The Devil in Apartment 13

by Tiana Laveen

  “I must say it’s not often that someone comes in here and wants to hear all of my complaining. I guess tonight was my lucky night,” she joked. “It’s kind of refreshing.” He offered a kind smile. “So, what do you do, Shahzad, besides listening to bartenders groan? You’re dressed awfully sharp to be a curbside therapist!”

  His smile grew wider.

  “Don’t let the fine clothing fool you,” he stated as he pulled at his jacket. “I like to dress nicely when going out. I don’t have much free time. Vocationally, well… I’ve got a lot going on. Real estate ventures, things of that nature but uh… as far as my full-time job, I’m in sales.”

  “Real estate and sales, huh?” She crossed her arms and nodded. “I bet—”

  “Hey, Viv! Need some help ova here!” Elizabeth called out as a crowd of guys bum-rushed the counter. “I’ll be right back.” She put up a finger and raced to her friend to fulfill some orders. Gone no longer than five minutes, when she turned around to find him, she was greeted with a coolness, a shadow that had slipped away. He was gone. His seat was vacated. A bit of melancholy came over her as she made her way to his empty chair. His glass was half empty. She picked it up to clear the area but noticed a lump under the cocktail napkin it had been resting on. She gasped. Right there sat two hundred dollars in cash and a note. She stared at the two one-hundred-dollar crisp bills, unable to believe her eyes.

  The note was written in black ink on the back of the napkin: ‘Vivian, I hope to see you again soon. Call me sometime: Shahzad Haidar – 212-773-7121. Here is the money for the excellent drink, conversation, and a little ‘thank you’ for letting me bask in your beauty.’

  Shoving the money and note in her pocket, she tried in vain to wipe the smirk off her face. Elizabeth waved at her from across the bar.

  “Good tip?” she called out, a hopeful grin on her face.

  “Amazing! Looks like the night got better after all!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  As You Wish

  While Kindred The Family Soul crooned “Far Away” on the radio, silver swirls of cigar smoke wafted up to the ceiling. Shahzad stood inside of his vast office in Manhattan looking out at the city. The streets were aglow with non-stop debauchery and the occasional good Samaritan helping a pregnant woman into her cab or an old man cross the street. An oasis of concrete, over-priced and glittering storefronts, and lost souls stretched before him. Every object, every building, every ware for sale had been made from the sweat of those struggling to make ends meet. Restaurants abounded on every street corner, the chefs cooking delicious foods soaked in MSG, sodium, and exotic seasonings, as well as a plethora of bodegas that catered to those in a hurry – a Snapple, cheap pair of knock-off Bluetooth headphones, or an egg salad sandwich to go.

  The past few days had clustered together like a congregation and spread like a web cast far in the rafters of an old country barn. This was his favorite time to consult himself, to gather his thoughts, relish his quiet time and reflect. He was free from distractions with no one banging on his door, no million dollar wishes to grant, no meetings to encourage his crew to do what they were destined to do – build, destroy, then fade away. He’d had some time to mull over the situation that now lay at his feet. There was no denying it anymore.

  The bartender with the pretty twinkle in her eyes intrigued him. Too much.

  It had all begun innocently enough. In his dutiful fashion, he’d picked up on a desperate soul needing a wish granted. One could smell the desperation, and even hear it if one listened closely enough. It was then he’d come in and make an offer the person couldn’t refuse. The bartender needed help. She’d said it out of her own mouth…

  ‘I wish…’ Those two magic words…

  Surely many others did the same every second of the day, but the wish seekers had to meet certain criteria in order to even be considered for such a visit. For one, somewhere deep inside of them they needed to still believe in miracles. A belief system in the unknown, unseen, and difficult to explain were crucial. He wasn’t the Easter Bunny, but his kind was treated as such by the masses. This helped, actually, serving to weed out the riff-raff. Unlike the Great Creator, Shahzad had no desire to be believed in, called on for help, or prayed to. He was a one-and-done type of fellow… with a rate. The second option was a bit different.

