Filed to story: Secret Shifters Next Door Series PDF Free
She glanced up after putting the phone down and waved me over. “Okay, come on up. Sorry, busy day. What can I do for you? I have an apartment showing in thirty minutes.”
“Uh…” Her brusque nature made me uncomfortable. “I rented an apartment for a couple of months.”
She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “An apartment for two months? We don’t rent by the month. Six-month leases only. You must have the wrong place.”
Without another word, she went back to shuffling papers and looked like she was getting ready to leave. My heart skipped a beat, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Mustering every ounce of courage I had, I cleared my throat. “No, this is the right place. I have a confirmation email.”
She glanced back at me with such irritation that my skin flushed hot. Any type of confrontation always sent me into a spiral of anxiety, fear, and exhaustion. It was why I usually stayed home all the time. It wasn’t agoraphobia exactly, but it was probably only a couple of steps away from it.
The woman put her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow at me. “Ma’am, we’ve never done month-to-month leases. I don’t know what information you have, but that is not something we do.”
“Karen? What was that?” called a voice from the back office.
An older woman who looked a little worried walked up to the counter. The woman I’d been dealing with looked at her and gestured toward me. “Yeah, Becky, this lady says she rented an apartment from us for just two months. I keep telling her that’s not something we do.”
I wanted to shrink into the floor, disappear, melt away. They were talking about me like I wasn’t there. It was disrespectful, but I was too timid to do anything or interject. That fact made me even more irritated at myself. I wished, at that moment, that I had the courage of all the heroes and heroines in my books.
“She does have a month-to-month lease, Karen,” Becky said; the lilt of her voice was obviously trying to get some unspoken message across. Karen seemed unable to get the subtlety of the exchange. Instead of agreeing with Becky, she furrowed her brow again and shook her head.
“No, we don’t. Since when?”
Becky gave me a pained smile before turning back to Karen. “If you’d read the email I sent out a month ago, you’d know. We have two units that are booked for long-term leases next year. They can’t move in until March, and we didn’t have a six-month block of time for the rental. I listed them as short terms about two weeks ago.” To reinforce the matter, she again added, “This was all in the email I sent out.”
Karen threw her hands up in disgust. “Well, I’m sorry, I never saw it. I’ll let you deal with this.” She waved at me dismissively. “I have a showing in fifteen minutes. I need to go, or I’ll be late.”
Karen slung a bag over her shoulder and stomped out without another word or an apology to me. Not wanting to
instigate another argument, I kept my eyes downturned as she left. When I finally had the courage to look up, the woman named Becky rubbed her temples and gritted her teeth. As soon as she noticed me looking at her, she plastered a smile on her face.
“I’m sorry about that.” She glanced over her shoulder conspiratorially. “She’s the owner’s sister. I’m sure you understand.”
I nodded sheepishly, but I didn’t really understand. I was an only child, and the only siblings I’d had were of the foster variety. I was a writer, though, so I got the gist. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“It’s not, but we’ll try to fix it. Are you Miss Santos? Celina?”
“Yes, that’s me. I only got into town ten minutes ago.”
“Oof, I’m sorry Karen was your first experience with Lilly Valley. Trust me, it gets a lot better. Anyway, all I need is your ID, a credit card on file for the auto-withdrawal lease you set up, and your license plate number to register your car with the parking spot that comes with the apartment.”
I went through the registration process in a daze. I was fully drained by the interaction with Karen and took the keys with little fanfare. Becky walked me to the door and stepped into the parking lot with me. She pointed down the street. “Right there is your new place. It’s close, so that’s good. Top floor. If you have any questions, we’re here Monday to Friday, regular business hours.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
I went to my car and drove the three blocks to the apartment building. Grabbing my small suitcase, I walked up the stairs to the top floor, found my door, unlocked it, and went in. Without paying any attention to the space that would be my home for the next two months, I walked straight to the bathroom and went inside. The door closed behind me, leaving me in darkness. I leaned back against the wall and slid down to the floor.
Thankfully, no tears came, just a bone-deep weariness. The altercation with the woman at the rental office had leached my energy.
After nearly thirty minutes, my vitality levels went back to normal. This was how I’d always re-centered myself when I was younger. Years of living in shitty foster homes had given me loads of deep-seated issues and weird coping mechanisms. It still rankled me that my childhood was so ingrained in me.
Standing, I flipped the light switch on and squinted through the sudden brightness. The room was actually fairly large. There was a pedestal sink with a mirrored cabinet above it, a toilet, and a pretty big shower. To say I was surprised was an understatement. I’d assumed I would be getting a tiny starter apartment for the price. The pictures online looked pretty and apparently hadn’t been camera tricks.
Out in the living area, I found a fairly decent open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen. Everything was clean and well taken care of. The bedroom was just off the living room, and the king-sized bed took up most of the space, but that was fine by me. The closet was small, but I had no plans of increasing my wardrobe while I was here.
My stomach grumbled, and I glanced at the refrigerator. Groceries were the first necessity. I found a welcome packet for new renters on the little kitchen island, which blessedly had a grocery circular with coupons. The address was on the back, so I tucked it into my pocket and rushed back to my car, not paying attention to the rest of the complex.
The grocery store was small, but oh my gosh, it was gorgeous—small and quaint but still well-stocked. It even carried some specialty items that were usually hard to find in larger cities. Shopping there was a pleasant experience and almost a Zen moment. After picking up the necessities, I was in a much better mood and decided to make a bigger run later.
Back at the apartment, I lugged the three grocery bags up to the top floor before going back for the rest of my bags. I stopped halfway up on my second trip to catch my breath. It would have been nice if this place had an elevator. During this last trip, I noticed there was only one other apartment on the top floor, which I found strange. Layouts like this were usually reserved for penthouses in the city. My place was nice, but it was definitely not a penthouse.
Once back inside, I pulled up the rental agreement and saw that it was, indeed, called penthouse-style. I chuckled to myself. Strange way of phrasing it, but it was basically right. This could be a good thing or a bad thing. What if the person who lived across the hall liked to play drums at two in the morning? Maybe it was for the best, though. I wouldn’t have to have awkward interactions with a bunch of neighbors or make small talk. The mere thought of that stressed me out.
After getting most of my things situated and putting a frozen pizza into the oven to bake, I went back to my front door. A little window at eye level allowed me to look across the hall at my neighbor’s door. I wondered what they were like. My writer’s mind did what it always did: it built a fantasy.
He was a gorgeous, sexy, special agent, only in town to complete a mission. The mission was to watch out for and protect me. Someone rich and powerful had it out for me, and this guy had taken the apartment across from me to make sure I was safe. Bad guys would be around every corner, and he’d swoop in to save me, and we’d go on an adventure at the last minute.
Biting my lip, I sank deeper into the fantasy, my eyes glazing over. We’d run across the country, encountering problem after problem. The rich guy would be on our heels because he wanted me for some nefarious reason. Death was around every corner, and we’d always manage to escape by the slimmest margins.
Then one night, the sexy special would confess that he was in love with me. He’d pull me close and kiss me like I’d never been kissed in my life. His hands would roam across my body, slipping under my shirt and?—
