Room 4 Rent: A Steamy Romantic Comedy

by Shey Stahl

  “Oh please, ya lying fuck. You haven’t been laid all season unless it’s by your goddamn pillow.”

  Forest takes a bottle of Gatorade and chucks it at his head. “Fuck you, bro. You don’t know shit.”

  Ez tosses a towel at me. “So you in? Rula Bula?”

  I shrug, not sure if I feel like going out.

  “You’re going out,” Noah tells me, handing me the game ball. “Them big-league hos are gonna be all over your dick. Turn on the charm. All you have to do is walk in, and we’re all getting laid tonight.”

  “I don’t want a one-night stand,” I groan, rolling the ball around in my hand.

  “You don’t have to do anything.” Ez strips down completely naked. “Just be there. We’ll do the rest and collect them runs for you.”

  I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but I do know I want to escape reality tonight. While I could certainly use some emotionless pussy, I don’t want the drama that comes with it. You’d think I’d be excited over the win or putting my name at the top of the college record books.

  Truth is, I don’t know how I feel about any of it. How can one person have such a promising career ahead of him and be so completely lost at the same time?

  When a baserunner successfully advances to the next base while the pitcher is delivering the ball to home plate. It’s referred to as stealing home.

  SYDNEY

  “Hey, you go to ASU, right?” Sadie stands in the foyer, sopping wet and staring at the girl who fucked my husband for a year. And all along, my baby sister had been going to school with her. “Heckman’s physiology class, right?”

  Betrayal.

  Sadness.

  Numbness.

  Which is stronger?

  Fuck if I know. Look at my face and tell me because I honestly don’t know anymore.

  All that sadness, all that regret I had for not trying to fix our broken marriage went out the fucking window with how shitty of a human being the man I married was. Had he even thought of me and Tatum at all?

  Remi turns her head and glances at Sadie. She wipes tears away. “Yeah. Oh, I know you, huh?”

  Sadie’s eyes drift to mine. Waiting.

  “Cool.” I slap my hands on my knees and squeeze. “You know her, and Collin apparently knew her pussy. Awesome.”

  A few things happen next. Sadie’s face pales. Remi cries harder, and Tatum screeches in the background. “Pussssssy!” she yells, running past us and up the stairs, buck-ass naked.

  I want to laugh, because you have to admit that was pretty funny at the timing, but I’m mortified. Not at Tatum, but this is my life now. Every day, a different drama.

  Between deep breaths and an impending panic attack, the front door opens. I hope it’s Jesus to tell me this is all a joke.

  “I brought pizza and wine!” Nahla announces, kicking the door shut with her foot. She spots Remi on the couch, midfist wine pump in the air, and stops. “Who are you?”

  “Collin’s girlfriend,” I answer for her. No sense in beating around the bush here.

  The words hang in the air, but not long enough before both of them, and I do mean both of them, Sadie and Nahla say together, “Oh, yeah, saw that one coming.”

  I’m not even joking when I say that they both literally said it at the same time.

  “What?” I gasp through tears. “Really?”

  Nahla glances at Sadie. “Why are you wet? Your nipples are scowling at me.”

  “Went swimming with the kid.” She yanks at her shirt clinging to her chest. “Thank fuck, you brought pizza. I’m starving.”

  Standing, I move from the couch in what feels like some kind of dream state. I take the wine and the pizza in passing. “I can’t be sober another minute of today.”

  Setting them on the counter, I begin to pull out the ingredients to make Tatum’s favorite snack. Toasted Cheerios. If you’ve never had them, you’ll thank me later. Google it and thank me. No, seriously, you’re fucking welcome.

  I toast the Cheerios in a pan, pour the sugar into a bowl and try to recall the last week.

  “What are you baking?” Nahla asks, rubbing my back.

  Tears run down my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I was crying, but I am. Pouring the hot buttery Cheerio mixture into the bowl, I sniff. “Toasted Cheerios.” Sighing, I begin to mix it into the sugar and cinnamon. “How’d I miss this, Nahla? He said he’d been working late every night, and I believed him.”

  Nahla’s lips flatten. “That’s not your fault, Syd. You can’t blame yourself for him being a complete douche.”

