Desperately Seeking Landlord

by Smeltzer, Micalea

  Selfishly, I love this time with my son. I know one day, probably sooner than I’d like, he won’t think it’s awesome to lie in his bed every night and read a book together. It’s the moments like this I know I’ll cherish forever.

  He nods, burrowing under his blankets. I move some things out of the way so I can lie down. Crossing my feet at the ankles I crack open the book to where we left off and begin reading. Tobias scoots closer to me, laying his head on my shoulder so he can read as I go.

  The thought of Shannon dragging me to court again terrifies me.

  I’ve fought so hard for my son from the moment I knew he existed, but I’m scared in the eye of the law that won’t be seen because I’m a man. That’s un-fucking-fair.

  Spending time with Tobias isn’t a chore, it’s a joy, and I know she really doesn’t want to be involved in his life. I wish for his sake she was genuine. He deserves to have a mom in his life.

  Maybe that’s why he’s so determined to make something happen with Miranda for me. My mom might be around, but I know it’s not the same for him. The only blessing is, he doesn’t know any other way. Shannon was never around so it’s not like he lost something. However, he could gain something.

  But I never planned to add to our world.

  My feelings for Miranda are growing, but are they headed down the path to something like marriage?

  I hadn’t planned on it, but who fucking knows. My thoughts are a mess.

  “Dad?” Tobias interrupts me, lifting his head.

  “Yeah?” I lay the open book on my chest.

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” I protest.

  He shakes his head. “You could be happier.”

  I frown. I’m not lying when I say I’m happy, but kids … they’re pretty perceptive, and even though I don’t want to, maybe I should listen to him.

  21

  Miranda

  Swinging my door open, my backpack threatening to fall off one shoulder, I come face to face with a surprised Jamie, hand poised ready to knock.

  “Hi!” I cry, breathless, since I’m running late and in a mad dash to leave. I certainly wasn’t expecting to open my door and find Jamie waiting. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” He points inside at my messy apartment. I’m swamped with schoolwork, which means no time to clean. Besides, cleaning sucks.

  “Nope. I’m in a hurry. I’m going to be late for class.”

  Thank God, I shut Fettuccine in my bedroom.

  I close the door behind me and lock it.

  “I’ll follow you to your car, is that okay?”

  “Mhmm.” I power walk down the hall and he follows.

  He’s able to keep up all too easily with his long legs. “I … uh … wanted to ask you something.”

  “Um, okay?” I start down the stairs. “Why’d you have to come all the way here to ask me something? You have a phone. Text me like a normal human being.”

  He chuckles, but it sounds strained. When I glance behind at him I find his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders tense.

  We reach the bottom floor and head for the parking lot.

  “I wanted to ask you on a date. A real date. Dinner. Maybe a movie. Or dancing. Or … um … whatever you want.”

  I freeze and he bumps into the back of me.

  I whip around and he backs up a few steps. “Did I seriously hear you right? I thought we went on a date? You showed me your plane and how you work your landing gear.” I eye his crotch.

  He wets his lips with his tongue. “It’s as close to a date as I’ve had in over a decade, but it’s not the correct way to do things. I’m still holding myself back from you … from myself … God, from everything.” He runs his fingers through his wavy reddish-brown hair, letting his arm fall to his side. “I don’t know how to do this. To be a good guy who takes girls on proper dates, who isn’t fearful of rejection, and the pain of losing someone they love.”

  I really have to go, but I can’t help but linger in the parking lot with him.

  “My son made a good point,” he continues, taking a step closer to me. “I could be happier, and I realized, when I spend time with you I am. You make me smile and laugh. I don’t feel so jaded. I think it’s time I stop being so scared and take a leap of faith. So, yeah, here I am.” He spreads his arms and releases a breath, his eyes wary. “Can you see now why I didn’t text this?”

  “So, we go on a real date and what then?”

  He shrugs. “We go on another and maybe another until you decide I’m too much of a pain in the ass to continue to see, and then we break things off for good.”

  Despair fills me at the idea of never spending time with Jamie again.

  “And what if we decide not to break things off? What if we decide it feels right?”

  He takes another step closer to me. “Then I guess this little leap of faith of mine might pay off in a big way.” Another step. His shoes press to the edge of my combat boots. “I’d like to think I’m the kind of guy who can get the girl.” He cups my cheek and I melt into his touch like a puddle of goo. Then he presses his forehead to mine, looking down at me reverently. “My son thinks he’s the one holding me back from having someone to care about, but it’s me. It’s always been about me. Fuck, Miranda, I’m absolutely terrified of you and what this could mean, but I have to ask you on a date before Tobias does it for me.”

  He laughs and I laugh too.

  “You are the most confusing man, ever.”

  It’s been a week since I saw him at Petco. We texted some, but he seemed distant. I think I understand why now. He’s had a lot on his mind.

  “I confuse myself.”

  “So, I say yes—then what?”

  He cracks a tiny grin. It’s small, barley noticeable with our foreheads still bent together. I’d like to think it’s a fissure in his rock hard exterior.

  “Then I woo you.”

  22

  Miranda

  “Wait, you’re going on a date—a real date, with Jamie?”

