Patriot
Page 20
I checked my phone when I got out. LeCharles had sent no reply yet. I suppose I shouldn’t have read too much into that; after all, if I had gotten a message like that from one of my exes, I don’t know how I would have responded. It probably would have made me wonder if he wanted something other than to just chat.
Did I?
Honestly, I didn’t know what I wanted. I was still attracted to that handsome man, but I didn’t know how he’d changed through the years. Maybe he’d turned into a huge asshole. Maybe he’d gotten fat. Maybe he’d become more sullen and withdrawn than he already was. Complete radio silence had a way of making all the possibilities seem realistic.
I went into the office of the complex and saw a woman with her feet up on the desk, drinking what looked like… I wanted to be generous and say it was an old-school Coke bottle, but I knew the truth. In a town like this, we all have to pass the time somehow.
“Hi, I’m here to move in?” I said.
“Move in?” the lady said. “What’s your name?”
Jesus, she’s not expecting anyone, is she?
“Rose Wright. I talked to Jon on the phone and—”
“Ah, shit, that guy never keeps me updated,” the woman said. “Hang on.”
She disappeared into a different room. I looked out the window to see Shiloh still staring at me through the car window, yearning for me to come back. I smiled at him, and his mouth dropped open, as if he was trying to talk to me. This is just temporary, buddy. We’ll make it through, I promise.
“Three hundred dollars for the deposit.”
“What?” I said. “Jon said it was—”
“Look, Jon’s an old fart who doesn’t know the difference between rent and runt half the time, OK?” the lady said. “You’ll get your three hundred back at the end of your six months if the place is clean.”
This place utterly reeked of the kind of place that would never return a security deposit. There was nothing about this woman or her communication with Jon that left me convinced in the slightest that I would ever see that three hundred again. And considering I only had five hundred bucks to last me between now and three weeks, when I got my first paycheck, I didn’t have a lot of faith that I could make it work.
But what was the alternative, to be homeless? To struggle to make ends meet with my dog? To go somewhere else where I wouldn’t have a job and I’d have to give Shiloh up for adoption so he wouldn’t starve to death?
I was in a fucked up situation, and I was too easily exploited. But I’d put myself here with some bad decisions and mistakes. I had to start as close to rock bottom as possible, and only then could I make my way out.
“OK,” I grudgingly said.
I wrote a check for three hundred bucks. I got the key, grabbed Shiloh, and took him to the apartment.
Which, it turned out, was the wrong apartment. There was an old lady watching the news who looked like she’d been drinking. The lady at the front office barely grunted an apology, only handing me the keys to the correct apartment then.
This time, finally, I had an empty apartment. It smelled terrible. Shiloh went about sniffing every corner of the place, utterly displeased with what he saw.
“I know, buddy, I know,” I said. “It’s a far cry from where we were before.”
I knelt before him, kissed the top of his head, and pulled him in close.
“But we have a home. And we have hope.”
I checked my phone. LeCharles had not yet replied.
But because I was in the area, I wasn’t lying to myself.
I had hope.
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Also by Trent Jordan
Lane (June 2020)
Patriot (June 2020)
Axle (July 2020)
Black Reapers 4 (July 2020)
Black Reapers 5 (July 2020)
Cole (August 2020)
More to Come…
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2020 by Trent Jordan
Cover art copyright © 2020 by Talia RedhotInk
Editing by Full Bloom Editorial
All rights reserved. Published by TJ Creations.