Tenants

by Christopher Motz

  With a final look, Linda let the door close on its pneumatic arm. The hall seemed much quieter without the sound of falling rain. On their way back to the lobby, she spotted a door on her left that was secured by not one, but three separate padlocks. A handwritten sign had been taped to the door: ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE. She looked at Al and raised an eyebrow.

  "The basement," he said. "It's strictly off limits to anyone but myself and maintenance. There's nothing but spiders and dust down there, anyway." Al politely grabbed her elbow and led her to the elevators - two modern units without flair or decorative adornment. He explained that the originals had been removed as a safety precaution and lamented the loss of the more ornate cars that had been there previously.

  To Linda, it seemed the entire building was a hodgepodge of the old and the new; function over form when it came to safety and convenience, and form over function in areas where the desired effect was to be admired for its authenticity. Linda couldn't be happier. Stumbling on the ad in the Gazette was a once in a million opportunity. For the price, she would have been lucky to secure a one-bedroom apartment anywhere else. The Blackridge was the epitome of hidden hideaways, the diamond in the rough, the needle in the proverbial haystack. Linda ran out of metaphors by the time the elevator doors opened and she stepped into the seventh-floor hallway.

  The walls were tastefully covered in satin wallpaper the color of Merlot; decorative bronze and glass sconces hung from either side of the three doors leading to the apartments. The floor was made of solid hardwood, glazed and polished to a lustrous sheen. Tall windows ran the length of the hall on her left, letting in a perfect amount of natural light. The faint smell of cigar smoke lingered in the air.

  "Three apartments," Al explained. "Only the room at the end is currently occupied. If you're interested, I can show you room 703, right in the middle."

  "Yes, please," Linda said. She stopped by the door and waited for Al to remove the keychain from his pocket. She wondered why he was showing her rooms on the upper floor. She assumed they had once been suites for businessmen and was suddenly worried about falling victim to a classic bait-and-switch. "These rooms are the ones advertised?"

  "Oh, yes," he replied, slipping the key into the lock. "Many of the rooms below are undergoing renovations at the moment. It's an old building and it requires constant upkeep." Al swung the door open and extended his arm in a welcoming gesture. "After you."

  Linda crossed the threshold and held her breath, listening to her heels click on the hardwood floor. The living room was directly ahead. At its center was a large, black leather couch and matching chairs surrounding a glass-top coffee table, all nestled comfortably in front of a fireplace topped by a marble mantle. A modern reproduction chandelier hung from above by a gold chain. To the left was a gleaming kitchen, complete with stainless steel refrigerator and a six-burner stove. A rack hung suspended above the center island, awaiting pots, pans, and whatever other cooking implements she could pilfer from her parents' house. She wasn't much of a cook - more of a microwave gourmet - but there was always a chance to learn, especially with a kitchen that appeared to be made for a family of six.

  On their right, down a short hall, were three other doors - two leading to bedrooms, and one to a bathroom designed in black and white tile. A vanity ran the length of one wall; recessed lights hung above a long mirror that gave the impression that the room was much larger than it actually was. A claw-foot tub fit for a king sat in the center of the room atop a small, raised platform that was lined with bone-white tile flecked with shards of black and gray.

  Linda turned to Al, suddenly remembering she wasn't alone and feeling embarrassed for not having spoken sooner. "I'm sorry... I'm just trying to take it all in," she said.

  "No apologies necessary. So... what do you think?"

  "Are you kidding? This is bigger than my parents' entire house." Linda peeked inside one of the bedrooms as a smile crept across her lips. "I mean... look at this. These rooms are massive." The larger of the two bedrooms was painted a tasteful cream color with a deep-pile carpet and walk-in closet. A king-size bed stood at the room's center with two dark oak nightstands and matching bureau.

  "The bedrooms should suit your purpose. The other is a bit smaller but perfect for a child."

  "Oh, no," Linda interrupted. "This is just for me."

  "Then maybe an office or library," Al suggested. "You're only limited to your own imagination."

