Chapter 5
Tara Castro
A month later
Trey Harper was not messing around. He began planning and investing in the building right away. I saw him a few more times during his first trip to Galveston, but he never gave me a definitive answer about the rent for downstairs. He called me before he left town and said that he hadn't decided what to price it at yet. He said he might want to do some work on it while it was vacant. He promised that he would let me be the first to know once he was ready to lease it to someone.
So, my business venture plans were on hold, at least for now.
I went back to my life as it was, working at Dad's gym and Miss Gwendolyn's dance studio. Between my duties at the gym and actually working out there, I was at Bank Street Boxing about thirty hours a week. Even in my big plan, when I imagined running my own dance studio and art gallery, I knew I would still work with my dad. I loved working there.
I decided the logical thing to do with my building and apartment situation was to see what else was out there. I inquired about several other properties, and to my own dismay, I found out that Trey had been correct. The only places I could find to rent for eight-hundred-dollars were either tiny, run down, or on the outskirts of town. There were no nice storefronts in the downtown area going for less than fourteen hundred, and certainly none as nice as the jewelry store. The same was true for my apartment. In the last month, I had looked at several other places, and none were as nice as the one where I lived for the price. I felt a little bad for being so cold to Trey when he gave me the news.
It didn't seem to faze him, though. He just moved along with his plans without giving much thought to my situation. A week after he visited Galveston, he started improvements on the outside of the building. It was being washed and painted. He had chosen a similar color, a stone greyish-green color that was similar to but richer than the one that had been on there before. It seemed more stately now, with the exterior walls and trim getting repainted.
Next to Stan's apartment, there was a closet with a staircase to the roof access. I vaguely knew it was there, but I never had access to it before. Trey had cleaned up the rooftop when he was in town to see the progress. I ran into him when he was going in there one day, and he said I could use the rooftop as long as I kept the door locked.
Later that day, I found a key in an envelope that had been slipped under my door. I didn't see Trey again on that trip, but I was thankful I had run into him. I liked having access to the rooftop, and I wouldn't have a key if I hadn't run into him in the hall. I knew that because neither of my neighbors got a key. I didn't tell them about mine.
So, for a while, my life didn't change. If anything, it got better. I was excited that Trey seemed to love the building, and I got lost in the comfort of being able to stay there and enjoy the improvements while paying the same, low rent.
But suddenly, I was reminded of the grim reality of being kicked out when Stan, my neighbor in 202, started moving his things out. I was on my way to Carson's to pick up breakfast when I noticed him in the hallway, instructing a couple of guys who were carrying a table. We had a whole conversation where he informed me that his rent had gone up to six-fifty, and that he would have to either get a roommate or move out. He said he was so used to living by himself that a roommate wasn't an option.
Stan was tired, and he was in the middle of moving to a place that was half as nice. Needless to say, he wasn't very happy. We talked about Trey a little bit and how it would've been nice if he would have raised the rent slowly, but ultimately, both of us knew it was his building and that we didn't have a say in the matter. I felt for Stan, though. It was extremely easy to put myself into his shoes because I would literally be there soon.
That first month of normalcy was just great, but having Stan move out put a cloud of dread over me.
It was a week later when I ran into Trey Harper again. I was on my way to the gym, and I noticed that the door to the old jewelry store was open. Of course, I peered inside, and when I saw that it was Trey, I walked a little closer.
Trey wasn't the only one inside. I could see, as I came to the door, that some construction was going on. There were two men dressed in work clothes. They were pointing at the ceiling and talking to each other.
I hated confrontation and I had a bad habit of rushing to the point, which was exactly what I did in that moment. I was nervous, and without greeting Trey in any other way, I just said, "What's going on? Is someone moving in down here?"
"Hello to you, too, Tara," he said. "And no. I told you I'd let you know when I'm ready to lease it. These guys are going to take these counters out. They're not original, they're from the sixties. I think it would be better to have it open in here."
I just nodded. I wanted to say that it was a mistake to do too much work on it since I was willing to do all of that for free. But, honestly, I didn't think I could afford to move in here, even without renovations. I knew my chances were slim.
"Stan moved out," I said, unable to stop myself from saying everything off the bat.
"Yes, he did," Trey agreed. He had been looking at notes in a folder, but he looked up from what he was doing to have this conversation with me. Twice he had glanced down at my legs. He tried not to, but his eyes got drawn to the fact that I had on shorts. I was on my way to the gym to work out. I knew my shorts were short, and I put my duffle bag strategically in front of me when I caught Trey glance at me.
"Who's moving in there?" I asked, wondering how quickly he could find someone to pay the new, higher amount.
"I'm not looking for somebody right away. I'm having a few things fixed. I'll stay up there while I'm here for a few days and kind of take stock of what needs to happen and how soon I want to get it rented out."
I shook my head at his nonchalance. I was scared for myself and thinking of my own future fate when I said, "It's just weird that you're not even worried about getting someone else in there right away, and yet you wouldn't just let Stan stay there. It seems better to let him stay there for the amount that he was paying than to make him move out and not get any money for that place at all."
