My prayers fell on deaf ears.
The landlord was outside, dumping an armload of my stuff out onto the curb.
Chapter Three
Chase
Slightly tipsy but no less jovial, I made my way up the sidewalk from where the taxi let me off — the driver not quite understanding my directions. Ann and I had drunk until it was dark, as was our custom, and we decided to share a cab.
Ann lived much closer to the bar than I did. As I understood it, she owned her own house, where she lived with her son, stepdaughter, and husband. I really couldn’t understand the appeal — since Etta turned me off of commitments — but she seemed happy with the arrangement.
Shouts hit my ears before I had even crested the hill. Evictions were a common enough scene in this part of town, and I had a good idea of what was happening before I arrived. Sure enough, I was right, though I was a bit surprised by the exact circumstances.
There were piles of stuff on the sidewalk next to my building. It all looked haphazardly thrown as if it was trash and not some poor woman’s possessions. An old crib was slumping into the road. It would cause a mess of trouble in the morning.
“You said I had until the end of the month!” protested the attractive, young single mom who lived across the hall from me. She had been there with her daughter for about six months. We had never really spoken except passing in the hallway, but I had already gathered that her name was Ashlyn. She was in her early twenties, despite looking more like she was in her teens, and her kid was named Katie. I wasn’t particularly trying to pry. I could just be really observant with my neighbors —especially when the neighbor had a figure that could stop traffic.
“And it is the end of the month,” I heard the greasy landlord snap, in a classic dick move. “But I’m looking for a job!” Ashlyn protested. “Do you have one?” The landlord asked, looking like he knew full well that she didn’t. “Well, no but—” “You’re not looking hard enough, then,” the jerk said, dropping another load of what I assumed to be her stuff on the curb. “I’ll get you the money!” Ashlyn cried. “How? Turning tricks?” the landlord snarled. “Either way, you won’t get paid in time to pay off your back rent by Sunday, so why waste time? Better to get it done now, so it is over with, like pulling off a band-aid. I need paying renters in this unit, not some lazy bitch.”
It could have been how needlessly mean he was being — the ‘turning tricks’ comment was really uncalled for — or how desperate she was, or even his flagrant disrespect for the law. Deadlines were not really subject to revision on the grounds of personal convince. Either way, something happened inside my head, and I found myself marching with newfound clarity into the scene.
“Excuse me, is there a problem?” I asked, heading straight for the landlord. “Nothing that won’t be solved soon,” the landlord snapped and gestured with his head for me to leave them alone.
Despite his bullshit front, I saw the jerk take half a step back as most men did when they saw me coming toward them. Including bailiffs, cops, opposing council, even a few judges. It was easy to understand why. I was well over six feet tall, with the build of a retired, well-trained soldier and had a facial structure which gave me what even my dearest friends called ‘resting psycho face’ like I might just start stabbing someone at any time. An impression reinforced by the slim, white scar on my forehead above my left eyebrow. A souvenir from my time as a guest of the Taliban.
I didn’t think the landlord knew how he reacted, but it didn’t matter. I had seen it and already knew that I had an advantage. The bastard was scared.
“By dumping more on the curb?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure that is illegal, by the way.” “This worthless bitch didn’t pay her fuckin’ rent. So, I get to throw her ass out and free up the apartment for someone who will pay the fuckin’ rent,” the landlord said as though quoting scripture.
“But I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Ashlyn sobbed. Her baby started to cry. “How for overdue is it?” I asked. “A month, but it doesn’t really matter.” “Did you write the lease yourself?” I asked, the intended insult, of course, going right over his tiny little head.
“There is no lease! Who the fuck are you, anyway? Haven’t I seen you around here before?” the landlord asked. Finally, the opening I was hoping for. With some great flourish, I got out my cardholder, knocking one of the bone-white beauties into my hand, and proffering it to the landlord. “Chase Stanford, real estate attorney.” “Howell and Howell,” the landlord read off the card, his expression dropping. “Of course,” I said, with my most winning smile. “Doesn’t matter,” the landlord repeated, trying to give back the card. “Remember the Vallenti case?” I asked, keeping my cool. “Well, yeah, of course, it was in all the papers but, but—” “That was me,” I said, with my best impersonation of a friendly grin. “I-I-” he stammered, his bravado abandoning him along with his words. “Tell you what, how about we make things simple?”
“How’s that?” the cute young mother asked. “Well, Ashlyn, right?” “Yes.” She looked up at me with wide blue eyes. Tears were threatening to leak down her pink cheeks, and her face was pale like she hadn’t eaten in days.
“You and Katie can stay with me until we get things worked out. That way, the landlord will have his place back, and you won’t be rendered homeless by his stupid choices.” A look of worry moved through her eyes. There was fear there, but the desperation of her situation won out. “Sounds good to me,” Ashlyn whispered, pulling her daughter tighter to her. “Hey!” the landlord said, finally figuring out that I was probably insulting him. “Now, now, no need for that.” “Like fuck, there isn’t! I—” “Arguments tend to make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” I said, leaning down so we were eye to eye, adding just a little bit of a growl to my usual tone. “No,” the landlord agreed, taking another full step back. “Good, I’m glad we understand each other. Now, help me get this stuff back inside.” “Yes, sir!” the landlord shouted like he was going to salute. “I live in unit 301,” I said, helpfully. Without another word, he picked up a huge armload of Ashlyn’s stuff and ran back into the building like his pants were on fire.
Chapter Four
Ashlyn
It was like something out of a fairytale. There I was, a damsel in some deep distress at the hands of the evil goblin king when, out of nowhere, came a knight in shining Armani to rescue me with his cunning. I wasn’t really a cruel person, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel just a little bit of joy seeing the nasty landlord so thoroughly deflated and debased by someone who was clearly a better man.
The sight was so strange it actually took a while before my brain could comprehend what was happening. The guy from across the hall was actually coming to my aid. And with some style too. It was amazing how little he feared the landlord, considering he could have thrown us both out at any time. Yet there he stood, tall and proud as any hero, giving the evil little goblin what for.