  My imagination, she thought. How could I have ever imagined this?

  Rain beat steadily against the windows as thunder rattled the glass. It was the only sound she heard in the entire building. Al wasn't lying when he said his tenants were quiet. She didn't hear shouting children or the muffled rumble of blaring televisions. It felt like she and Al were the only two people in the building, and although this would have typically made her uncomfortable, she felt perfectly safe alone with him. Even with a plunging neckline and short skirt, she didn't feel his eyes crawling over her exposed flesh. The world was full of lecherous, old slumlords... it was refreshing to see that Al was neither. To call the Blackridge a slum would be like calling the Taj Mahal a parking garage. For the price, it was almost too good to be true.

  "There is a catch, isn't there?" Linda asked.

  "No catch. I understand your apprehension, but I assure you there's no fine print. All I need from you is first and last month's rent and you could move in by the weekend."

  Linda nodded and scanned the room again, looking for signs of leaks in the roof or poorly patched sections of drywall. She ran a finger over the mantle and was surprised to find it completely free of dust.

  "The fireplace, as I'm sure you can see, is no longer functional."

  "I'm glad you said something. I would have looked like a real jerk trying to stuff firewood in the elevator."

  Al laughed loudly, throwing his head back and holding a hand over his stomach. Linda noticed his teeth were not only perfectly white but also free of any decay. She wondered if they were real. For a man clearly in his fifties or sixties, he was strikingly well-preserved. She looked away before he could catch her admiring his dental work.

  "So, Ms. Gianni..."

  "Linda, please."

  "Linda. All I require is payment and your signature and we can wrap this up right now. If you need more time to think about it..."

  "No," she blurted. "I think I've seen enough."

  "Are you sure? If you want to take a few days to think it over, I can hold the room for you."

  "There's no need. This is exactly what I was looking for... more to be honest."

  "I'm glad to hear it," he said, grinning. "I think you'll really like it here. If you'd just follow me to my office, we can take care of a few formalities and get you ready to move in."

  Al's office was on the first floor, through a door tucked behind the Admissions desk. It was barely larger than a closet but was as clean and tidy as the rest of the building. He pulled a lease agreement from a short, gray filing cabinet and handed her a Montblanc pen that was easily worth as much as a month's rent.

  "Oh, one small detail," Al said as Linda was about to sign on the dotted line. "We do not allow pets of any kind."

  "That's okay," she replied. "It's only me."

  "Very well. I have nothing against animals, mind you. They just don't seem to last very long at the Blackridge."

  Don't last very long? Linda found it a very peculiar statement. Not that they were noisy or damaged the property, just that they don't last very long.

  Strange.

  Linda signed her name and slid the paperwork across the desk, placing the pen on top and reaching into her purse for her keys.

  "Oh, you can keep this," Al said, pushing the Montblanc toward her.

  "Keep it? The pen? It has to be worth five hundred bucks!"

  "Twice that actually. It's a Meisterstuck Solitaire, retailing at somewhere near a grand."

  "I couldn't possibly..."

  "Don't be silly," Al
smiled. "Consider it a moving-in present from me to you."

  Awestruck, she held the pen cautiously between her thumb and index finger, treating it as she would a fine piece of glassware.

  I can sell this and make back my deposit, she thought as she dropped it into her purse with a smirk.

  Al stood and offered his hand. "I don't want to be forward," he said, "but you're a very attractive young lady. I find it shocking that you're going to be living here all by yourself."

  Linda paused, unsure of how to answer. Al saw her moment of uncertainty and laughed.

  "Oh, please, don't misunderstand. I'm old enough to be your father. I'd just assumed you'd have a companion."

  Linda snickered and shook her head. "I've had enough companions to last a lifetime. I've found I'm probably better on my own."

  "An independent young women," he said. "Good for you."

  Al and Linda crossed the lobby and stared out the front doors into the rainy street. Linda regretted staying so long. It would take her twice as long to get home now that it was fully dark. They chatted for several minutes about the building and the neighborhood as thunder shook the building. Several times, the lights flickered but remained on. Outside, not a single car passed. The row of stone houses across the street were dark. As they walked into the rain, Al sniffled and closed the door behind them, jangling his keys in his hand.