Trey grinned at me, shaking his head as he casually came my way. "It is hilarious that you try to tell me what I should and shouldn't do with my building. Nobody is telling you what you should do with your stuff. You have an empty bedroom in your apartment right now. I saw it for myself. It's got mirrors in it. Why don't you put a bed in there and let Stan stay with you if you so worried about Stan having to move out?"
I blinked at him. I was stunned. He was right, and I had nothing to say in response, so I just turned and walked away. My eyes were wide and I wasn't smiling as I just slowly turned on my heels and began walking out of the store.
I heard his footsteps as he crossed the room behind me. "Tara," he said.
By the time I stopped and turned around, he was only a few feet from me. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with skater shoes. He didn't look like the owner of a building. I would have imagined him on a skateboard at the boardwalk and not cashing rent checks and making construction upgrades.
"I didn't mean to offend you," he said when I turned.
"You didn't. You're actually really right. It's your building. I shouldn't have…" I trailed off, not knowing how to put into words what I wanted to say. "I shouldn't have bugged you about it. I'm sorry." I spoke humbly, knowing I was wrong in this situation.
I wanted to tell him that I was only saying these things because I was terrified of being in Stan's situation and knew I would find myself there in just a few months. I wanted to spew my guts and say all that, but I held my tongue. I had already done enough to let him know he was inconveniencing all of us. I gave him a little bow and turned again.
"Are you going out in those shorts?" he asked.
I turned, looking at him with an instant offended glare that said you must not be talking to me.
He gave me a serious nod and gestured to my body. "Your shorts are really short
," he said.
I let out a scoff, smiling since he must have been joking.
"You probably shouldn’t go over to that boxing gym wearing those."
I tilted my head at him. "Are you trying to teach me a lesson about what it feels like for people to tell you what to do with your stuff? Because I just said I was sorry for that."
He gave me a confused glare like he was trying to understand what I was saying. "No. I'm just saying your shorts are really short, and there's a bunch of guys over there. You shouldn't wear them in there unless you want that kind of attention."
I didn't know what to say. I thought he was doing this on purpose, to say I was being annoying about his building. But he was seriously worried about my shorts.
"It's hot in the gym," I said. "This is what I wear all the time."
Trey stared downward with a small apologetic smile. "I'm not… I also wanted to say, that I'm not kicking you out right away." He shifted his stance and then glanced at me. "I'll work with you on the rent increase for your apartment. I know you like being here with your dad's place right across the street and everything, and I don't want you to think that I'm going to be inflexible in three months when it's time to sign again."
I was already moving to walk out of the door. I was on my way to a boxing class that happened at 10am. I was expected to be there to partner up with a young featherweight fighter named Miguel who was improving quickly. I had been working with him a lot lately. My younger brother, Will, would have normally done it, but he was out with a fractured hand.
I smiled broadly at Trey. "I have to get to work but I'm pretty sure I want more information about the things you just said. I don't know what you were saying, exactly, but I think it feels like a little bit of good news, so I'd like to talk to you more about that." I spoke ineloquently as I backed toward the door, and Trey smiled at me. "Seriously," I said. "If what you were saying is real, then, thank you."
"You're welcome," he said.
But he was calling it at my back because we had already waved at each other and I was in the process of leaving.
I walked across the street feeling happy and oh so relieved. I was smiling at the thought of being able to stay in the apartment after my lease was up.
I luxuriated for a moment, but then I got mad at myself for being so charmed. I thought back to Trey telling me I should have Stan stay in my extra bedroom, and I felt embarrassed by the memory of that exchange. One second, I was feeling thankful to Trey, and the next, I felt like I hated him. I thought about him talking about my shorts, too, and my cheeks felt hot at the memory it. My father always got on to me when I had on short shorts. I wasn't trying to get attention from guys when I did it. I think Dad knew that, and he let me get away with it even though they weren't his favorite. I was just comfortable in them and thought they looked good on me. I was raised as a dancer, so I moved well in light, fitted clothes
I wasn't even expecting to run into Trey, anyway. And it wasn't like I owed him an explanation about my clothing. I had thoughts like these as I walked toward the gym.
But once I got there, it was business as usual. For the next two hours, I worked out and trained with Miguel.
Chapter 6
The door for apartment 202 was wide open when I finished working at the gym that day. I knew that because I had to pass by there on the way to my apartment. I heard men's voices as I passed, and I walked by the open door without even looking inside. I had my hands full so it took me a second to search for my key and open my door. I heard them saying something about knocking down a wall, and I cringed knowing that every construction project meant more money.
I took a shower the instant I walked into my apartment. I was dripping with sweat. My protective father was not at the gym this morning, so I had trained a little harder with Miguel.
There was a piece of paper that had been slipped under my door when I got out of the shower. I almost didn't notice it, but once I did, I went right over to it, picked it up, and read it. It was a handwritten note.
I will be in apartment 202 all afternoon.
Please come by when you get the chance.
Trey signed it with his first name.
