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I plant my hands on my hips. “Are you blamingmefor this?”
Desmond swivels to face me fully, his brows lowering. “What’s with the attitude? I was just asking a question.”
“Oh, he was just asking a question! Ex-cuseme. I must have been mistaken. I thought you were telling me thatyourplumbing issues weremyfault.”
How.Howcan this man take me from zero to furious in 3.2 seconds? It’s just his, his, his… It’s justhim! He’s so big and menacing, and he thinks he can intimidate me. He’s the reason I’m in financial trouble. He’s the reason I had to move my daughter across town way after her bedtime. He’s the reason I have to open the barbershop for longer hours and why I’m also looking for a part-time job.
And now he’s blaming me.
My father has a name for my temper: he calls her the dragon. I hoard my hurts like gold and jewels, sleeping on them until someone wakes me up. Then, when she’s awoken (for example, by a big clod of a man), the mythical beast spreads her wings inside my body, scales scraping against the inside of my skin, reminding me of all the reasons I’m angry.
Desmond Thomas has a special knack for waking up the dragon. One dark look from him, and I’m ready to breathe fire.
“Listen, Mia,” he says with false patience, which just annoys me more. “Leaks often cause damp smells. Stains. I was just asking if you’d noticed anything. I wasn’t accusing you of anything. There’s no need to get prissy.”
Prissy. He just called meprissy.
“No. I hadn’t noticed anything. Oh, wait.” I give him a grimace of a smile. “Apart from the mold in the bathroom, which I called the property manager about…oh, a dozen or so times? Someone finally came by to slap a lick of paint over it.” I start counting off on my fingers for emphasis. “Then there’s the fly screen in my daughter’s bedroom that never got fixed, so I had to do it myself, and got yelled at in one of the yearly inspections. There was the exhaust fan above the stove that stopped working, and I never gotanyresponse about that either. That cost me nearly five hundred dollars to replace, and when I informed the manager I’d take it out of the rent, he threatened to take me to court. It wasn’t until I asked Mr. Thomas about it during one of his haircuts that I stopped getting threats of lawsuits. So my apologies, Desmond, for beingprissy. If I didn’t love your grandparents so much, and if there wasanywherein this town that I could afford that wasn’t a total dump, I would move. Unfortunately, someassholejust hiked my rent so much that I no longer have any savings.”
Desmond’s chest heaves. His nostrils flare. Dark, dark eyes stare at me across the space. “If you’d told me any of this—”
I put up my palm. “Terribly sorry, sir, but it isn’t my responsibility to inform you of the history ofyourproperties. Go ask that useless property manager for the records before you start coming at me, blaming me for all kinds of things that aren’t my fault. I’ve put in countless maintenance requests over the years, and most of them went ignored until I spent my own money on them. I’ve been threatened with court so many times, I came to expect it. This apartment would be in shambles if I didn’t put my own funds and time into it. I’ve spentthousandsthat never got reimbursed.” I suck in a deep breath, fuming. He has theaudacityto come at me with accusations, to make me feel small and powerless and weak. Gah!I hate this man. “And you know what? Fuck you.”
“Mia—” He takes a step toward me.
The plumber whistles. “You guys need me to leave the room? Give you a little privacy?” Fuming, I glare at the man, who grins. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Ugh! I’ll ma’am him. I’ll ma’am him right in the face!
Spinning on my heels, I stomp back through the short hallway and slam the door. Back in my barbershop, I turn in a circle looking for a pillow or a blanket or something soft that I can shove against my face to muffle my scream. Not finding anything, I march to the front door intending to flip my sign over and unlock the door to open the shop. Who knows, maybe my cheery personality will attract new customers.
And the lights go out.
I pause, standing in the middle of the room, waiting for them to come back on. A loud swear comes from the apartment out back, moments before the door opens. Desmond strides through, stopping short when he sees me staring.
“The power went out,” he says, stating the obvious.
I blink. “Do you think I’m an idiot or something?”
“Why are you being so—”
“Choose your next words very carefully, dickhead.”
“I’m trying to be nice!”
“Nice? You’re trying to benice?”
Des shoves a hand through his hair and turns his back on me. His shoulders heave as he takes a deep breath, hands dropping to fist at his sides. Another deep breath, and he lifts his head to the ceiling.
The dragon inside me huffs, sending ash and smoke swirling around me.
Desmond spins slowly, meeting my gaze with his own black eyes. “You’ll stay in the condo on Seventh Ave for as long as you need to,” he informs me. He points over his shoulder at the back door leading to my old apartment. “I’m going to make sure all the issues in this place are fixed. If you could send over a list of the maintenance requests that still haven’t been addressed, and a record of what you’ve paid, with receipts if possible, I can make sure everything is sorted out and you get what you’re owed. I’m sorry your experience with the old property manager was so poor. You weren’t the only one who has a long laundry list of complaints, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to fix it.”
I sip in little shallow breaths, waiting for the other shoe to drop. People don’t usually apologize like that without some sort of qualifier.
Desmond stays silent, watching me.
I rock back on my heels and give him a nod. “Okay.”