  Lou shoves clothes on the rack aside, staring through the now empty slot at me on the opposite side.

  I pull out a dress, holding it to my frame.

  “Yes, who’d you think I was going with when I said I needed a dress for a date?”

  She frowns, stepping around the rack to join me. “I don’t know, I just didn’t think it’d be him.”

  I’m not mad at Lou for her lack of support. I know she’s only coming from a protective place, not a vindictive one.

  I return the dress to the rack and turn to her. I know I owe her a real, honest explanation.

  “I like Jamie.” I hold up a hand when she opens her mouth to speak. “I don’t know what exactly that entails, or where it’ll go, but I have to give it a try. It’s hard for you to believe, but he does make me happy.”

  “But a couple of months ago you hated his guts more than me. What changed?”

  I move to another aisle, looking at a full skirt in a cobalt blue color.

  “I can’t explain it.” She looks less than pleased by my response, but it’s the truth. “I was mad at him for feeling used, for not giving us a proper ending even though it was only sex before, but he explained some things and it put a lot of my insecurities to rest.”

  “I don’t want all the details, but I need more than that.”

  With a clatter the skirt goes back on the rack. “He said he rubbed the other woman in my face because he was scared of the feelings he was developing for me.”

  Lou snorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Likely story.”

  I pause, considering my words. I don’t want to get in a fight with her over a guy. Hoes before bros, always.

  “I’m not asking you to be Team Jamie. I want you on Team Miranda and right now I’m taking a leap of faith.” I smile to myself, realizing I used the same words Jamie did with me.

  Lou shakes her head and pulls me into a hug. “Team Miran
da, always.”

  I hug her back, relieved to have my best friend on my side. “I need to see where this goes,” I murmur into her shoulder, holding on tight.

  She pulls back, holding onto my arms. “Okay, then let’s find you one bomb ass dress, get your nails done, make sure everything is waxed and shiny, so when he picks you up he loses his mind.”

  I snort. “I can make him lose his mind without all that.”

  She laughs, shaking her head. She drapes an arm over my shoulders, leading me further into the store. “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

  * * *

  The white dress I bought looks fucking amazing on me. It hugs every curve and shows enough cleavage to be tantalizing, but not too much to be risqué. The thin spaghetti straps rest against my shoulders. They don’t do much to hold up the dress, or my girls, but they add a small bit of something that helps make the dress.

  I once read that big girls shouldn’t wear white, but dare I say they’re liars?

  I can pull off whatever I want and I look sexy tonight. I figured since this is supposed to be an actual date, I should go all out.

  Beyond the dress, I’m wearing a strappy pair of heals, a gold necklace at my throat, and some small hoop earrings. I curled my hair, but pulled the top half back with a silver butterfly clip, letting a few pieces fall out to frame my face. I spent way more time on my makeup than normal and I look like a dewy bronze goddess if I do say so myself.

  I know I didn’t have to go through all this trouble. Jamie’s seen me lounging around in pajamas with no bra. But I did this for me, because I wanted to feel hot as fuck.

  It’s taken me a long time to feel confident in my skin.

  I don’t know when the change first happened, but I think it was subtle in the beginning.

  Now, I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of me.

  I feel good about myself. I know I’m beautiful, smart, and a boss ass bitch. It’s like one day I finally woke up and the stress and worry of how my pants fit and if I’d ever be as thin as the women magazines claim are desirable just melted away.

  It’s been freeing.

  I’m a butterfly finally spreading her wings, and it didn’t take a man for me to do it.

  I found it within myself, because everything we ever need to succeed in life exists insides us.

  Smiling at my reflection I swipe some gloss over my lipstick and grab a coat and my purse. It’s not technically fall yet, but the weather doesn’t know that. The nights have been unseasonably cool and I don’t want to freeze to death.

  I hear a knock on my apartment door and I take a deep breath.

  “I’ll see you later, Fettuccine.” I scratch the purring kitten behind his ears, closing my bedroom door behind me so there’s no chance of Jamie spotting him. I purposely hid all the cat stuff littering my apartment.

  I thought it’d be awkward if he showed up, saw the cat stuff, and we ended up in an argument before our official first date.

  I swing the door open in a rather dramatic fashion, a breathless, “Hi,” leaving my lips.

  I look Jamie up and down while he does the same to me.

  If Fettuccine wasn’t currently occupying my bedroom—I’m too scared to put him in the spare where all my art supplies is—I would pull him inside and ask him to do wicked things to my body with his devilish mouth.

  He’s dressed in a pair of nice jeans—probably designer, because I’ve never seen jeans look like these—a white button down shirt tucked into them, topped off with a gray jacket, and shiny chestnut colored leather shoes.

  Finally making my way up the column of his neck, to his lightly stubbled cheeks and jaw, his lips quirk into a half smile as I study him. His reddish-brown hair tumbles over his forehead in that annoying way that you know is effortless—whereas my effortless hair look is called rolling out of bed looking like Medusa.

  “You are beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  Stupid cheeks stop blushing!

  “Tobias said that in order for this to be a real date, I had to bring you flowers, but flowers die, so I got you this succulent instead.”