  I set the spoon down on the marble countertops Collin splurged for when we built this house. He didn’t spare a single expense when building. I smack the countertop with my palm. “Had he bought all this fancy shit in this house so I wouldn’t question his infidelity? Had he been trying to cushion me for this blow? Did he think I’d be one of those wives that thought, oh, well, I have a beautiful brand-new home in a gated community and any material possession I’d ever wanted, she won’t complain if I’m sticking my cock in someone else? Yes, bitch, I care!”

  “I—”

  “Was it something I did?” I interrupt her. “Had I ignored him? Gained too much weight?” Nahla frowns at that one. “Was it because we didn’t have sex enough? Now that I think about it, I can’t even remember the last time he told me he loved me.”

  “Men can be assholes, Syd.”

  I stare into her big black eyes. Nahla is Brazilian. Jet-black hair with a wideset pair of black eyes. Her skin is creamy olive, and her ass is Instagram-worthy. Headstrong, exotically beautiful, she can put any man in their place when needed. She bleeds confidence, defends her morals until she’s blue in the face, and doesn’t have a single insecurity that she leads on to. She’s worked harder than anyone I’ve ever met, which explains why she’s a lawyer. No man in their right mind would ever cheat on her, and if they did, she’d cut their fucking dick off.

  “Kenneth wouldn’t cheat on you,” I point out, raising an eyebrow, challenging her to disagree with me.

  “No, he wouldn’t. Only because he’s terrified of me.”

  I struggle with opening the wine bottle in front of me.

  “Here. Let me.” Nahla takes the bottle from my hands. “I like my wine without glass.”

  I let her take it because I, too, like my wine without glass. And the last thing I need is to cut myself. News flash, I’m broke.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “I have a plan, but tonight, we’re not going to worry. We’re gonna drink this wine and forget about that lying, cheating bastard.”

  Her words send a clog of emotion through me. “I’m supposed to be mourning him, not hating him.”

  Pouring three glasses of wine, Nahla opens the pizza box with the other hand, pulling out a slice. “The only reason I’d be mourning that asshole would be Tatum losing her father. He was a bad husband. Bad.”

  I take my wine in hand, swirling it around in the glass. “Was he though? Or was I a bad wife for not seeing this sooner?”

  “That’s crazy.” She chews her pizza slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re an amazing mom.”

  “Wife. Was I good a wife though?”

  “You didn’t cheat on him, so that’s better than him.”

  Sadie walks in with Tatum. “Is Collin’s mom coming to get her tonight?”

  I nod and take Tatum in my arms. Thankfully she’s fully clothed now in what looks to be a lace dress, clip-on earrings, and bright pink lipstick. “Yeah, she asked to spend some time with her.”

  “Oh, I think she might be here.”

  Tatum spots the bowl of Cheerios. “Yay, teets!”

  Sadie looks at her, curious. “What’d she just say?”

  “Teets.”

  “As in….”

  I gesture to the bowl. “Toasted Cheerios.”

  Tatum takes a handful and shoves them in her mouth. I smile at her, loving that Collin was a shitty human, but he gave
me the best possible gift in the world. A daughter.

  “Why don’t you eat some pizza before Grandma Karen takes you?” Don’t laugh. Yes, my mother-in-law’s name is Karen. And yes, she fits the mold. I’m sorry to all you Karen’s out there who suddenly hate their name due to this stereotype. If it makes you feel better, at least your name isn’t Jeffrey Dahmer. I went to high school with a kid who had that name, and he had to change it.

  Tatum squirms in my arms, attempting to shove a few more Cheerios in. “Okay.”

  I set her on her feet, where Nahla hands her a plate with a cut-up slice of pizza on it. It takes an army to raise a kid. Or three women. Whatever. We’re an army now.

  “There’s a girl crying in the living room,” Karen says, coming into the kitchen, her brow pulled together. “Is she okay? Did she know my Collin?”

  Notice how she says my Collin? He’s her baby and can do nothing wrong.

  “She knew him all right,” Sadie mumbles under her breath.

  Tatum jumps up from the table, drops her pizza, and hugs Karen. “Karen!” And then she does the dance. Every mom out there knows the pee dance.

