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The obese man chuckled, his laptop bobbling like a ship on a jiggly sea as his stomach vibrated.
“No, it’s no worries,” he yawned, stretching both arms above his head. “Newbies to the city never get it. But yeah, we expect that money. It’s building management, you know,” he said conspiratorially.
I knew this was all fake. Building management had nothing to do with it. Chester wanted to keep the money for himself. But fortunately, I was able to keep the expression on my face neutral.
“Well, seeing that you understand that I’m new to New York, maybe we could work out a deal,” I said in an even tone. “Could I maybe pay an extra two hundred per month going forwards? That means I’d have the entire sum to you in five months. Or if we could reduce it, I’d be even more grateful. Maybe to seven or eight hundred? It’d make a world of a difference to me.”
But Chester shook his head regretfully.
“Naw, I’m sorry sweet’ums, but it’s building management calling the shots here. I’d happily reduce it to zero for you, but they’re expecting to be paid up there,” he said, pointing his finger to the ceiling. Where exactly was he referring to? Upstairs? My apartment? Heaven? But I decided to ignore it.
“Listen, I need to work out a deal,” came my firm voice. “I don’t have the money. There’s no one I can turn to, and I need to wait until I get my first paycheck to start making payments. So if you could help me out here ….”
To my surprise, Chester didn’t turn me down flat. Instead, he stretched again, showing his flabby white under arms, the yellow half-moons under his armpits gross and disgusting.
“Sure, sweet’ums,” he said casually again. “But if I reduce the amount, what do I get?”
I was flabbergasted.
“I thought you said it wasn’t up to you?” came my confused voice. “That you had no decision-making power over the amount?”
Chester’s expression grew crafty then. I could almost see him sensing an opportunity and tapping his fingers together while hissing, “My Precious.”
“Well, I have a little wiggle room,” he said suggestively. “Like maybe if you wiggle for a me a bit, I’ll reduce it fifty bucks.”
I stared at him.
“I’m sorry?” I asked with a dumbfounded expression on my face. “Wiggle what?” Was this some sort of New York-ese that I wasn’t understanding again?
Chester rolled his eyes like I was a country bumpkin wearing overalls with a piece of straw stuck through my teeth.
“You know, shake da bom-bom,” he said, jiggling a bit in his chair in demonstration. “Do a little dance. Make me want it.”
And the dam burst in my mind then. Make it more like the great floodwaters rushed over my consciousness, making me feel horrified, shocked, and disgusted all at once. Chester expected me to dance for him, and in return he’d lower my rent? Oh god, no. This was like out of some sick Law & Order episode where a ruthless predator preys upon the young girl new to the city.
But fortunately, I’ve seen a lot of episodes of Law & Order, not to mention Blue Bloods and old episodes of Cops. So I know when things aren’t kosher and I stared daggers at my new landlord.
“Absolutely not,” was my flat declaration, hands on hips. “No way.”
Chester shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Suit yourself,” he said, already flipping his laptop open once again. “But be sure to have your money ready tomorrow at noon. I’ll expect it hand delivered to this office,” he threw out there, stabbing a button on his keyboard. “In cash.”
And to my utter disgust, a woman’s moans filled the shabby office with lots of breathy “Unnh, unnh’s” and “Yeah, right there’s!” I shuddered before beating a hasty retreat.
“I’ll have the money for you,” I called once I was safely into the hallway. “Don’t you worry!”
But Chester didn’t even bother to look up, his eyes already fixed on the screen hungrily. And with another shudder, I slammed the door before bolting up the stairs back up to my apartment.
Oh god. What was I going to do? I certainly wouldn’t do a striptease for my new landlord because it was disgusting not to mention probably illegal. But I needed money, and unfortunately, there were no ready sources at hand. My job at the library didn’t start until next week, and besides, I wouldn’t receive my first paycheck for two weeks after that. So caught in a quandary, I let myself back into the apartment and looked at my stuff scattered around the shabby place. Was my first day actually going to be my last? And with a heavy heart, I sat down on an unopened cardboard box to think.
