by S. E. Law
“So how can I help you, Katie?” he asks. “As you know, Carlton Realty is at your service.”
I nod, cross my legs, and begin to talk.
“Well, Carlton Realty bought the Alastair Apartment Complex over on Alastair Road a couple years back,” I say. “You know, the two big grey buildings that are low slung with the green courtyard in the middle?”
Kenneth nods.
“Yes, I know. I was just there last week in fact. I manage the place now,” he says proudly.
That’s the perfect segue.
“Yes, I know, because you visited my mother who lives there. Dinah McCall? She lives in Unit 201, and well, I wanted to see if you could give her a break if possible.”
Kenneth’s brows go down.
“Why, is she behind on rent? We do have a number of forbearance programs, but I have to warn you that the interest is high.”
I shake my head.
“No, not on rent. Actually, when you were there last week, you served an eviction notice. Dinah’s supposed to be out of there within thirty days, and I was just wondering if maybe Carlton Realty could take that back? It’s just a big misunderstanding,” I stammer. “Dinah makes good money at her cupcake shop, but she’s forgetful at times, and sometimes she forgets to pay her rent. But I can pay you all the back rent now, if you’ll just let my mom stay,” I say in a rushed voice. “Would that be okay?”
Kenneth steeples his hands and tries to look thoughtful.
“Ah yes. I remember now. Unit 201 did you say? The woman who lives there was a little out of it, if I remember.”
I cringe a little.
“My mom can be a space case,” I acknowledge in a tight voice. “But I swear to you, Dinah is a good person and she forgot, that’s all. I have my checkbook with me right now, and I’m happy to make a check out for all the missed rent payments at this very moment, if you’ll just let her stay.”
I don’t add that this check is going to deplete my savings account down to zero, but I doubt Kenneth cares. He seems more into fancy offices and making his influence known.
As I expected, Kenneth puts on a fake sad face and the corners of his mouth turn down dramatically, as if he’s an actor in a sitcom.
“Well, you know that you owe that money regardless, don’t you, Katie? Your mom owes it, at least. No matter what happens, we’re going to get paid the back rent, so what else do you have to offer?”
I color.
“I know that Dinah owes you back rent no matter what, but I was hoping that the fact that we were high school classmates would help a little. Can’t you give us a pass? I swear, I will personally make sure that Dinah makes every rent payment on time going forward, even if I have to walk her to the bank myself each month.”
I hate that my voice has a begging quality to it, but I’m in a desperate situation here. Unfortunately, Kenneth shakes his head regretfully, still frowning his fake frown.
“No, I’m sorry Katie. We can’t give your mom a pass because we just don’t operate like that. Carlton Realty is a business of the twenty-first century, and it’s not about “your word is your bond” or any of those antiquated ideas. We’re automated and everything is done according to very strict internal procedures.”
I bite my tongue. It seems pointless to mention that Kenneth came by my mom’s place in person to deliver the eviction notice just like in years of old. That doesn’t seem very automated, but he continues, oblivious to my trail of thought.
“Besides, high school was so long ago, don’t you think? Ten years, is it? I can see that you haven’t changed at all, Katie,” he leers again. “I’m real happy to see you here today.”
I swallow my revulsion and force a smile onto my face while sitting forward.
“Listen, Ken, what do I have to do? I know that you probably have a lot of sway at Carlton Realty, and there must be something you can do. So what do I have to do? Just tell me and I’ll do it.”
At that, my old high school classmates breaks out into a sweat so that his face looks shiny and puffy in the harsh light. He practically rubs his meaty hands together in glee.
“Why don’t you come by my place tonight, and we can discuss further?” he asks in a sibilant voice. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”
My heart pounds as alarm bells ring out in my head.
“And what will we discuss exactly?” I ask in a somewhat normal voice. “I’m sure we can discuss it here, if you like.”
But Kenneth just shrugs.