  The wish seeker could possibly know of their existence first hand – perhaps a strange grandmother who told stories of murderous pirates, smart goddesses and virile gods who mated with humans creating a super race. There’d be enchanted tales of beautiful, shimmery mermaids with the bodies of fish and the faces of angels. Stories of magic, kind and malignant jinns, and silly, irate, or temperamental cyclops. He’d strike gold if those believers were seekers with the money to allow him to grant such wishes as fame, the return of a lost lover, or more riches. It worked in a way that was under the law’s radar; for instance, the commission of a crime of passion in plain sight with no fingerprints, no eyewitnesses, no mercy. The wish seeker had to provide a reason for the request, for there was always a price that went beyond financial compensation… Besides, he never got out unscathed.

  Shahzad often had to go through a set of rituals before granting the request, and those private ceremonies required time and concentration. It could be quite strenuous. Rarely were wishes granted ‘just because.’

  He blew out swirls of smoke as he contemplated his situation. Things had gotten challenging. This was a new one, to say the least.

  Honestly, she doesn’t fucking qualify in the traditional sense, but she’s no ordinary person…

  One thing that was ordinary about her though was that she didn’t have a fat bank account. No expendable cash, and on her best day she could never afford the likes of him. In fact, she was as broke as a twig stomped on by a pregnant elephant. Typically, he’d be disgusted with such poverty, but once again, she’d surprised him with her grace, humor, and life navigation skills. To make matters worse for him, her wishes were, dare he admit it, rather noble.

  Sure, there was the whole cheating ex-boyfriend thing he’d seen a million times over. It was the typical fanfare – a desire for revenge when one shared their cock with others in the family tree, community dick if you will. But then there were real life issues she’d brought to the table and she didn’t ask for much; just a little relief. What in the hell was he going to do? Why was he drawn to her? Summoned? He drifted into her place of business like a leaf blowing in the wind. He heard her desires, pulled over his Lexus, and hurried to her while he’d been on his way to an important gala. He’d had a hunch this simply couldn’t wait. Something about her aura had drawn her to him, and well, vice versa.

  He could almost see her dreams… She’d thought about him a time or two and though she hadn’t called per his request, she still had the napkin he’d written upon. He could feel it in his bones.

  To add insult to injury, she was drop dead gorgeous. Sure, he’d seen his fair share of attractive women all around the world but New York was like a vending machine of sugary and salty eye candy. Some pieces were stale, others fresh and soft, practically melting in your mouth. Whatever ‘type’ you wanted, it was there… with a price. Some got stuck on their way down after you’d made your final selection, and no amount of rocking, cursing, and fist-thumping would make them do your bidding. Others fell out for free in a two-for-one deal. Like those savory, sexy Brazilian twins he’d bedded a few months ago…

  Then there were ones like her, who always sold out too fast before you even knew they existed, gone like limited time free tickets to a concert in the city. What remained was an empty slot waiting to be refilled – a prize not yet acquired, a horrible reminder that you were one second too late, and two cents too short. He’d been in New York for the past 132 years and had his pick of pussy, but this one? She glowed from the inside out.

  Damn… He licked then smacked his lips. I want to taste her…

  She was a damn good person, an unassuming, gorgeous, unsoiled sou
l who somehow managed to keep her humanity and care for others in a brutal city that never slept and definitely never wept. There was no such thing as pity and kindness here. It was a metropolitan full of thrivers, connivers and survivors, and the ones who fell by the wayside never made the cut. One thing was for certain: Shahzad wasn’t known for his care and love for humanity, either. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed this city so much. It was soulless at times, yet ripe with culture and the desire to rise up from the ashes. The people were made of granite, but behind the hard perimeters lived beating hearts. Every once in a while you’d find a unicorn, a person who still gave a damn.

  And she was it.

  I hate this shit! With a hiss, he turned and smashed his cigar in a black glass ashtray that floated in the air next to him. It felt icky to be… what was the word? Infatuated. Yes, that was it.