  "Do I contact you when I'm prepared to move in?" Linda asked.

  "Ah, yes, I almost forgot." He dug into his pocket and removed a business card. "That's my personal phone number. If you ever need anything, day or night, don't hesitate to call. I will have your room key ready for you tomorrow afternoon. I can leave it in your mailbox behind the Admissions desk if that's okay with you."

  "Yes, that's fine. If I can manage, I'd like to move in this weekend. The sooner the better."

  "Very well," Al said, patting Linda's arm. "The Blackridge welcomes you."

  With a nod, Al descended the steps and jogged to his Lexus. A moment later, he pulled away and beeped the horn twice, leaving Linda alone on Delaney Street. She walked down the steps and into the rain, dodging puddles on the way to her car. Once inside, she inhaled deeply and reached into her purse for her keys and cell phone. She knew by now her mother would be getting worried.

  She jammed the key in the ignition and pressed her parents' contact number, listening as it rang quietly in her ear. When her mother answered, Linda heard the thin threads of worry in her voice.

  "Linda, are you okay? Where are you?"

  "I'm fine, mom. I found an apartment and you'll never believe how wonderful it is."

  "That's great, honey, but you know it's raining outside, right? You'd better be careful on your way home."

  "This isn't my first rainstorm, don't be so paranoid."

  "I'm not paranoid... I just worry."

  "I know, mom. Listen, I'm about to pull out. I'll talk to you and dad when I get home."

  "Keep your eyes on the road. I'll make you something to eat."

  Linda hadn't realized how hungry she was until her stomach growled. "That sounds great. I'll be home soon. I love you."

  She disconnected the call and tossed her phone on the passenger seat along with Albert Sterling's business card.

  "Can you believe this place?" she said aloud, squealing like a girl on Christmas morning.

  Her phone vibrated.

  "Jesus, mom, I said I'd be home soon."

  It wasn't her mother. It was Christian.

  WHERE ARE YOU? WE NEED TO TALK!

  Just like in real life, he felt the need to scream even in his text messages.

  The phone buzzed again.

  DUMB BITCH!

  She leaned over and looked up at the Blackridge through the rain-dappled passenger window. It looked deceptively vacant from the outside, a distinct contradiction of the warm, welcoming rooms of the old hotel's interior.

  No wonder there are empty apartments, she thought. The curb appeal is nothing to write home about.

  As she bent further, the curtains parted in a fourth-floor window and dim light spilled out around the silhouette of a small human figure. A woman? A child? Linda couldn't determine who was watching her, but she felt their gaze from above, silently examining the car and who was inside. The figure peeked through the curtain for another few seconds before backing away and closing the drapes.

  Still, Linda felt as if she was being watched. She didn't notice any other lights in the rest of the building and wondered exactly how many people were really here. It was odd that a building of this size wouldn't have more activity. It was too early for people to be in bed... maybe it had something to do with the weather? It was damp and chilly and unpleasant. Linda was known to hunker beneath the sheets with a bowl of popcorn and a good movie whenever it was cloudy and gray. Perhaps it was something she and her new neighbors had in common.

  Linda checked her mirror, turned on the headlights, and pulled away from the Blackridge as the rain grew heavier.

  Curtains opened as tenants watched her car disappear around the corner... some happy, some curious, some despondent.

  A new tenant was always something to be wary of.

  Chapter 2

  "Are you sure you don't want your father to take a look?" Carol Gianni asked. They sat around the kitchen table the following morning, eating dry toast and poached eggs. "You can never be too careful."

  "No, Mom," Linda replied. "The apartment is in great shape."

  "Did you look at the ceiling for signs of water damage?"

  "Mom, seriously... the building is old, but it's been very well-kept. I'm getting the feeling you don't want me moving out at all."

  "Oh, honey, it isn't that. We worry about you."

