by Tiana Laveen
“Someone is at my door.”
“Are you expecting company?”
“No, and I didn’t buzz anyone in,” she said in a low whisper.
“Maybe they’re at the wrong apartment.”
Vivian got to her feet to make her way to look out the peephole, and saw it was the creepy property manager.
Oh, great. The human boil is here.
“Hold on, it’s the Sup.” With phone still in hand, she unlocked the deadbolt and removed the chain, then the bottom lock. There the sleazy bastard stood, smelling of fried foods and funk. He was still sporting the same slouchy pants he always wore, along with a thick, mustard colored sweater that flattened his man-boobs. He shoved a piece of paper in her face.
“New owner,” he said between a bunch of phlegm-riddled coughs. Turning away for a spell, he coughed into the bend of his elbow. When he focused on her again, his eyes rested on her breasts.
“Oh, great.” She grimaced as she scanned the generic note. “Don’t tell me, rent is going up too, now?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “This isn’t a rent stabilized apartment, so he can do whatever he wants.” She looked down at the typewritten memo detailing the apartment building details. Address… map… schedule for the exterminators. The sheet didn’t say much, but then she about had a heart attack…
IT CAN’T BE! What are the odds of that? Well, maybe that’s a common name in Morocco?
“It says here the new owner’s name is Shahzad Haidar.” She pointed at the bottom of the letter.
“Yeah, so?”
“Have you met him?”
“Yeah. Tall Arab guy. Filthy fuckin’ rich.” The man sucked his teeth as if he, too, were rich now by mere association.
Oh yeah, that guy at the bar did say he was in real estate…
A strange feeling came over her. She wasn’t certain what to make of it. Could it be?
“So, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask ya… me and the wife,” he licked his lips real slow, “we swing, ya know?” He eyed her up and down as if she were the last piece of crispy and perfectly seasoned chicken on Earth.
Ugh…
“I know you probably think you could never get a guy like me, but trust me, I like all types of girls. Some people are intimidated because I’m the manager, but don’t be, all right? Hell, maybe we could even work out somethin’ for a discount on your rent. Would you, uh, be interested? You into that sort of thing?”
Vivian grunted, slammed the door in his hedgehog-looking face and stormed back into her kitchen. It was then she remembered her damn cousin was on the line and had heard the entire sordid exchange.
“Did you hear that shit?”
“Viv, I’m speechless!”
She could tell Kamila was trying to stifle a laugh. Worse yet, the entire family would know about this before the end of the night. She loved her cousin to death, but she was the family gossiper. A true motor mouth. That was her title, and she’d earned it fair and square. “Your Super is nasty as hell! First, you should report his ass. Second, I hope your rent doesn’t go up now that you’ve got a new owner. You’re just gettin’ on your feet and how dare that man offer cheaper rent to fuck him!”
“The Super looks like that ball of snot from the Mucinex commercials so even if I were into threesomes, it wouldn’t be with the likes of him and you can definitely say that again regarding my finances! This guy didn’t get rich by being fair to people, of that I’m sure and if it is the same man I waited on at my job a few weeks ago, then this is super weird!”
“Guy you waited on? Rich by being fair to people? What are you talking about?” Vivian ran down the entire tale but the call was cut short when her cousin had to suddenly get off the phone – her Uber had arrived. Vivian sat there alone, hearing her music and the faint rumble of the television. Holding that piece of paper from Sam, she read it a million times, including the last line which was written in Arabic. She had no idea what it said: ‘أتمنى لك يوما عظيما’ Perhaps it was a salutation of sorts.
Oh, yeah! That’s right! She’d just remembered that the man had given her his personal number when he’d left that generous tip. She’d never called him, but recalled she still had it, crammed in her bedroom dresser drawer next to her ledger where she kept records of what bills she’d paid each week.
I’m not even sure why I kept that napkin…
Several minutes later, she had the little note in hand. The contact number was different from the one on the paper. She sighed with relief. Perhaps they were not the same man after all… but her relief was short-lived. She sat on her couch, thinking and thinking, unable to turn the dread loose.
