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“We can’t catch a break, can we? Look at this shit,” she says and passes the paper to Wesleigh.
“Am I reading this correctly? The new owner is raising our rent by four hundred dollars when our lease renews next month?” Wesleigh lets out a deep sigh and hands the paper back. “Kat, we care barely afford to live here now.”
“Four hundred dollars is a lot of money. With me being gone for the next couple weeks, there’s no time for us to even look for something cheaper, much less move. Plus, we’d have to have a deposit and first and last month’s rent up front. I just don’t—” Tears fill Kat’s eyes.
“Jesus, seems we can’t win for losing. It’s not like this place is spectacular either,” Wesleigh adds. “Which reminds me. I need to call in the stupid refrigerator. The ice maker is broken again. If they want to raise our rent, the least they could do is put in a new one.”
“Maybe I should cancel my trip. We could use the money I was planning to take with me and find us someplace else to live. It might not be cheaper, but it’s bound to be better than here. New owner or not, no one’s going to fix this place up.” Kat walks over to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottled water. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
Wesleigh places her hand on her hip. “I will not let you back out of your trip. You’ve waited for this opportunity for a long time. You will go to Vegas, and you will have the time of your life.”
“But—”
“Nope,” Wesleigh says. “You’re. Going. To. Vegas.”
“How in the world are we going to come up with an extra four hundred dollars a month?”
“We’ll figure something out. Even if we have to go talk to the new owner and explain our situation. With this being a college town, how do they thinkanyonecan afford that much of an increase?” Wesleigh plops down on the worn sofa and leans back against the oversized cushions. “I don’t know about you, but I shouldn’t have had that last drink. My head is all over the place.”
“I know the feeling,” Kat sighs and takes the spot next to her. “Too bad I’ve never had a thing for older men.”
“Shut up!!” Wesleigh teases and tosses one of the throw-pillows her way. “He was very nice to look at but he’s way too old for you.”
“I know, but when God created him, he knew exactly what he was doing. Absolute gorgeousness!”
Chapter 3
Jameson
“I have no life,” Jameson mutters to himself while he’s waiting in the drive thru line at the coffee shop Sunday morning. Looking in his rearview mirror, the cars behind him are wrapped around the building as far as he can see. There are a million other things he could be doing—playing a round of golf, going for a run in the park—but after tossing and turning all night, one idea after another popping into his head, he figured it was best to drive over to the office and input some of it into his files.
“Here ya go, sir,” the barista leans out the window and hands him his steaming cup. “And here’s your bacon, egg, and cheese croissant. Be careful, they’re both a little warm.”
Eager to get his first sip, Jameson lifts the paper cup to his lips as he pulls away. “Son of a—” he cries out and quickly drops the cup down into his cupholder. Coffee splashes through the tiny opening on the lid and runs down the side of the cup. Grabbing the couple napkins the barista had stuck inside his bag, he does his best to wipe up the mess. Suddenly, a horn blasts and he jerks his head up in time to steer his car back into his lane.
He sweeps his hand through the air and apologizes out loud, even though he’s the only one in his vehicle. “Sorry, sorry,” he says as the car drives past.
Seeing the blonde hair of the person in the other vehicle, he can’t help but do a doubletake. Could it be? Is she the same woman from the bar Friday night?
He’s still kicking himself for not getting her name, but in reality, she was way too young for him anyway once he saw her up close. What could he possibly have to offer to someone like her?
Arriving at his office a few minutes later, he eats his breakfast then sets to work writing down several ideas. It’s kind of sad, the one apartment complex he was quite certain he wasn’t going to keep, suddenly has him second guessing his options.
Of the six complexes, Magnolia Park was one of the worst as far as what needed to be done to improve it. And after driving through the complex late Friday evening and seeing how badly the place needed renovating, selling it off might not be the best idea after all. Doing a few minor upgrades along with a fresh coat of paint could do wonders for the place. Jameson had already taken care of the notice for the rent increase, so that alone would help recoup what he was willing to spend.
His ultimate goal was to make the place at least appear desirable to live. If phase one went over well, then he might consider phase two…maybe. He’d meet with a contractor tomorrow and go from there.
A little after two, Jameson’s phone rings, pulling him from the deep concentration he’s been in since coming into work. He almost doesn’t answer it since it’s a number he doesn’t recognize or have saved to his phone, but at the last minute he decides to pick up.
“Jameson York,” he says and slips the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he shuts down his computer.
“Hi, Mr. York,” the mousy voice says on the other end. “I’m really sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I’m not sure what I need to do. It’s starting to get out of hand.”
There’s a long pause while he waits for the woman to finish speaking.
“Out of hand?” he asks for further clarification when she doesn’t say anything more.
“Yes, the phone calls. As soon as I’m done with one, my phone rings again. They just won’t stop.”
