Revved To The Maxx

But it wasn’t Kelly’s smiling face that greeted me. Terry was standing there, swaying slightly, the smell of liquor rolling off him. He leered at me openly.

I pushed the door, leaving it ajar a few inches. “What do you want?”

He eyed me through the narrow opening. “Wanted to see if you changed your mind.”

“No.” I tried to push the door closed, but he shoved his foot in, stopping me.

His voice was low and angry. “You think you’re too good for me?”

“I am not trading sexual favors for rent. Get away from my door or I’ll call the cops,” I snapped.

He leaned on the door, and I let it go. Unprepared, he fell into the apartment, and I jumped on his back, bending his arm. “How many times are we going to do this, you asshole? I said no.”

I stood. “Get out.”

He stumbled to his feet, fury in his expression. I dared him to do something. With the door open, there would be witnesses—I could scream with the best of them. He staggered closer, his stale breath making me want to gag. “I can get in your apartment anytime I want, you little whore. Think about that while you’re calling the cops.” He snorted. “My word against yours.” But he turned and stumbled away. “Bitch,” he muttered.

I shut the door and locked it, then stared at the wood. He could get in. He had master keys to every door. There was only the one lock, plus the silly little chain I could slide across and use to peek out the door if I wanted. It gave me zero protection against someone like Terry. And I wasn’t sure the cops would do anything. I’d had enough trouble convincing them about Trish. It was only when another cop overheard me and knew of an additional complaint that they took me seriously enough to file a report.

I shivered, deciding to forgo the shower, and sat down on the sofa. I opened my laptop, googling ideas for added protection for a door. Ten minutes later, I stepped back and admired my handiwork. I had slid the blade of a butter knife under the loose door trim, with the handle resting on the door, adding a small layer of protection. I added two more knives along the frame to be sure. Terry could unlock the door, but the knives would stop him from opening the door unless he broke it down. He would never draw that sort of attention to himself. It was a small thing, but perhaps with them in place, I would sleep a little.

Rattled, I drank the last of the wine, the buzz catching up with me. Pissed off, angry at the world, and needing to stay busy, I clicked on the Solutions for You site, shaking my head in disbelief at how many people had contacted Cycleman about his fabulous job.

Unable to resist, I sent him a message

Charly: Is this a posting for a job or a wife?

Cycleman: What kind of question is that? It’s a job. The duties are listed.

Charly: Sexist. Girl Friday? Duties? How old are you? Get with the times.

Cycleman: Forgive me for the insult. What would you suggest? Person Friday? You interested?I snorted.

Charly: Person Friday would at least be better. But I don’t work for sexists. In this day and age, you need to be respectful. The position would be Assistant. Aide. Office Manager. Dude—get with the times.

Cycleman: Not sexist—never done this before. I will change the wording, if I can figure out how.I laughed again. As I suspected, he was older.

Charly: Good luck with finding someone to do all that for you. I suppose you had best add maid to the listing.

Cycleman: If you are applying, your attitude needs some adjusting.

Charly: I’m not the right type for the job.

Cycleman: Because you’re male? I’d hire a guy. In fact, I would prefer it. Less trouble.I furrowed my brow. Why did he think I was a guy? Another burst of laughter left my lips. Charly was short for Charlynn. My friends called me Char or Charly. I always used a shorter version online. I shrugged since it didn’t matter.

Charly: Guys can be trouble too. I should know. And few can bake pies.

Cycleman: Now who’s sexist?

Charly: Just keeping it real, unlike your posting.

Cycleman: I’m too busy to keep chatting. If you aren’t interested, goodnight.I flipped the monitor the finger and closed the window.

Interested? Not likely. Good luck to whoever went to work for him.

I felt better after giving him a hard time, though.

Not better enough to sleep well. I napped on the sofa, my cell phone and a kitchen knife close at hand. Morning took forever to arrive.I had to go out the next morning since I had a job interview lined up. I dressed carefully, checked to make sure the hallway was empty, and headed out. I was exhausted and still unsure what I was going to do but holding on to hope that if I got a job today, I could sleep on Kelly’s floor for a while and find a new place while I saved up for the first and last month’s rent. I certainly couldn’t stay at my place anymore. Even if I got this job today, I didn’t have the money to pay the back rent, and there was no way I was going near Terry.