I don’t know. Something feels strange about this. I need to find out for certain.
She picked up her cell phone and called the number on the paper from the Super. The line rang a few times, then went to voicemail.
‘You’ve reached Shahzad Haidar. I’m unable to take your call right now. Please leave your name and number and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. ‘atamanaa lak yawmaan eazimana.’
‘Um, yes… Mr. Haidar. I recently moved into the Greenwood Apartments that I understand you now own. My name is Vivian Carver, and I live in apartment 12. I had a couple of questions, so if you could call me back at your earliest convenience, I’d greatly appreciate it, thanks. I can be reached at 212-552-9003.” She disconnected the call and stared at the wall, her heart beating so fast, it hurt.
It sounded just like him… his voice was distinctive. I mean, that was a some time ago, but I remember his voice so clearly. It was deep, real deep, almost like it had an echo… It was rumbling, the kind of voice that made you soak your panties after he said a few simple words. He had a slight accent on that voicemail… just like the guy’s at the bar. Not a strong one, just enough to let you know he was from somewhere else. I’m being silly! I mean, anyone could sound like that I guess… No, not really… maybe?
She practically jumped out of her skin when her phone rang.
She looked at the number. It was him…
She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Vivian. It’s Shahzad. Well, isn’t it a small world afterall? I am so glad that you finally called…”
CHAPTER FOUR
Swan Song
At exactly 3:13 P.M., Shahzad sat up in his opulent bed made of gold and black marble, his naked body half-way covered in the white, copper, and black sheets. After a few loud, lazy sighs, he kicked himself into gear. He rarely slept but recently, he found himself having the strangest of dreams, all revolving around HER.
I knew there was much more to this than just a wish being granted…
On the glossy black nightstand sat his favorite night cap, a glowing green potion. He reached for the pewter and ruby chalice and took a long, slow taste. It always relaxed him. Floating beside him was his gold cigar, waiting for its master. The sound of soft violin music wafted in the room as his mind worked overtime, imagining Vivian’s head of lustrous black curls bobbing between his thighs, her lips wrapped around his cock. Her tongue brushed against his length, making him swell, come close to bursting…
Shaking the thought of some premium dome aside, he reached for his phone when it rang.
Damn if that wasn’t another sign: It was her calling. He listened to her intently and quickly addressed her two questions in order to get off the phone as quickly as possible.
He was more of a face-to-face Jinn, never one for meaningless phone or text chitchat, but it was obvious Vivian was rattled to her core as they conversed. He could never understand why humans acted so surprised when their wishes were on the cusp of being granted. He could sense that anxiety through the phone. Typically titillated by such trepidation, this time, her apprehension didn’t sit well with him. Of course he was up to no good! But a part of him, dared he admit it, cared that she was in distress. It was evident by the way her breath hitched, the heavy pauses, the swallows that sounded more like gulps, fid
geting noises and hesitation to keep from saying the wrong thing. Perhaps by now she also knew of the ill fate her ex-boyfriend had succumbed to? And he wasn’t quite through with him yet.
There was still a job to be lost, homelessness to grant, and an unfortunate mugging scheduled for the following week as the target would limp along with a crutch on 42nd street. It was a shame, really. The guy was rather dapper, handsome with potential for success, but he was too stupid to realize he’d found a goldmine. Shahzad shrugged.
Don’t the humans say, ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’?
As far as the cousin, he had further plans for her, too, but the young lady’s level of foolishness almost made him feel a tad sorry for her. She was incapable of forming a single coherent thought, being pretty much someone who’d survived by sheer luck. All she cared about were superficial things such as knockoff designer handbags, seafood dinners at Red Lobster, and frontin’ for the ’gram. His assistant has schooled him about the social media giant so many people loved to post pictures on. They shared photos of their food, inspirational quotes they hardly lived by, and selfies with their butts shoved in cheaply made clothing so they could get those same items for free. Not to mention the ridiculous jokes called ‘memes’ and a slew of… cats. There were millions of adorable videos and photos of the fuckhead furballs to last a feline lover a lifetime.