  I laugh as he pulls out a beautiful succulent with a purple hue in a tiny white pot.

  “Succulents can die too,” I remark playfully, taking it from him.

  The silly plant makes me ridiculously giddy. It feels like proof that something real is building between us and this living plant is like the budding of our new relationship.

  Oh my God my mom has quoted way too many self-help books to me.

  “Let me set this somewhere.” I hold up a finger for him to wait, but of course he comes in, closing the door behind him.

  I look around for a place to put the little plant, preferably where Fettuccine won’t get it.

  My heels clack on the kitchen floor tiles and I feel the wall of heat that is Jamie follow me closely.

  I rise on my tiptoes to set it on one of the open shelves in the kitchen.

  “Let me get it.” Jamie’s large palm settles on the curve of my ass, his front plastered to my back. With his other hand he easily plucks the succulent out of my hand and places it on the shelf.

  His now succulent-free hand skims over my shoulder and down my arm, eliciting a shiver from my body.

  “If I wasn’t trying to be a proper gentleman I’d tell you to forget the date, because fuck, Miranda, you’re sexy as hell and I want to peel this dress off you.”

  I turn around in his arms, placing my hands on his chest. My butt bumps into the corner of the counter.

  “I feel like we’re doing this whole thing backwards.”

  He tilts his head. “How so?”

  “Well, you said you were going to make love to me on your plane, which you did.”

  “And?” His eyes narrow speculatively.

  “You weren’t scared to make love to me, but you were to ask me on a date? Doesn’t that seem backwards to you?”

  He sighs, looking away. I know I’ve caught him off guard, but at least I know he’s not entirely offended or he would’ve let me go.

  Returning his gaze back to me, he says, “You’re right. I think the physical stuff is easier for me when it comes to you, because that’s what we started as. It seems easier to share myself sexually than personally. With sex, it’s a feeling, a sensation. But something like this, a date, it’s face to face. It’s words. It’s getting to know each other on a deeper level. There is no hiding with dating. Eventually you’ll see every flaw of mine, every fear I hide.”

  I release a small laugh, softly stroking his stubbled cheek gently. “I hate to inform you, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen all your flaws long before I ever had sex with you. You’re kind of an asshole.”

  He chuckles, placing his hand on top of mine. “That’s not me. It’s a front, a fraud, to keep people away. So I don’t have to get to know them, or talk about my life. The things that mean something to me, I like to keep them close and not share them with others. After my ex showed her true colors, I guess it made me jaded.” He pulls my hand from his face, curling our fingers together. “The real flaws I’m afraid of are the stupid things. Like always leaving the toilet seat up, or how I can’t make a cup of decent fucking coffee to save myself. Things that, over time, might become irritating.”

  I take his other hand, so now we’re holding both hands. “Don’t overthink things. This is new for both of us. Neither of us are dating pros. I think it’s better to take things one day, or maybe date is more apt, at a time.”

  “You’re right.” He kisses the tip of my nose not to mess up my blood red lipstick.

  “Are you gonna take me on this date now, lover boy, or not?”

  He shakes his head and gives a small snort of laughter. “Let’s get you out of here, before I decide to get you out of your dress instead.”

  * * *

  Jamie and I stroll the streets of downtown hand in hand. Lights are strung around the trees and the restaurants lining the walking area are all packed. We already ate at
some fancy Inn I’d never heard of, and I was thankful I did decide to dress up. After the delicious meal, Jamie told me he had something else planned.

  Color me intrigued.

  “Where are we going?” My whole body vibrates with energy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive. It’s a silly thing, to have someone make you so giddy, but with Jamie I feel this excitement I don’t think I’ve ever had. I see everything in a new and different light.

  “It’s this way.” He tugs me down a street, walking on the sidewalk passed parked cars and traffic. Ahead of us is the library, the tall looming dome above it haloed by a full moon.

  “Come on, tell me,” I plead, tugging on his hand as we walk.

  He tilts his head down, giving me a crooked smile. “Such a nosy thing you are. We’re almost there.”

  We turn left, walk a little farther, and cross the street.

  “Here we are,” he declares, stopping outside a small art studio.

  There are already people inside and I realize it’s one of those paint and sip parties.

  I look from the lit up storefront to Jamie. “We’re going to paint?” I can’t stop smiling.

  He shrugs. “I showed you what I love, my planes. Now I want you to show me what you love. You taught Tobias, but not me. I’m feeling a bit left out.”

  “Aww.” I pat his cheek mockingly. “Jealous of a seven-year-old? Why am I not surprised?”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “Get in there.” He smacks my ass and opens the door so I can go in first.

  The smell of paint hits me first, a mix of car exhaust fumes and a meadow. A lot of people hate the smell of paint, but I love it. It’s my home.

  “Oh, our last two.” The woman whom I assume is the teacher claps her hands together and ushers Jamie and me to the final easels in the back row, passing us large aprons to put on. Hopefully it’ll be enough to protect my new white dress. “Cecilia will be handing out the wine and hors d’oeuvres after instructions.”

  She flits back to the front of the room and with her small posture and pale pink hair I’m reminded of a pixie.