and proud as any hero, giving the evil little goblin what for.
I nearly fainted when my hero suggested that Katie and I stay with him until we figured things out. He clearly knew my name and Katie’s, but I had never heard his until the landlord read out the business card, which told me two important things at once. First was his name, Chase Stanford, and second, that he was a lawyer of no mean skill, working for Howell and Howell, which even I had heard of in my relatively short time in L.A.
Up until that point, I had only known my neighbor by what little I had seen. He was a well-dressed, somewhat intimidating guy who came home with a different woman each night. Usually two on the weekends.
I should have been a bit more hesitant when he suggested we stay with him. Though I was so tired and scared by then that I agreed without even thinking much about it. The prospect of a night on the street was much scarier than anything Chase might have planned.
“There you go, sir, ma’am,” the landlord said, nodding to Chase and me in turn when he was finished bringing my stuff up from the curb — at least the stuff that wasn’t broken. The landlord nodded again and beat a hasty retreat as though our roles had been reversed.
“This is beautiful,” I said, sitting down on Chase’s soft leather couch. I set Katie’s backpack down on the floor, having to grab her to keep her from wiggling away.
