Landlord Wars(2)

I took in a deep breath and willed myself to remain calm. “The, ah, mess you mentioned will be tidied as soon as I’m able to spend a weekend putting everything away.”

Note to self: stuff unmentionables inside bedroom once Landlord Devil leaves.

I’d been working at Green Aesthetic for six months—not long enough for me to get time off due to emergency relocations when fancy apartments become available. Waiting until the weekend to finish unpacking would have to do. “Did you need anything else?”

His eyes narrowed, as though he didn’t trust a word I said. “I came by to welcome you to the neighborhood. I live upstairs.”

My chest spasmed, and I choked. “Oh…that’s…nice.”

He lived upstairs? Shit.

Max glanced past me once more. Given the twinkle in his eye, he was taking a final look at my panties. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

How was I supposed to enjoy my evening with a judgy asshole living above me?





The next morning, the living room was back to tidiness—because I’d stayed up late hauling moving boxes into my bedroom and putting clothes away in my new IKEA chest of drawers that had taken me two hours to build. I was a people pleaser, even for lordly asses like Maxwell Burrows. It was a problem.

I held my cell phone to my ear and rubbed my temple. “You can’t come over tonight,” I told Elise, my younger sister, as I sorted socks in the dresser drawer.

The sound of chomping came through the receiver. Somehow, Elise subsisted primarily on a diet of corn chips yet still had muscle tone. It was super annoying. “Why? What happened?”

I wished the reason she couldn’t come over was because my bedroom looked like a tornado had blown through it, but that wasn’t it. “I met my landlord.”

“And?”

“He’s nosy.”

The crunching ceased. “I can stay with Mom tonight,” she said.

Up until now, I’d been living at my mom’s, along with my sister, in the outer Sunset neighborhood of San Francisco. I’d averaged four hours of sleep a night while commuting from home and helping my boss at Green Aesthetic catch up on overdue projects. Victor, the owner, had needed a designer-manager for over a decade. Hence the reason I was overworked. But working with Victor was a steppingstone to bigger things, and I adored him, even if the paycheck didn’t leave much after my expenses.

For a while there, I worried I’d never be able to afford my own place, given the housing costs in San Francisco. Those had been dark times. But all that changed the day I happened upon Jack’s listing for a bedroom plus private bath inside his apartment in a Victorian building.

By some miracle, I’d been checking the online listings in Jack’s neighborhood seconds after he posted. Given its location a few blocks from my work, in one of the nicest neighborhoods in the city, I never thought I’d be able to afford a place in Russian Hill.

I never figured out why Jack had listed the room so inexpensively. He’d mentioned something when I applied about wanting to pass on the discount, which I hadn’t quite followed, but I wasn’t about to tell him the price should be double. I’d been so excited when he offered the room to me that my hands had shaken for days, up until Jack dropped the key in my palm and I officially knew it was mine. Dozens of people had to have applied to rent it. But I was the first, according to Jack, and I had met his requirements.

Only that wasn’t entirely true. Jack had wanted a single renter (as opposed to a couple or two friends sharing a room) who didn’t own pets. I didn’t have a pet, but I planned to stash my sister in my room as often as possible.

“I wish you only had to stay at Mom’s for one night,” I told Elise. “But it’s not that simple.”

Our mom was as sweet as they came. She also had major issues that had traumatized me and Elise growing up. Even if my mom refused to get help, I could finally pull my sister out of the stressful living situation as often as possible.

As soon as Jack had offered me the room, my mind formed all sorts of fantasies where Elise stayed with me instead of living at Mom’s full-time. According to the sublease, Elise could crash seven days consecutively, but she couldn’t stay indefinitely. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was better than the alternative: Elise living under Mom’s roof until she graduated from her nursing program and got a full-time job. And now I was terrified of what Landlord Devil would do if he discovered I was going to take advantage of the sleepover clause. He’d hated my panties being out of place; what would he say if he saw Elise staying here on a regular basis?

“I’ll continue to pay Mom’s mortgage,” I told my sister. “You’ll move out soon. I promise.”

I could afford to support my mom and Elise. Sort of. Sharing this room with my sister part-time at Jack’s apartment was supposed to be the transition piece in the overall plan. And then Maxwell Burrows had shown up and freaked me out with his threat about not causing trouble. Which had me worrying I was being troublesome.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. My hyper-responsibility issues might have begun while growing up with Mom, but I sure as hell didn’t need to drag this shit around with me forever. There had to be a way to make this new housing situation work. I would not let the landlord intimidate me.

“So the plan is still on for me to stay with you most of the month?” Elise’s voice rose with optimism.