  "Dad?" she asked. "You've been awfully quiet."

  Thomas Gianni crunched on a piece of toast and washed it down with a mouthful of black coffee. "You're an adult, Lin. If it's what you want, I'm not going to stop you."

  "A voice of reason," Linda said, smiling.

  Carol sighed and wrung her hands nervously. "What about Christian? What if he shows up in the middle of the night to cause trouble?"

  "He doesn't know where I'm going, Mom. Even if he finds out, I'm sure they lock the building after a certain hour. People don't just walk in off the street at two in the morning and set up sleeping bags in the lobby."

  "How do you know what goes on? You walked around for what... twenty minutes?"

  "She's twenty-five years old," Thomas interrupted. "Do you think she wants to live with us her entire life?"

  "Thank you."

  "Well, at least let us come with you and look around," Carol said. "What harm could come of that?"

  "You're welcome to come whenever you want, but I need to do this on my own. I'm not a little girl anymore. I think I can handle taking care of my own living arrangements. Do you really want Christian pounding on the door every time he gets drunk? This will be good for all of us."

  "I don't have to like it..."

  "No, you're right, you don't, but it's happening."

  Her father stood, rinsed his coffee mug, and kissed his daughter on the top of the head. "We trust your judgment. Not necessarily about men, but..."

  "Dad," she groaned.

  "Hey, it's not like everyone gets as lucky as your mother."

  "There's that Gianni ego," Carol giggled.

  "So, it's settled," Linda said as she stood from the table and placed her plate in the sink. "When I get situated, you'll be the first to know."

  "What about a roommate?" her mother blurted. "Theresa? Jenny?"

  "I'm going to the store to pick up a few things," Linda said, ignoring her mother's pleas. "Dad, could you please let Mom know I'll be fine?"

  "She'll be fine," Thomas called over his shoulder as he left the kitchen.

  "I swear, you two will be the death of me."

  "I love you, too. I'll be home soon."

  She kissed her mother on the cheek, grabbed her keys, and left without an
other word.

  Linda was familiar with this conversation. It'd happened when she got her first job as a cashier at Wal-Mart, had happened when she got her first apartment, had become a three-hour lecture when she had begun dating Christian and moved in with him soon after. If her mother had nothing to worry about, she'd invent something.

  Cashiers are robbed all the time...

  Do you know how many car accidents happen on Prom might...

  What are you going to do if you get pregnant...

  Don't play in the rain, you're gonna catch pneumonia...

  ...or get struck by lightning.

  It was one thing having an overbearing mother, but something else entirely having to live the last twenty-five years with an angel on her shoulder. How can a person learn from their mistakes if they're never allowed to make them?

  It'd been seven years since she first worked behind a cash register, and since then she'd been promoted up through the ranks to assistant manager at her local Wal-Mart in Dickson City. She'd squirreled away a decent sum of money over the last few years and had avoided any serious debt. It was more than most people her age could say for themselves, and she was rather proud of not having to lean on her parents for handouts.

  Her father had just passed twenty years at the Post Office, but still drove the same truck he'd bought in 2005. He was a caring, giving man, and Linda - being his only child - often benefited from this. She didn't ask for it and often refused, but Thomas didn't care. Linda wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find a wrinkled envelope full of twenty-dollar bills tucked inside one of her packing boxes.

  You'll have to take care of us when we get old, he'd said on more than one occasion. Consider this an early payment.

  There was no point arguing.

  When she reached the store, she greeted several front-end employees and nodded at customers as she passed. It always felt strange being in the store when she wasn't working. It was as if she was still expected to give direction or dole out orders - the pros and cons of management.

  Linda made her way to Housewares, carefully examining pots and pans, silverware, and upright vacuum cleaners. She hadn't really thought about everything she'd need, but this was as good a place as any to start. When she had moved in with Christian, he had already been there for several years. She didn't need much more than her clothes, some DVDs, and random odds-and-ends. This time, she'd need to start from scratch. If it meant being away from Christian, she'd build the entire damn apartment by hand if necessary.