“I don’t know. A little of this, a little of that. Like I said, it’s good to see you again, Katie. Maybe I just want a chance to catch up,” he says while staring overtly at my cleavage. I have to force myself not to put my hand at the vee of my blouse to shield myself. Instead, I smile again.
“Okay, sure,” I say in a stilted voice. “What time?”
He leans back in his chair, like he’s the king of the world.
“Let’s say eight tonight. That should be enough time to discuss the issue at hand,” he giggles.
“Fine,” I say in a short voice. “I’ll be there.”
“Ok, good,” he says as I get up and turn to leave. “And by the way Katie, wear something sexy okay? I especially like cocktail dresses with tiny bits of lingerie underneath. Oh, and high heels too. And fishnets, if you have them. You might want to think about getting a pair, if you don’t already have a pair,” he hints.
I swallow the vomit that’s coming up my throat, and merely nod before letting myself out of his office. Oh my god, did that really happen? Did disgusting Kenneth Carlton from high school just proposition me?
But yes, it’s true. I square my shoulders and prepare myself to walk out of this horrid office. I can’t believe this is happening. Kenneth Carlton is going to want something gross from me in order for letting my mom stay in her apartment.
But as I turn to walk down the hall once more, a tingle runs down my spine and I can feel hot eyes on me. Unbidden, my head turns and I catch the gaze of the man in the other glass office across the way.
My heart begins to pound, and my cheeks color. This man is absolutely gorgeous, and even from a distance, I can see that he has a strong, square jaw, broad shoulders, and black-as-night hair. He’s wearing a perfectly cut suit that skims his athletic frame, and his eyes pierce my heart even from a distance.
But there’s nothing I can do. I can’t throw myself at this man’s mercy and ask him to save me from Kenneth. I can’t beg him to let my mom keep her apartment. Instead, the only thing I can do is to walk out of here with my head high. Lifting my chin, I try to exit with grace and dignity, given the hopelessness of the situation.
But as I depart the office, I can feel the forbidding man’s gaze roving over my form, drinking me in. Who is he? Unfortunately, I’ll never know.
34
Xavier
I knock on my son’s apartment door. There’s no answer. I knock harder. Finally, some shuffling sounds take place and the door finally creaks open to reveal the clammy, chubby lump that is my son Kenneth.
Sometimes, I wonder how we can be related. After all, Kenneth looks nothing like me. I’m six foot four, with dark hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. Kenneth is about five foot nine, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and pink skin. We don’t look like we share any genes whatsoever, much less that he could be descended from me.
But it’s my ex-wife’s influence. Honey was a pale blonde, just like Kenneth, and he’s inherited her peaches and cream complexion. The problem is that on a woman, peaches and cream look attractive; on a man, peaches and cream just looks ridiculous.
And that’s what Kenneth is at this moment. He’s pink, flushed and sweaty, appearing more than a little disheveled in his oversize t-shirt and track bottoms. He opens the door a crack and peers at me suspiciously.
“Hey Xavier,” he says sourly. “What’s up?”
My eyebrows raise.
“Why the cold greeting?” I ask. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
&nb
sp; Kenneth peers around the hallway as if there are spies, and then nods.
“In fact, you did,” he says. “I was in the middle of watching a movie. Can you come back?”
“Which one?” I ask, ignoring his request.
Kenneth grows red and stammers a bit.
“It doesn’t matter which one,” he says. “I was watching a movie okay? Some World War II documentary put out by Netflix.”
I shake my head, rolling my eyes. I can smell a lie from a mile away, and my son definitely wasn’t watching a World War II documentary.
“Listen, if you were watching porn, then fine. I don’t care okay? You’re almost thirty. Give your old dad a break.”
Ken seems to think for a moment, but then he shrugs his shoulders and opens the door to let me in.
“Suit yourself. You own this building after all, so do as you like.”
