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“Yeah, no repairs here. Everything needs to be replaced.”
When we enter the locked door at the far end, dust takes over once again. It’s clearly been blocked off for a long time. What a waste of space. A hallway takes us past three rooms that appear to have been used as classrooms in the past until it opens to a large space cluttered with boxes and stacks of paperwork.
Dylan reaches to pick up a page while I find the light switches and illuminate the mess. “Dude, these are rental applications.” He shuffles through the box. “Proof of income statements, references. This shit shouldn’t be here. There are social security numbers and everything.”
“Add a shredder to our shopping list of supplies,” I reply, exploring the folding tables and chairs stacked against the back wall. Some of them are usable but it’s definitely not enough chairs for tomorrow’s meeting.
Now that I have an idea of what we need and where to start, we head back outside to see the sun has already set. Dark at five o’clock is the worst. The group of people must’ve decided we aren’t a show worth watching since most have dispersed. There are still plenty of people out in the neighborhood when Dylan and I drive around to check things out.
A man suddenly steps in front of my truck, and I slam the brakes just in time not to hit him. He slaps the hood and slurs, “Watch where you’re going, pretty boy.”
Dressed in only underwear and slippers, he mumbles to himself about idiots while he makes his way to a trailer across the street, his considerable beer gut leading the way.
“Aw, he thinks you’re pretty,” Dylan says. “You made a friend already.”
A woman walking by with an old-fashioned baby carriage calls out to us. “Don’t mind him! Drunker than a skunk.” She pauses to scrutinize us. “We don’t call the law around here on people, you know.”
Dylan raises an eyebrow at me. “Why did that sound like a warning?”
“Because it was.” I give her a nod. “Have a good night.” She pushes the carriage up to one of the trailers.
“Kind of cold to be out walking a baby around after dark, isn’t it?” he says, once she’s out of earshot.
“No worries there,” I chuckle, tilting my head for him to look at what she’s doing as we cruise past. She has three cats in her arms and a fourth pops its head out of the carriage. “I think we met the resident crazy cat lady.”
“Better than Paw-Paw Underpants back there. I think he had a ball hanging out.” He shudders and shakes his head.
“Well, you can double check when we go to do repairs. I’m sure he’s on the list.”
He shifts in his seat as I pull out of the trailer park and head to the home improvement store. “Great, if I end up chained to some psycho’s toilet, I’m going to kill you.”
“How? You’ll be chained to a toilet.”
CHAPTER
THREE
MAREN
It’s almost time for me to go to work and I’m still seething over the situation with the landlord. The nerve of him trying to get me to hand out flyers for him. He probably thinks he can recruit residents for all kinds of free labor to make his job easier. Not happening.
It’s bad enough that half the women here who wanted to beat his ass are now ready to jump him for a different reason. As if his looks change things.
“He’s hot though, you have to admit that,” Lila says, grinning over at me from my couch. “And tall! You like tall guys.”
It’s true. Not only because my five feet ten inches height scares away shorter guys, but because they usually have a hangup about it no matter how much I assure them I don’t care. Even guys who are over six feet tall seem to feel intimidated.
“I don’t care what he looks like. You shouldn’t either. You’re supposed to be the reasonable one when it comes to guys, remember? Can’t you see what he’s doing? Coming in here dressed like he was and with an old truck. He knew he was walking into enemy territory and he’s trying to pretend to be one of us. Like there isn’t a silver spoon stuck up his ass. He and his family are the reason this place is a shithole and they had to be sued into doing anything about it. He’s a rich entitled slumlord. Don’t fall for his act.”
“She’s right,” Cara replies. “If the judge made him come here after his father died, he must be just as responsible.” She grins over at Lila. “That being said, you’ll get no judgement from me if you decide to go work off our next month’s rent with him.”
“And I’m the one with questionable taste in men,” I scoff.
Lila shakes her head. “Nobody said that. It’s not questionable. Bad taste. You have bad taste in men. Besides, I didn’t say I was going to hit on him. I just said he’s hot.”
“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve sworn off men for almost four months now and have no plans to date anytime soon. No more losers.”
“It’s true,” Cara says. “We were at the gas station the other day and a guy hit on her. He had bad tattoos and was riding a kid’s bike and she totally walked away. I was so proud.”