  This isn’t my speed! Why in the fuck do I care about what she’s doing or where she’s at or what she fucking needs?! She’s not worth my time. There’s nothing she can do for me but get fucked. I want her to choke on my dick…

  But I want to lay with her and feed her soul, too…

  Shit!

  He was known for his coins, cash, conceit, charisma and cruelty, but he knew a rare possession when he saw it. Vivian had a soul. She had class. She had beauty. She had compassion. She wasn’t a fool, though. In fact, she seemed well in the know. Intelligence – she had it in spades.

  She had to learn the hard way to stop giving people the benefit of the doubt. That was her biggest flaw.

  Most people are shitty. Humans are fuckers. They’re not bright, on top of it all. They’re overly emotional and irrational. Clowns. They’re like headless rats running around in a heap of trash struggling to find that one piece of moldy cheese. But they’re fun to watch.

  Coming to a decision, he grabbed his gold and black cellphone and dialed.

  “Hello, Adison.” Adison was Shahzad’s personal assistant. He was a NY native and handled much of his local work. As busy as Shahzad was on a daily basis, Adison was a much needed entity. He was a lower level Jinn, unable to grant wishes to mortals, but could shapeshift and had a go-getter personality.

  “Hello, Mr. Haidar. What can I do for ya today?”

  “I wish for you to find the address of an apartment rented by a Ms. Vivian in Inwood. She just moved in.”

  “Vivian…” He could hear the guy scrounging about for paper and pen.

  “I could do it myself, but why should I when I’m paying you to take care of such matters?”

  “I agree. I like gettin’ paid, and paid nicely I might add. So, give me the details of this Vivian broad…”

  “She’s about 5’8, Black, 160-165 lbs., medium brown complexioned, beautiful, black curly hair that hits right below her shoulders. Large, dark brown eyes, one dimple on her left cheek, a slight gap between her two front teeth, a tattoo of a dove on her right shoulder.”

  “Last name, sir?”

  “I do not know her last name.”

  “That’s gonna require some creativity on my part. No problem. I’ll manage.”

  “I’m certain you will. To assist you, however, I also took a photo of her with my phone without her knowledge, but it didn’t turn out the best. She was moving around a lot. I will send it anyway.”

  “Maybe I can track her to make this easier. Does she have a job I can follow her from?”

  “Yes. She works as a bartender at Tanner Smith. After you find her residence, I want to purchase that building so give me the owner’s name and contact information.”

  “You bet.”

  “No cost is too high, but I expect dramatic negotiations. I will show up to sign the paperwork once the price is worked out and agreed upon.”

  “What if the owner refuses?” Adison burst out laughing, clearly knowing the answer in advance. Perhaps he simply enjoyed the banter.

  “You’re already well aware of what will happen, but I will humor you nevertheless. If my final offer is refused, I will take the property from the proprietor, and punish them too for wasting my fucking time.”

  “Atta boy!”

  “Oh, one more thing.” He adjusted his watch and leaned against the window. The sky was streaked with gorgeous shades of purple and pink. So sweet and feminine like the lush folds of a wet pussy. “Make sure that an apartment close to hers is empty, preferably right next door or across the hall. If not, make one empty by buying the tenant out or I will have to resort to more, shall we say, hands-on measures.” He laughed. “I need this taken care of ASAP. I don’t have time to play with my prey.”

  “All right, I’ll get it done as fast as I can… clearing my schedule now.”

  “Good. You know I’m impatient. I beg, plead, or wait for nothing. She wished for me. Now here the fuck I am.”

  “He did WHAT?!” Vivian stood in the middle of her tiny living room surrounded by half unpacked boxes covered in tape and black sharpie marker. Her television showcased some paternity court show; a loud-mouthed White lady ranted and raved about some Hispanic guy who’d knocked her up while being already married. She picked up the remote and put the damn thing on mute.

  “You heard me.” Her cousin chortled.

  Her computer was on, playing music. ‘Candy’, by Doja Cat. She raced over to it and turned the sound down, not believing her ears. This had to be some mistake churned by the rumor mill.