Regardless, the young lady was as dumb as a doorknob. How could they have come from the same family tree? It baffled him that someone who exhibited such Patrick-the-starfish-from-SpongeBob-like qualities shared the same bloodline with this woman right here. Survival of the fittest had failed. He questioned many things, such as how she’d made it so long in this world, but that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Still, he always had questions about humans; they were fascinating creatures. And Vivian’s questions begged to be answered, too.
She wished to know if the rent prices would be raised now that he was the new sheriff in town. Affirmative. But she wouldn’t have to worry about that for a couple of years, he assured her. Secondly, she wanted some repairs made and didn’t believe that the Super was taking her requests seriously. He assured her it would be addressed, thought he didn’t verbally dignify her concerns regarding the Super. He’d already pegged the son of a bitch.
He’d had the displeasure of meeting the man a couple weeks prior and remembered how he’d wished to set him ablaze on sight. Three alarm fire kind of blaze. He could’ve, with a mere snap of his fingers. Then, he contemplated tossing him into an incinerator. That would have entailed far less clean up, but figured the bastard might be of some use seeing as how he knew his way around and was easily manipulated by low lying fruit. He still rubbed him the wrong way, regardless.
Vivian had even mentioned his sleazy ass in her depressed ramblings at the bar. So, he was stuck between needing the bastard and granting the woman’s deep-seated wish of making him disappear. Only time would tell.
Vivian seemed pleased with his answers and soon, the call ended. Still though, she wasn’t quite comfortable with him. She suspected him of ‘something’, but what that ‘something’ was, she wasn’t quite certain of. It made no difference. A client being suspicious never deterred him from his target. Thing was, as he’d watched her from a distance at her job the previous night, she’d been so busy, she hadn’t noticed him. Well, it helped that he’d used a disguise. He’d studied her movements while falling in love with her laughter and enjoying how she worked the crowd at the bar. She was magnetic, was a shiny, pretty thing… a jewel lost in a mound of rubbish. Shoving the thoughts out of his mind, he grabbed his cigar and smiled.
What about me? It’s time for my wishes to come true, too. I’m about to make my most depraved dreams come alive…
What’s going on here? I thought that red headed man lived in that apartment? Where’d he go?
As if reading her mind, her nice Indian neighbor, Ansh, a middle-aged married guy with two teenage children, stated in almost a whisper, “Gee, they didn’t wait long. Kyle had some sort of heart attack yesterday morning, I think…”
Vivian hadn’t known the guy well, only that he’d seemed to always be awake when she came home late and she could sometimes hear the sounds of videogames playing from his apartment. She’d wished several times he’d just be quiet.
Heart attack though? He couldn’t have been more than thirty years old. Hmm, strange.
Hand on hip, Vivian watched a parade of men rapidly going in and out of apartment 13. They were dressed in white clothing that reminded her of hazmat suits. The apartment across the hall had been re-painted in record time and hefty gold furniture pieces were being hauled inside, along with expensive-looking rugs to boot. Some of the pieces bordered on gaudy, but the intricate tapestries and interesting items were worth watching. She gripped her mug of hot coffee as she and a few other neighbors didn’t shy away or try to hide their nosiness. Who the hell was this new tenant moving into Apartment 13?
There’s a glass desk… That’s pretty. Wait. Is that glass or crystal? Who in their right mind would move here if they were balling like this?! This shit must be worth a fortune.
And then… she nearly swallowed her own damn soul at the sight that greeted her. Swirls of smoke surrounded a tall, broad-shouldered, dark haired man dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and gold tie. He paused, moved his white and crimson cigar casually away from his lips, and winked at her.
Fuck.
“Hello, Vivian.” His voice once again rumbled through her like a freight train plunging into her soul.
