"Is she all right? What about Jack?" I had some truly remarkable friends, and they made it much easier when times were rough, like right then. Her concern and the shitty news about the cars made me choke up. "Rachel?" she asked urgently.
"I'm sorry, Jaz, Jack is fine. They're both fine, but the car, that's another story. And the rain made the stairs to the apartment slippery. I bumped my shin hard enough to leave a lump. So can someone take my spot?"
"Yes, no problem. Gemma has been begging for more hours. By the way, he came back in, and he was asking for you," she said.
"Uh, you'll have to be more specific. Who are you talking about?" I slipped out of my raincoat and kicked off my wet shoes.
Jasmine made a scoffing sound. "Are you sure you only bumped your shin? You know, Mr. Maserati, the mysterious rich man with the Rolex who is just handsome enough to have the other girls tripping over themselves to get to know him better. But he was asking about you."
"Oh him," I said. I walked in and started the shower. The pipes made their usual clanging sound. It would be a good five minutes before hot water came out. I'd let Bert, the building manager, know that fixing the hot water heating system would pay for itself considering the amount of water wasted waiting for it to heat.
"Oh him," Jasmine repeated. "Look, we've all had our share of—not sure what to call 'em?—"
"I think stalker is the word you're looking for," I said.
"Well, a stalker can be tolerated if he drives a Maserati and wears an expensive watch. Besides, he's a nice guy. He hasn't tried anything with you, has he?"
"No, he's polite. Anyhow, I'm standing in wet clothes, and I need to get into the shower. Thanks for getting Gemma to cover."
"Give my hugs to Jack."
The shower felt even better than expected. I stayed in there until the hot water supply started to fizzle. I pulled on sweatpants and my favorite flannel shirt. I was looking forward to a quiet night with Jack and Mom.
Dinosaur roars were coming from the kitchen. Mom was standing in the entryway staring at a green piece of paper. "What's that?" I asked.
She looked up, and a worried line creased her forehead. "It was just slipped under the door. Oh, sweetie, I'm afraid it's more bad news."
We were both startled by a frantic knock at the door. "Ray, are you there?" It was Helen, our neighbor. A bad back had caused her to retire early from her nursing career, and she was living on disability checks.
Mom opened the door. Helen had the same green piece of paper clutched tightly in her fist. "Did you read this? Can you believe they just shoved it under the door?" She was addressingme, but I was still in the dark about what the green paper contained. However, I was starting to get an inkling.
"Is this about the sale of the building?" I asked. "Bert said there'd be no changes. Just a transfer of ownership and that we'd hardly know it happened." I'd hoped that a new owner would mean new paint and better plumbing, but I was just as happy to keep the status quo.
Helen's dry laugh sounded like a bark. "You didn't read it?"
I took the paper from Mom, realizing that she'd been trying to keep it from me for as long as possible. Once I read the message, I knew why.
"Starting next month rents on single apartments will increase $400 and doubles will increase $600. Renovations on the exterior buildings will start next month so expect some noise and disruptions in your routine. In one year, the Starfield Apartments will be converted to owner-occupied condominiums. Call this number if you are interested in purchasing a condo." I finished reading and reread it with just my eyes to make sure I wasn't imagining it. I wasn't.
I looked up at both women. "Excuse my language, but fuck, fuck, fuck."
eight
. . .
Ronan
Some of the best times in my life were spent sitting around with my family. No drinking, no crowded bar, no hot women, although that last one was still at the top of my best times list. Indi and Jameson hustled around their kitchen cooking a pot roast, complete with potatoes, carrots and homemade rolls. Rio was finishing her homework, and I was sitting at the kitchen counter with a mostly flimsy offer to help with the dinner. Indi pulled cold sodas out of the fridge and popped one down on the counter in front of me.
"I'd prefer a beer," Jameson said.
Indi attempted to flash him a secretive scowl. I knew exactly what she was doing.
"Indi, it's fine. I'm not a raging alcoholic. Only acted like one this past year." I'd confided in Indi letting her know that I was trying to dry out. Getting drunk had caused me too many fights, bad decisions and job losses. After Mike slammed me into the trash bin, leaving me with a ringing in my head that only recently stopped, I knew I had to give up the excessive partying. I had a new job and the boss, Doris, was smart. Nothing got past her. She would know exactly when someone showed up hungover or still drunk. I'd seen her send two crew memberspacking, and it was only the first week on the job. "I promise I won't jump him and wrestle the beer out of his hand."
Jameson scoffed. "Like to see you try, bro." He returned the soda to the fridge and pulled out a beer. "Hmm, tasty," he said after a gulp.
Indi smacked him on the shoulder. "Asshole. Hey sweetie, can you cut the salad greens?"