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And it’s worth every drop of coffee poured.
We climb the steps and walk up to a gated archway. “The picture with the ad looked great,” I say as I grab and pull the gate handle to find that it’s locked. “Good security.”
“Here.” Livie pushes on a cracked, round doorbell to the right. It makes no sound and I’m sure it’s broken. I stifle back a yawn as we wait for someone to pass through.
Three minutes later, my hands are cupped around my mouth and I’m about to yell the landlord’s name when I hear shoes dragging across concrete. A middle-aged man with rumpled clothes and a scruffy face appears. His eyes are uneven, he’s mostly bald on top, and I swear one ear is bigger than the other. He reminds me of Sloth from that old eighties movie my father made us watch, Goonies. A classic, my dad used to say.
Sloth scratches his protruding gut and says nothing. I’ll bet he’s as intelligent as his movie twin.
“Hi, I’m Kacey Cleary,” I introduce myself. “We’re looking for Mr. Ta
“You gals’ sisters?”
“Our matching suitcases give it away?” I answer before I can stop myself. Get inside the gates before you let them know what a smart-ass you can be, Kace.
Luckily, Sloth’s lips curve upward. “Call me Ta
Livie and I share a shocked look. Sloth is our new landlord? With a loud clank and creak, he ushers us through the gate. Almost as an afterthought, he turns to me and extends his hand.
I freeze, staring at those meaty fingers, but not moving to take them. How am I unprepared for this?
Livie deftly swoops in and grabs hold of it with a smile, and I ease back a few steps so there’s no illusion that I’m having anything to do with this guy’s hand. Or anyone’s hand. Livie’s great at saving me.
If Ta
“There must be a full moon or something,” Ta
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“You’re the second apartment I’ve rented this past week through email. Same situation—desperate for a place, don’t wa
Well. How about that? Maybe Ta
“This one here just arrived this morning.” He thumbs a stubby finger at Apartment 1D before leading us to the apartment next to it with a gold ‘1C’ sign on it. His huge set of keys jangles as he searches for one in particular. “Now, I’ll tell you what I tell all my tenants. I’ve only got one rule but it’s a deal breaker. Keep thy peace! Don’t be throwin’ no wild parties with drugs and orgies—”
“Sorry, can you specify—what qualifies as an orgy in the State of Florida? Are threesomes okay? What if blow ups are involved, ’cause, you know …” I interject, earning a pause and a scowl from Ta
After clearing his throat, he goes on as if I didn’t speak. “No feuds, family or otherwise. I don’t have patience for that crap and I’ll boot you out faster than you can lie to me. Understand?”
I nod and bite my tongue, fighting the urge to hum the Family Feud theme song as Ta
“Cleaned and painted it myself. It’s not new, but it should give you what you asked for.”
The apartment’s small and meagerly furnished, with a green and white tiled kitchenette area lining the back. The white walls only enhance the hideous puce and orange floral couch. Cheap forest green carpet and the faint scent of moth balls pulls together the 70’s white trash look nicely. More importantly, it’s nothing like the picture in the ad. Surprise, surprise.
Ta
He wants his money. With a tight smile, I reach into the front pocket of my backpack and slide out a thick envelope. Livie ventures further into the apartment while I pay him. Ta
“Our parents are dead.” It comes out as harsh as I intend and it does the trick. Mind your own damn business, Ta
His face turns ashen. “Oh, um, sorry to hear that.” We stand uncomfortably for all of three seconds. I fold my hands under my armpits, making it clear that I have no intention of shaking any hands. When he spins on his heels and heads out the door, I release a small sigh. He can’t wait to get away from me, either. Over his shoulder, he hollers, “laundromat’s underground. I clean it once a week and expect all tenants to help out with keeping it tidy. I’m in 3F if you need anything.” He disappears, leaving the key sitting in the lock.
I find Livie investigating the medicine cabinet in a bathroom made for hobbits. I try to step in but there isn’t enough room for both of us. “New toilet. Old, repulsive shower,” I mutter, my foot tracing the grungy, cracked tile floor.
“I’ll take this room,” Livie offers, squeezing past me to head to the bedroom on the right. It’s empty except for a dresser and a twin bed with a peach crocheted spread over it. Black bars line the single window that faces the exterior of the building.
“You sure? It’s small.” I know without looking at the other room that this one is the smaller of the two. That’s how Livie is. Selfless.
“Yeah. It’s okay. I like small spaces.” She grins. She’s trying to make the best of it, I can tell.
“Well, when we throw those all-night ragers, you won’t be able to fit more than three guys in here at once. You do realize that, right?”
Livie tosses a pillow at me. “Fu
My bedroom is the same except it’s slightly bigger and has a double bed with an ugly-ass green knit blanket. I sigh, my nose scrunching with disappointment. “Sorry, Livie. This place looks nothing like the ad. Damn Ta
Livie snorts. “It’s not so bad, Kace.”
“You say that now, but when we’re fighting roaches for our bread …”
“You? Fighting? Big shocker.”
I laugh. Few things make me laugh anymore. Livie, trying to be sarcastic is one of them. She tries to pull off airy and cool. She ends up sounding like one of those radio a
“This place sucks, Livie. Admit it. But we’re here and it’s all we can afford right now. Miami’s freakin’ expensive.”
Her hand slides into mine and I squeeze it. It’s the only one I can handle touching. It’s the only one that doesn’t feel dead. Sometimes I have a hard time letting it go. “It’s perfect, Kace. Just a little small and mothbally and green, but we’re not that far from the beach! That’s really what we wanted, right?” Livie stretches her arms above her head and groans. “So, now what?”
“Well, for starters, let’s get you enrolled in the high school this afternoon so that big brain of yours doesn’t shrink,” I say, popping open my suitcase to empty its contents. “After all, when you’re making a bazillion dollars and curing cancer, you’ll need to send money my way.” I rifle through my clothes. “I need to enroll at a gym. Then I’ll go see how much Spam and creamed corn I can buy for an hour with my sweaty, hot body on the corner.” Livie shakes her head. Sometimes she doesn’t appreciate my sense of humor. Sometimes I think she wonders if I’m serious. I stoop to yank the covers from my bed. “And I definitely need to bleach the shit out of this entire place.”