“Uh, hi, Shahzad. Are you checking out the property?”
“I’ve already checked out the property. And I like what I see.” A chill went down her spine as he regarded her from head to toe. The man unnerved her, yet, she was strongly attracted to him. It bothered her so; it felt… animalistic. Although she passed it off as a crush, deep down, she knew better. Light and darkness danced in his eyes like ceiling illuminations over a nightclub dancefloor. The hallway felt particularly chilly as he slid his hand into his suit pocket and approached her, getting so close, she could smell his clean scent mixed with rich, expensive cologne. He sweated pure masculinity and swallowed the air around them with his mere presence. She hadn’t truly realized how commanding he was until he stood face to face with her, encroaching on her personal space like her own shadow. She took two steps back. He took one step forward, poised for another step. The hairs on her arms stood on end. His warm, smoke-laden breath, spicy and sweet, made her shudder.
“I like to take a hands on approach to business. Since I’ve heard some complaints from several of the tenants upon the announcement of my taking over, I wanted to set up an office here… at least for just a few months,” he whispered in her ear.
“Oh, so you want to have a literal open-door policy? You care just that much?” She gripped her coffee cup tighter as she glared into his eyes.
“You sound suspicious.” He grinned, as if enjoying how she squirmed before him.
“I am. Are you certain that’s the only reason?” Her heart threatened to beat out of her damn chest. The words poured out like lava! Her intuition was screaming. Only a fool would believe that something more wasn’t afoot. The man burst out laughing so loud, it took her totally off guard. She offered a watered-down smile, and she had no doubt her confusion was painted all over her face.
Everyone started to return to their apartments as the door to Apartment 13 was now slightly ajar. The movers stood inside, speaking Arabic.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, refusing to get side-tracked.
“It’s actually not funny, but, uh, I just enjoy that you came right out with it. Your honesty is refreshing. So, I guess I owe you the truth.”
“You owe me nothing but fair rent and repairs.” She took a sip of coffee, noting her warped reflection in his eyes. Those aren’t contacts. What odd shaped corneas he has…
“I do wish to watch this property closely, but there�
�s a perk I wasn’t aware of not so long ago. You see, I want to get to know you better… much better.”
She shook her head and backed up a smidgen more, her back now almost flush with her own front door. “I’m not interested.”
“Oh? Why not?”
She hated how he smiled wider, not the least bit deterred.
“Well, I’m not really in a place in my life where I can date. As I told you at the bar, things are sort of a mess and I’m the type of woman who likes to have her life together before bringing someone else into it.”
“Ahhh, I see… independent woman.” She nodded, pleased that he understood. “I adore independent women but allow me to let you in on a little secret…” Her heart sunk when he fixed her with a hungry, predatory gaze, like a snake winding about a tree toward a fresh kill. “There really is no perfect time to date, fall in love, have the fuck of your life.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“That’s really inappropriate! I swear if you—”
“Shhh…” He placed one finger against his lips and his deep whisper made her eyes flutter, as if she were about to fall into a restful sleep.
She felt hypnotized, dragged into a place that called for the darkness to come and drag her into the land of slumber. She blinked several times, feeling strange, trying to figure out what was going on.
The sound of keys jiggling in his pocket brought her back to her senses. She took note of his hand inside his pants pocket, as well as the unmistakable bulge of a rock hard dick.
Shit! And unless her eyes were deceiving her,… the damn thing looked humongous.
“I am feeling rather tired.” She yawned. “But between you and the snot-ball, I can see I’m going to have to—”
“Don’t bring me and him up in the same sentence.” His expression dead serious, he waved his finger in her direction. Vexed. His thick, black eyebrows bunched above the bridge of his nose, his forehead a canvas of angry folds, his eyes on fire. “I’m not out of your league. He is. He can offer you nothing but room temperature, off-brand soft drinks, cheap coffee, and old television sets he’s gathered from vacated apartments. I can offer you more than you could ever dream. Your wish is my command.”