Page 2 of My Enemy Next Door

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It was ten times smaller than my ex-boyfriend’s space, and that was quite the feat since he was currently serving time in federal prison.

“So,” he said, “I know this seems like a lot of work, but there’s true charm here. You mentioned getting out of a bad relationship and wanting to finally live like a ‘successful lawyer,’ so what better way to start a new life than moving into a fixer upper?”

“Um …” I tried to think of something positive to say, something other than, “I think we’re both breathing in asbestos at this moment.”

Before I could tell him that I wanted to leave and move on to the next apartment, he walked past me.

“Let me show you something cool that we missed in the kitchen.” He motioned for me to follow, and I reluctantly trailed him once more.

“Check this out! This is the only apartment in this entire building that has this feature.”

I watched as he tugged on the edge of the counter for several seconds, until it extended and became two feet longer.

“Your breakfast nook just transformed from a place for one, to a place for two.” He winked. “There’s plenty of space in the breakfast nook for you and whichever lucky guy you choose to invite over for sex. I’m available for that, you know.”

I rolled my eyes at his blatant ‘come-on’ and walked over to the window. Even though this place was now off my consideration list, I decided to run through my usual questions anyway.

“Where is the soundproof room?” I asked.

“The what?”

“The soundproof room.” I looked over at him. “The ad specifically mentioned that every suite comes with a soundproof room. Where is that?”

“Oh, um that depends. Why do you need one?”

“It’s for something I do on the side,” I said. “I’ve mentioned needing one to you multiple times.”

“Right, right. Do you sing seductive songs whenever you’re not lawyering, or something?” He looked as if he was gearing up to serve me another cheesy line.

I didn’t give him any space; I simply waited for him to answer my question.

“This listing may have exaggerated things a bit,” he said, finally. “What it should’ve said was that there’s a soundproof area in the basement that is available for all tenants to use.”

“You were the one who suggested this listing.” I crossed my arms. “Did you know how bad it was before we arrived?”

“It’s not bad at all.” He looked offended. “I mean, what do you honestly expect for under three thousand dollars a month in New York?” He ran a hand through his hair. “You should be grateful that I set up the rat traps before we arrived.”

“You know what?” I stepped back. “I think I need to go with another realtor. Thank you for showing me nothing but former crime scenes and unfinished places for the past few weeks.”

“No, wait.” He moved in front of me. “Look. All of the ones I’ve shown you tonight belong to me and my girlfriend. We’re trying to rent out a few of them to make extra money.”

“You should probably invest in cleaning them first,” I said. “And wait a minute. How do you possibly have a girlfriend if you’ve been implying sex with me on every tour?”

“I have to do whatever it takes to get the sale. Besides, you have D-cups and plump lips. It’s your fault, really. You’ve been tempting me.”

I gave him a blank stare.

“I’m sure you tell your little legal clients bullshit all the time.” He didn’t look sorry in the slightest. “Anyway, my girlfriend and I are more than willing to make some adjustments to this place until you’re happy. I’m sure she’ll be okay with me knocking off fifty dollars off the rent as well. I’ll knock off a hundred, if you do your own fumigating.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” I turned around and walked toward the door. As I struggled to turn the knob, it fell to the floor.

A family of ants immediately swarmed all over it.

“If you agree to stay, l won’t make you pay for that damage you just caused.” The two-timer stepped next to me. “I can draw up a pretty generous security deposit offer.”

“If you keep talking, I’ll sue you for false advertising.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then he walked away.

I thought so. I stepped out into the hall and took the stairway instead of the elevator, just in case that strange cable-snapping sound I heard earlier wasn’t all in my head.

Returning to the waiting cab out front, I buckled my seatbelt and let out a breath.

“Where to next, Miss?” The driver raised his eyebrow. “Oh, wait. Where is the realtor guy?”

“Probably counting rats and roaches,” I said. “I know you’ve been chauffeuring me around for hours, but can you please take me to the best condos with leasing offices? I don’t want to deal with a realtor anymore.”


Tags: Whitney G. Romance