  “Tatum, go to the bathroom.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a question. Go pee.” I’ve been trying to potty train her for a year. So far, she wants nothing to do with it. Changing a baby’s diaper, not so bad. Changing a three-year-olds? HELL. And they poop human size. Enough said. And yes, I know babies are human too. Whatever.

  “If I go, can I have something?”

  “What are you? A hostage negotiator? No, you can’t have something. Go to the bathroom.”

  Blank stares. “If I pee, I have candy?”

  I think about it. I do, but am I really negotiating over her peeing her pants?

  My cheeks heat with annoyance. “Fine. One candy.”

  “Five.”

  I give her the stern mom look. I don’t use it very often with her, but in the last few days, she’s been arguing everything I say. “Tatum….”

  “Loretta,” she corrects me, hands plastered to her hips.

  “Oh, go easy on her, Syd. She’s three.” Karen picks her up and into the bathroom. “Would you like ice cream tonight?”

  Karen!

  Sadie and Nahla stare at me. “Wow.” Sadie points behind her. “Do you think if she knew Collin had been cheating on you, she’d say, oh, he was thirty. He didn’t know any better.”

  “Probably.” I pour myself another glass of wine.

  “Should we offer Remi some wine?” Sadie suggests. “She’s still sitting in there.”

  “No, don’t—” I try to get out but then she comes around the corner.

  “I’d love some,” Remi notes, walking toward me.

  Have you ever seen that movie “Just Go with It”? Okay, if you have, the scene where the girl he’s trying to impress walks on the beach in the bikini… picture that but with a chick wearing yoga pants. She’s like the yoga version of Malibu Barbie. Way to make me feel worse about my life.

  Karen returns, carrying our little Tatum Tot in her arms. “I’m gonna take off with this little nugget.” Karen might be, well, a Karen, but she’s great with Tatum and loves her.

  I kiss Tatum, hug her between tears, and tell her over and over again how much I love her. She kisses my forehead. “I love you, honey.”

  Karen stares at Remi. “Are you friends with Syd?”

  Remi’s eyes widen and she stutters out, “I-I… no? Maybe?”

  “She’s Sadie’s friend,” I’m quick to add as I push them toward the door, because Tatum is watching us. No way I’m ever going to say anything derogatory about Collin in front of her.

  Before I know it, I’m drinking wine with my dead husband’s mistress. Just another Saturday night checking shit off my “never ever did I think this would be my life” list. And let me tell you, it’s getting pretty fucking short at this point.

  A slow pitch that is meant to look much faster. There are different variants of changeups.

  SYDNEY

  Who the fuck had I married? Did I even know him at all? This is exactly the kind of shit you see on Unsolved Mysteries, and everyone says he was such a nice guy, and then you find out he had twenty dead bodies in a freezer.

  Shit. I should go into the basement and check the freezers.

  Maybe tomorrow. I can only handle one shitstorm a day, and I’ve met my max now.

  Do you know what you get when you add a bottle of wine—okay, two—a batch of pot brownies (thank you, Sadie) and a mom who’s lost her ability to give a shit?

  No filter.

  Thankfully, Tatum is no longer home, and I can get drunk without having to worry about her drawing shit on the white couch in our living room.

  At some point, “Let’s go out” is thrown out there by Sadie. I’m sure it was Sadie, or maybe it was me. I don’t recall the specifics because, again, wine. And brownies.

  Now I’m in my closet looking for something to wear to a club Sadie and Remi know about. My stomach rolls as I try to keep it together. Or maybe it’s the brownies? I’ve never been good on marijuana. It makes me want to puke and eat. Both at the same time. It’s like that with all drugs for me. I experimented in college, but my roommate, she took it too far. She’d been addicted to Adderall because she wanted to stay focused. Though it sounded appealing, a drug to help keep you focused and alert, but Madysen became the example of what not to do. She started mixing the Adderall with cocaine, and then Xanax on top of that because the cocaine made her nervous and anxious. Also, she claimed our toaster was haunted.

  Forget the fact that she was hallucinating. Mixing an upper and a downer, that, my homies, is called speedballing.