I roll my eyes again while stepping into the apartment. Aw, fuck. It’s so disgusting in here. Sometimes I wonder why I even let Ken live here for free, seeing that he doesn’t take care of it at all. Old pizza boxes are littered everywhere, and there’s disgusting unidentifiable gunk caked all over the countertops. A sour smell emanates from the trash can, and I bet it hasn’t been taken out in weeks.
But the kicker is the large flat-screen TV on the wall. Sure enough, two women are locked in an embrace, with one woman’s head planted between the other’s legs. The one who’s getting her twat licked has her head thrown back in ecstasy, her face a rictus of pleasure. The two women are completely nude, and at this moment, frozen in their desire.
“I can press play again,” offers Kenneth helpfully. “I think you’d like this one. It’s called Belinda Loves Tamara.”
I shoot him a disgusted look.
“You know, I don’t have anything against porn because we’re guys. We have needs. But seriously, this place is a dump. Why are you living like this? Do you not see the trash that has to be taken out? The counters that need to be cleared? Have you asked Maria to come by recently? Obviously not, given the state of this place.”
Kenneth merely rolls his eyes.
“No, I haven’t asked the cleaning lady to come by because she was stealing from me,” he says flatly. “I was going to fire Maria.”
I stare at him.
“Maria has worked for me for twenty years, and she has never touched anything in my home that she wasn’t supposed to. I trust her with my life.”
Ken shakes his head stubbornly.
“No, she was stealing from me. I swear.”
I let out a huff of impatience.
“Okay, then what did she take? What could you have that she wants?”
He shrugs.
“She took a couple of my video games,” he says. “You know, my copies of Just Dance 3 and Arctic Battleship.”
I stare at him.
“Maria would never take your video games. She’s sixty years old and watches telenovelas in her free time. What would she want with your games?”
He shrugs.
“Maybe she gives them to her grandchildren. I don’t know,” he says in a careless voice.
I’m dumbfounded by my son’s insensitivity. I know Maria quite well, and she’s a good, church-going woman who attends services three times a week. There is no way she would ever take anything belonging to Ken, even if she were merely donating it to charity.
“You’re a fucking pig,” I say to my son. “Absolutely a fucking lunatic.”
My son merely shrugs and grins.
“Yeah, but Mom said it was the right thing to do. Show no mercy,” he says. “Because if you give an inch, they’ll take a mile.”
I see red as the rage rises within me. I’ve been divorced from Honey for years, and yet her bad influence is still around me every day because Kenneth is just like his mother. They’re both spoiled, entitled, and self-absorbed. How I managed to stay married for so long is beyond me. Thank god the ink on those divorce papers is long dry, even if it cost me a pretty penny.
But then Kenneth looks at the clock and flies into motion. He actually begins cleaning, of all things. He’s running around, stuffing empty pizza boxes into the trash bin and trying to grab as many soda cans as possible before throwing them into the recycling carton.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask, completely befuddled.
Kenneth pauses a moment and looks up, his eyes frantic.
“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! Can you help me here, Dad?” he asks. “Grab that carton of milk over there, and toss it in here.”
I look askance at the carton of milk. That thing hasn’t been in the refrigerator for days, and sure enough, as I draw near, a sour smell wafts through the air.
“You’re taking my advice?” I ask while putting the carton into the trash. “I had no idea you were such a filial son.”
“No, it’s not that,” mumbles Kenneth as he zips around the apartment, trying to clean like a speed devil. “It’s that Katie is going to be here in twenty minutes and this place is a sty. I don’t want her to see me like this.”
I stare at him.
“Katie? Who’s that? That’s not one of your friends from rehab, is she?”
Kenneth shakes his head furiously while trying to scrape off some of the unidentifiable gunk on the countertop with his nails.
“No, she’s my friend from high school. Well, we weren’t exactly friends friends. She stopped by the office today because we’re evicting her mom from the Alastair Complex, and wanted to know what she could do. I invited her by for a ‘chat,’” he sniggers while miming air quotes with his fingers.
I inhale sharply.
