The Arrangement
Page 3
We froze as the front door suddenly banged open and closed. There was the resounding KLACK of the heavy iron lock latching itself, and then Nathan strode straight into the kitchen.
SHIT!
“Hey!” he called out cheerily. “What’s for dinner?”
He sniffed around a bit before finally spotting us, standing not-so-innocuously in the hallway. His face broke into a handsome smile.
“Do I smell onions?”
Two
KAYLEEN
“Let me cook for you then,” I pleaded. “Whatever you want. Whatever you like, I’m sure I can—”
But my landlord was already shaking his head. He had his hairy arms folded across his big, barrel chest.
“Clean for you?”
Ugh. I hated cleaning. I could barely keep my own apartment clean, much less someone else’s.
“I don’t need cooking,” said Jerry. “I don’t need cleaning. What I need is the rent.”
It was a timeless tale; girl gets apartment, girl works her fingers to the bone, girl still can’t make rent. It had happened a million times to a million other women. Only now it was happening to me.
“Look, I can get you three-hundred by tomorrow,” I said.
“Rent is eight-hundred.”
“And another two—”
“Eight-hundred,” Jerry grunted. He looked past me, into my little rat-trap of an apartment. I swung the door shut just a little bit more.
“Fine, five tomorrow,” I said. “The other three… on Wednesday?”
Behind me, Beast was pulling hard on my pants leg. His little teeth were scraping my skin, but I tried not cry out.
After all, dogs were forbidden by my lease.
“Tuesday,” Jerry countered finally. “Take the weekend. Forget paying tomorrow, just have the whole thing for me on Tuesday.”
I sighed with relief… until my pants ripped. Beast went tumbling sideways, landing in plain sight.
Jerry frowned. I smiled awkwardly and shrugged.
“You know dogs aren’t—”
“He’s very little,” I offered meekly.
“Still…”
“Tiny. And quiet. So, so quiet. Right beast?”
On cue of course, Beast wagged his tail and barked.
Jerry’s frown softened, but only a bit. He stared at my little corgi for another moment or two, then took his foot out of the doorway.
“Eight-hundred dollars, miss Decker. Cash. Tuesday morning.” He raised an eyebrow. “We on the same page with all that?”