  What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

  Your husband dying, and then finding out he’s a lying cheating bastard, that’s like mixing uppers and downers. I’m straight up speedballing.

  I whip my closet door open and find all three girls sitting on my bed. Apparently, we’re friends with Remi now. She’s chatting it up with Nahla like they’ve known each other for months.

  “I can’t afford to go out,” I tell them. My face is so hot I think it’s baking something in the oven. It is… my blood pressure.

  “If you need money, I can give it to you,” Nahla tells me, holding up a pair of jeans and a black top sure to show cleavage. It’s slutty, and probably exactly what I should wear to have a one-night stand. It’s the shirt that, every time I wore it, Collin asked me who I was dressing up for. It’s perfect. I hope he turns over in his grave thinking about it. Might be harsh.

  I think, and this is the wine talking, I need to get fucked to forget about my life. I’ll regret it tomorrow, but tonight, I’m all in. Load the bases, bitches. I’m going out.

  I take the dress off the hanger. “I’m not taking your money.”

  Sadie holds out her hand. “I’ll take some. I’m a broke college student.”

  Nahla ignores her.

  “Do you mind if I come with you guys?” Remi asks, looking about as fragile as I am inside. “I don’t have many girlfriends.”

  “But you had my husband,” I mumble and lock eyes with her. “Did you have sex with him on my bed?”

  Her eyes widen. “No way.” She holds up her palms to me. “I swear to baby Jesus. I didn’t even know where he lived.”

  Baby Jesus? Who the hell is this chick?

  Pushing out a breath, I sneak behind my closet door and regret it. The jeans are so fucking tight. “I can’t even get my jeans on. People need to stop bringing me fucking pies!” I yell, coming out of the closet.

  Sadie snorts, pouring more wine as she’s texting someone on her phone. “You don’t have to eat the entire pie.”

  “I do when they’re chocolate.” Reaching inside my dresser, I dump all of Collin’s clothes onto the floor and then find my fat jeans. “I’ll wear these.”

  “I can lend you money,” Nahla says again when I start counting the quarters in my chan
ge jar, wondering how expensive a drink will be at a bar.

  “No way.” I can’t take money from her. She worked hard for it, and I’m not a charity case. “But you can buy me a drink.”

  “Deal.”

  Downstairs, we look like quite the crew. Nahla is still wearing her clothes from work. Business pants and a white blouse. Sadie, she’s wearing one of my dresses with a chip clip synching it tighter in the back. Remi’s wearing the same outfit she came in and still looks ten times better than me—the one wearing mom jeans and a slutty top.

  At the door, Emmie is standing there with a pie in hand.

  “Oh, hey,” she eyes us, smiling. “You guys going out?”

  “Yep.” I wave to her mom in the car.

  “Snatched.”

  Nahla frowns. “Did she just call us snatches?”

  “We look the part,” Sadie has to add and then half-smiles at Remi. “No offense.”

  “Oh, none taken. I don’t even like Snickers.”

  If you’re thinking to yourself, what the fuck? We all are.

  Emmie rolls her eyes. “Snatched. Good. Cool.”

  “Oh. I knew that.” Remi laughs, waving her perfect hand around, her blonde hair blowing in the light breeze. Yeah, so an hour ago, she took her hat off, and her hair fell perfectly from it and cascaded over her tiny bony shoulders in beach waves.

  If I’m wearing a hat during the day, you better fucking believe my hair looks like a squished bird’s nest on a rainy day.

  Nahla shakes her head, digging out the keys to her car. “We were just on our way out.”

  “Tatum is with Karen tonight,” I add.

  “Oh, yeah, right.” Emmie hands me the pie. “Here. Mom made you a pie.”

  “Not another pie,” I groan.

  Emmie laughs, stepping off the porch and toward her mom’s car. “Okay, well, I’ll swing by tomorrow and take Tatum to the park for a bit.”

  As she’s leaving, Nahla clicks the remote to her Mercedes. “Let’s take my car. I had the least amount of wine.”

  “I’m totally sober,” Remi informs us. “I can drive.”

  “No way, mistress. I’m letting you come out with us, but I’m not getting in a car you probably fucked my husband in.”