“She’s the one with the blonde hair right? Small, slim, wearing a blue suit when she stopped by today?”
Ken stops to snigger again.
“Yep, that’s the one. She’s hot, right? I’m going to give her the Carlton treatment, and see where that gets me. Oops, I better turn this off before she arrives,” he giggles again while reaching for the remote. “Don’t want her to feel intimidated by these lovelies.”
I stare at my son. Is he joking? The woman who stopped by the office today was absolutely ravishing with her ivory complexion and golden hair. She was a mix of proud, fiery and spirited. I could tell from her ramrod straight back, and the stubborn set to her chin as she spoke with my son. Plus, I couldn’t help but drink in that luscious figure because she was slim yet also curvy at the same time. The navy blazer couldn’t hide her generous breasts, nor the way her hips swung with every step she took.
And now, this woman is here to meet my son? That’s disgusting. She’s too good for him, and even worse, it seems that Ken wants to put her in a compromising situation, given the eviction notice.
This isn’t happening on my watch. Not when my mystery woman is so near, and such a beautiful gem too. I can’t let her be defiled by ugly, corrupt Kenneth. Instead, I fix him with a look.
“I’ll take over,” I grind out.
Kenneth doesn’t hear me at first as he frantically tries to clean some more. Obviously, nothing is going to make a difference at this late stage. This apartment needs to be evacuated and fumigated before it’s presentable again.
“What Dad?” he asks. “Seriously, can you help a little? Grab my dirty laundry over there, and just throw it under the couch.”
I stare at his boxers, which look to be stained and worse for the wear. Disgusting. Instead, I merely shake my head.
“I’ll take over,” I repeat in an authoritative voice. “Ms. McCall will deal with me instead.”
This time, Kenneth catches drift of my words and he pauses for a moment.
“What does that mean?”
I shrug.
“She’ll be coming to see me, and not you. I’ll ask the concierge to send Ms. McCall up to my penthouse, instead of your apartment.”
After all, my son and I live in the same complex. It’s a luxury building situated in the best part of town, and Kenneth’s apartment was part of the divorce settlement. Honey
wanted to set her son up with a place to live before she escaped to Europe, and as a result, I gifted Ken this place on the fifth floor.
“You’re going to what?” Ken gasps, his eyes bugging out a bit.
“I’m taking over,” I repeat casually while striding towards the door. “Consider the McCall matter closed, Kenneth. I’ll handle it from here on out.”
With that, I let myself out into the hallway as my son stares after me in stunned silence. The door swings shut with a thump, but I merely shrug while striding to the elevator.
After all, this is merely the natural order of things. As the alpha male, I’m asserting my dominance over a lesser male of the pack. The alpha male has the right to claim the females in the pack as he sees fit, and now that I’ve seen Katie McCall, Kenneth is being shoved unceremoniously out of the picture. Katie will be mine, and that’s that.
35
Katie
Tentatively, I make my way to the reception desk. Just like at Carlton Realty, this reception area is also lavish, with sky-high ceilings, modern chandeliers, and granite floors that gleam.
“Um hi, I’m here to see Mr. Carlton,” I manage in a stilted voice. “I’m Katie McCall.”
To my surprise, the male receptionist doesn’t even blink.
“Penthouse floor,” he says. “Please use the elevators to the left, and press “P” once you’re inside.”
I smile and murmur my thanks before stumbling a bit on my way to the elevators. Drat, it’s these shoes. To my shame, I’m actually dressed the way Kenneth requested. I have a navy cocktail dress on that hugs my curves, showing off my generous girls. The skirt is far too short and creeps up my thighs as I walk, and I tug it down self-consciously while biting my lip. These heels are ridiculous too. They seem to clop loudly, like horseshoes, as I walk across the marble floors.
Finally, I get to the elevator and press the button. Immediately, the doors slide open, and I step into an ornate mahogany box. Wow, this is so fancy. Gilt mirrors show my reflection, and I grimace at myself a bit as I press “P.”