  “Are you sure?” Her lips curled in a smile. A wave of guilt hit her like a tidal wave then, upsetting her, so she swallowed the bit of joy she felt at the horrible news.

  “You heard me, Viv. Aunt Sara told me that David fell down his work stairs and broke his leg about a couple weeks or so ago. Once he was released from the hospital, he went home. The story goes that he was cooped up in the apartment bored to death, so he did what bored people do: snoop. He went through her things. That’s when he found out that April was cheating with not one, but two other guys. So now, his job is on the line from being out of work so long, he is in physical therapy for Lord only knows how long, and his relationship with your cousin has gone KABOOM!”

  Vivian leaned against the kitchen wall she’d just washed down with Fabuloso and sighed. That damn grin came creeping again. She pursed her lips, trying to make it go away.

  I’m awful! Am I? No, not really. It’s not like the motherfucker is dead. He lived. He’ll survive.

  “Why are you so quiet? I thought you’d be thrilled, Viv. I know I am… that son of a bitch!”

  “As much as I can’t stand him, I have mixed feelings about his leg being broken. That’s rough.”

  “Oh well. Too damn bad. He used the thing between his legs to cause you months of anxiety and rage. Serves him right.”

  “I can’t disagree with that, Kamila. I never wanted him to get physically hurt per se but definitely won’t lose sleep over it and I am not a bit sorry about him and April. He had the audacity to act as if he’d upgraded when he and I had our final blow up about that shit. I told him that anyone who’d fuck over family for a man was a piece of shit, and he’d soon see her true colors and she’d see his. They deserved one another.”

  “Yup, he got on stage to perform his two-timing song and broke a leg for his performance. Literally.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “Well, thanks for the update. I may order me a nice delivery dinner in celebration,” she teased.

  “Oh, you better save room for dessert then, too. I’m not finished yet,” her cousin continued. “Girl, when he confronted April, she didn’t deny it. She said yup, and accused him of being broke and bad in bed… blamed him for her infidelity, said it was all his fault for not paying enough attention to her. He then told her she had to get her shit and go.”

  “Let me guess? She refused to leave, right?”

  “You already know. Mary couldn’t get ’er out of her house either once she’d moved in. She’s a moocher. Anyway, he said he was going to start a thirty-day eviction on her since the lease was only in his na
me. She ignored him and acted like he just needed to get over it. So, later that night, she went out with friends and when she got back, he had set all of her shit on fire!”

  “No! He pulled a ‘Waiting to Exhale?’”

  “Angela Bassett in full effect, only he got EXACTLY what he deserved, too! He tried to send her to Hell with gasoline draws on. The damn fire department was at their crib when she waltzed back in there, probably with dick and cheap ass Mogen David on her breath!”

  Now Vivian needed a chair to sit in. Her mouth salivated at the juicy gossip. There was no way karma could be this generous and perfect! But it was… Oh, it truly was! She couldn’t have orchestrated a better revenge ploy if she’d designed it herself. She pulled out a chair and plopped down in it, not knowing quite what to do with herself. But that damn smile returned with a vengeance.

  “Well.” Vivian shook her head. “I’m sure she moved her ass out then.”

  “Yes, and she wanted to file charges against him but he said it was an accident, that he was lighting a candle and it fell. He threw some of his own clothes in there too to make it look legit, so no charges were filed. Now her ass is living with one of her friends until I guess she gets back on her feet.”

  On her feet? She’d been lying on her back after she stole my man the entire time… Seems she can’t stand up to save her life.

  “So, I just had to call and tell you as soon as I found out. I know it’s been a long time since you spoke to him, and you probably don’t even care, but that’s what happened according to Sara and you know she don’t really like any drama or anything, but word spreads fast at home. Karma is a bitch and she lit that shit on fire!”

  “With as nasty as they both are, that’s probably not the only thing burnin’.”

  Her cousin burst out laughing. Vivian had to admit, it was shocking and funny, too. Suddenly, she heard the doorbell ring. Her brows furrowed.