My 3 Rockstar Bosses

By now, my heart was almost pounding its way out of my chest.

“But I don’t have it,” was my hoarse whisper. “What do I do? Half my stuff is already in the apartment, and I can’t just lose the money I’ve already paid.”

Cheryl was silent for a moment, although I could almost hear the wheels in her head clacking.

“Well, do you have some family that can help? Maybe your mom and dad?”

I sighed.

“No,” was my curt reply. “My parents aren’t an option.”

“Well maybe a great-aunt!” suggested Cheryl brightly. “Everyone’s got a fairy godmother somewhere, right?”

I rolled my eyes although she couldn’t see.

“No, I don’t have a great-aunt, a great-uncle, a god-mother, or a fairy anything who can help me. I’m sorry, but I’m just a small girl from Kansas who’s here to pursue her dreams. So is there something else I can do?”

“Get an advance on your credit card,” said Cheryl promptly. “The gods at Citi and Bank of America will answer.”

But that was the thing. I don’t have credit. As a recent high school graduate, I have no credit history to speak of. I’d only just applied for my first Mastercard last week, and it was a secured one where I put down five hundred dollars to open the card.

So I sighed again.

“I’m sorry, Cheryl. I just don’t have the money. Can you lend it to me?” I asked quickly. “I mean, this has kind of taken me by the surprise. In fact, it’s like a punch to the gut knowing that I have to fork over an extra four figures when I only just moved to the city. Could you spot me a little?”

I figured it would be no big deal for my broker because she dressed really fancy. During our week-long tour of New York, Cheryl had been wearing designer heels and carried a leather bag that was probably worth four figures in and of itself. Besides, we’d gotten friendly during our time together, and the real estate agent had assured me that once upon a time, she’d stood in my very own shoes.

“You’ll see,” Cheryl had chortled. “The city is like a big gift box. You open it up, and the most amazing ideas and inspirations come flying out, one after another. There’s no place like New York!” she rhapsodized.

This was exactly what I’d been hoping to hear. I’m an aspiring writer and the city was supposed to be my muse as well as the setting for the new book I wanted to author. So I figured Cheryl would be willing to help a girl with big dreams, since she’d once been that girl herself.

But the moment I asked for money, suddenly the woman grew hard of hearing.

“I’m sorry?” she queried coolly. “That doesn’t sound like the Susie Hemphill I know.”

My mouth grew dry but I forced myself to ask again.

“Please Cheryl,” was my quiet plea. “You know I don’t have a lot to spare. Otherwise, why would I rent a dingy walk-up in Hell’s Kitchen? And you said that you’ve been in my shoes before. Lend a hand to someone who needs it now?”

But the broker just cluck-clucked.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke primly. “But I don’t think we know each other that well. You’ll have to find another resource, Susie, but I’m sure it’ll all work out. And don’t forget to call me the next time you’re looking to move!” she sang before clicking off.

The urge to hurl my phone at the wall was overwhelming, but I forced my hand down to my side. After all, that would be another fifty bucks that I couldn’t spare, plus a trip to the Sprint store when I didn’t have time. So I took a deep breath even as the movers hauled the last of my belongings into the apartment.

“Thank you,” I said, opening my wallet and pressing a twenty into their hands. These guys deserved more than that, seeing that they’d just lifted my stuff up to the fifth floor, but I didn’t have more for the tip. So I shot them a nice smile. “I really appreciate it.”

And thankfully, the Jamaican crew nodded before disappearing silently down the stairs. But now I was left alone in this apartment that maybe wasn’t going to be mine for much longer. The dingy yellow walls weren’t much, not to mention the leak from the kitchen sink. But it was private space, and the only thing I had even remotely been able to afford during our tour. So taking a deep breath, I went down the stairs, making my way to the manager’s office.

“Chester,” I said, knocking on the door that had been painted so many times that it looked firmly stuck in place. “Can I talk to you? It’s Susie from 5B. I just moved in.”

I heard some scuffling inside and then the distinct click of a laptop case shutting.

“Come in!” bellowed Chester. As I opened the door, he shot me a smarmy grin. Sure enough, the guy had his legs up on his desk, a laptop perched on his belly with a ton of used tissues in the garbage can. Oh gross. Had Chester the Molester been masturbating while on the job? All I wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.

But right, business first. I had to negotiate this ‘key money’ thing that he seemed to expect.

“Chester,” I said peremptorily. “I didn’t know there was an additional fee on top of my deposit. I thought the deal was already signed, sealed and delivered.”