I turned it over, noticing that it was a receipt from my aunt and uncle's hardware store.
I went over to the apartment immediately. I was so anxious to hear whatever he had to say that I just started walking over there that instant. I didn't even think about the fact that I had on lounge clothes with my hair wrapped in a towel. I realized I should have considered my condition when I was about halfway there, and I reached up and took my hair out of the towel while I was in the hallway. I held the towel in my hand as I leaned out and knocked on his doorframe. The door was still propped open, and I took another step, peering inside. Trey was there, along with another guy. I waved at them, and smiled but then stepped back, hoping Trey would come to me, which he did.
He came into the hallway quickly, looking me over. His smile faded so quickly that my heart dropped. He was staring straight at my eyes, or the side of my face. He was definitely staring cautiously.
"What happened to you, Tara?"
"What is it?" I asked, leaning back as he came toward me.
He stared intensely at the side of my face. "Who did this to you?" he asked. "You have a black eye."
He was so upset about it that I turned and walked the few steps back to my apartment so that I could look in the mirror. I had no idea what he was talking about. I hadn't been hit at practice and no one said anything about me having a black eye. I hadn't stared at myself or anything, but I glanced in the mirror when I took a shower, and I didn't see it.
I went to my apartment, and Trey followed me. There was a mirror in my entryway, and I stared into it, focusing on the side of my face where he had been staring.
"Oh that?" I said. "That's not a black eye. It's just a little burn. Like a carpet burn or whatever—a brush burn." I tilted my face to the side staring at the small red patch near the corner of my right eye. "Something just rubbed me right there. It's probably from his glove, or even his hair or beard."
"Whose hair or beard?"
"Miguel's."
"Your boyfriend?"
I laughed. "No. He's… he's seventeen. He boxes at my dad's gym. He's really good. He's only been training for about six months, but he's already going to take an amateur match."
"I don't understand how he has a beard at seventeen or how he was rubbing it on you."
"It's not a full beard. It's just that any little facial hair can rub you the wrong way if someone's chin bumps you. He wasn't rubbing it on me, but boxing is a contact sport. Something just rubbed me right there. It happens all the time. It'll fade in a day or two. In a match, you would put lubricant on your face to prevent that."
"Are you a boxer?" he asked.
"I train, and I help some of the fighters train, but I don't compete."
I held onto the towel, taking a step back from him, so that we could talk. "I didn't mean to break up your meeting but I got your note."
"Is your dad okay with you boxing with guys even when you get hurt like this?" he asked.
I smiled at him for being so concerned. "It must look worse than it is," I said gesturing to it. "This is no big deal at all. Yes, my dad knows I'm boxing with guys. I'm one of Miguel's main training partners. He'll outgrow me soon, but for now, we're good for each other."
He stared at me for a good, long while before he spoke again. "Well, about the note, I was just looking at the measurements of this place, and it seems like I am missing some space upstairs. Did Stan ever say anything about a closet or hidden room?"
"Hidden room?" I said. "Like where you pull a book and the shelf opens up? I wish I had one of those in my apartment."
"Something like that," Trey said. "But it seems like it would be back here on this end of the building. I was wondering if Stan ever mentioned it."
"No," I said. "We weren't that close, though."
"Okay," Trey said, nodd
ing. "Hey, if I wanted to have dinner somewhere besides Carson's, where do you think I should go? Elliot's? The seafood place, is that place any good?"
"Elliot's, no, definitely not. Don't go there. Go to Miller's. Elliot's is terrible."
"Oh, wow. I'm glad I asked."
"Did you not want to say anything about my rent?" I said. "I thought that's what the note was about. I thought maybe you decided on a price. I’m really waiting to hear what you say on that."
"Oh, no. I hadn't thought about it," he said. "When is your lease up? Six months?"
"Three months," I said.
He shook his head. "I've got it in your file. I'll have to look at it. I've just got so much going on. I’m looking at another building on Market Street."
"What do you mean you're looking at it?"
"I'm looking at it to buy," he said.
I tilted my head. "Really? Why?"
Trey tilted his head back at me. A piece of his hair fell over his forehead when he did it, and he used his hand to push it back. He was a lady killer, but I was too distracted by my uncertain future to care.
"Because I think it's a good investment. I have this place now, and I like this city. I'll be coming back to check on this building, anyway, I might as well have another one. The one on Market street is three story, but it's smaller than this one square-footage-wise. It's got a storefront and four apartments, two on each floor. But everything's smaller. If I end up keeping an apartment vacant for myself in Galveston, it'll probably be one of those because they're smaller than these."
"Maybe I can move into one of your smaller ones. Are they nice? I'm sorry. I didn't realize what a good deal we were getting at this place," I said. "It's my first time to be on my own, so even this seemed like a lot of money to me." I backed away from him slowly, going to hang my towel on the back of a chair. I looked at him and continued what I was saying. "I went to a few other places, and I realized you were right, this place is worth more than I'm paying."
Secret Rooms and Stolen Kisses: A Romance (Bank Street Stories Book 4) Page 4