Chapter 5
The choice is yours
Kazimir
When my GPS announces my arrival at Harley’s apartment, I frown at the damn thing.
No way?
The first time I met her in the Hamptons, I didn’t ask her where she lived, but a woman who was so attached to her designer shoes she was reluctant to leave them behind on the beach as we took a stroll wouldn’t live here. It doesn’t compute.
I circle around the block to find a parking spot. It takes me two revolutions before I find one. I park my Mercedes Benz tank and pray it’ll still be here when I come out, and if it is, I hope the windows won’t be smashed or my tires slashed.
Jamaica, Queens isn’t Fordham Heights, but this isn’t a safe neighborhood.
Without knowing the facts, I’m certain the rug has been pulled from underneath Harley’s feet in the year since I last saw her. Going into business isn’t for the faint at heart, but the dilapidated building staring at me screams last recourse.
Harley has fallen on hard times.
I cross the street and head toward the six-story apartment building annexed to two rickety houses. One of them has a roof covered in a sheet of plastic, and both look in rough shape. Everything about this neighborhood is in rough shape.
I climb up the stairs, open the door, and enter the small lobby.
As I study the board to find Harley’s name, the door leading inside opens.
A black woman steps out, holding the hands of two little kids––a boy wearing the sports jersey to the local basketball team and a girl wearing a purple and white dress.
“Allow me.” I hold the door open for them.
The woman takes me in with an appreciative onceover. “Thank you.” She passes under my arm and drags her kids to the front door.
I step inside and survey my surroundings.
I shake my head.
How can landlords allow tenants to live in a dump like this?
I spot a sign indicating the access to apartment 1F.
I take the stairs to the basement.
I open the door, and a foul smell hits me in the face.
“Holy shit.”
I resist the urge to cover my nose with the lapel of my jacket.
I scan the numbers on the door until I find 1F.
I knock and wait.
A shadow passes in front of the peephole and the door flies open.
I’m greeted by a teary-eyed Harley.
My gaze flies over her head, searching behind her.
I frown at her. “What is it? Who did this to you? Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you? Who do I have to kill?”
“It’s… it’s…” Her lower lip trembles.
I place my hands on her shoulders. “Whatever it is, tell me. I’ll deal with it.”
“He… He… violated me.”
My eyebrows hit my forehead.
I don’t know who the motherfucker is, but he’s dead. “Who violated you?” Did étienne and his accomplice get to her?
“The… The…”
“The guy from the restaurant who groped you?” If so, I’ll chop off his balls and feed them to him.
She shakes her head
My fingers find her chin and I tilt her head up. “I’m going to ask again. Who did this to you?”
She bursts into tears. They run down her face so hard, her features contort.
Fuck.
I scoop her up in my arms. She circles my waist with her legs, wraps her arms around my shoulders, buries her face into the crook of my neck, and cries harder.
I enter her apartment and kick the door closed.
“Shhh.” I rub her back in soothing circles. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
That does little to appease her.
For a few long minutes, I rock her in my arms. As I do so, I survey her apartment.
Her whole existence is contained in this minuscule room.
Jesus, this is the size of a sardine can.
I approach the only window in the space, located above a double-size futon bed. I stretch my neck to catch the view.
A brick wall.
This is like a prison.
My eyes drop to a broken item on the floor near a cabinet.
Harley pulls away from me.
Her green eyes are rimmed with red circles.
She sniffles a few times before wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“You… you must think I’m a hot mess.”
She’s the image of defeat.
“No. But I do think you’re going through a rough patch.”
“That’s the understatement of the century.” The tears are back in full force.
Way to go, Lindstro?m.
“I’m sorry, Harley. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”
“It’s not your fault.” She sniffles again. “All of this is my fault. I keep making bad decisions and trusting shitty people.”
There’s a lot to unpack there, but let’s start with the puzzling piece on the floor.
I turn us both around. “What’s that?”
“That’s one of the offensive items that sent me spiraling.”
“That was Greek to me.”
“You can put me down now,” she says.
I don’t mind holding you in my arms. “Okay.” I drop her to her feet.
She adjusts her dark green sweatshirt. “Long story, but it’s that time of the month, and I needed to go to the bathroom to…”—her eyes lower to the floor—”that’s when my world unraveled.”
I tilt my head to the side. “I’m going to need more to go by.”
She leans into me. “I think I’m being watched and recorded.”
“Excuse me?”
She points to the item on the floor. “It’s more than an air freshener…”
I step on over, pick it up, and analyze it.
A spy cam.
I meet her gaze and nod.
She points to a bookshelf.
A second camera.
She heads toward the bathroom and waves me over.
I follow her, but freeze when I reach the threshold.
The space is so narrow, I have to duck and turn my body sideways to enter.
At my height and size, I’d injure myself living in this apartment.
A makeshift shower is sandwiched between the dollhouse sink and the toilet.
It’s just a showerhead inserted in a beigey-brown tile wall.
I don’t have words for this.
On a positive note, this is a self-clean bathroom. She just needs to turn on the water and rotate the showerhead to spray water everywhere.
Unbelievable.
Whoever designed this must’ve been drunk.
I squeeze into the bathroom and study the spy cam disguised as an air freshener. I step back out. “Grab your keys and let’s go outside.”
She nods.
I follow after her.
She closes the door behind her.
“How long have you lived here, Harley?”
She worries her lower lip and crosses her arms.
“I’m not going to judge you,” I say. “Whatever you’re going through, I want to help.”
Teary green eyes blink up at me. “Three months. It’s all I could afford living on my own.”
Fuck.
“I used to live in another apartment with three roommates, but two of the girls found their booty calls on hookup sites masquerading as dating sites and brought those guys back to the apartment––a different guy every time.”
These women were bringing strangers and potential creeps back to your apartment to fuck? Jesus Christ.
It takes everything in me to keep a stoic face.
“The third girl consumed marijuana from the moment she rolled out of bed. After a while, it became too much. When marijuana head asked us to vote in favor of allowing her boyfriend to move in, and the other girls were too eager to raise their hands in support, I bowed out. I’ve met her boyfriend, and the creepy way the guy eyes you from the side gives off sex offender vibes. ”
You made the right decision to get the hell out of there. “So, you landed here?”
Blush colors her cheeks. “Yes.” Her eyes widen. “Wait— How did you find me?”
“It’s a long story. The short version is the Brazilian owner––”
“I didn’t know the restaurant was owned by a Brazilian. étienne always came off like he was the supreme power.”
“More like the supreme bullshitter.”
She laughs a little.
It’s not the radiant laugh from the Hamptons, but since she’s no longer crying, I’ll take it.
“The Brazilian owner has given me power of attorney. Before coming over to your place, I stopped by the restaurant and I had the pleasure of firing étienne’s ass.”
Her head jerks back. “What?”
“I’ve revoked his supreme power.” I check my watch. “He’s either still being interrogated by the police or he’s sitting pretty in a prison cell.”
Her jaw drops
“Like I said, it’s a long story.”
Her shoulders slump. “I shut you out at the restaurant after you so kindly offered to pay for that woman’s suit… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Emotions were running high that day. And on that note, I don’t have to pay for it.”
“She was pretty adamant about having someone pay.”
“That someone won’t be me.”
“Oh, my God, she’s going to sue me?”
I shake my head. “Tripp Teigen—the asshole who groped you—was caught on camera in the act.”
“A patron recorded him?”
“A woman he burned.”
“She remained silent while my toxic boss crucified me in front of the patrons. Why didn’t she come forward?”
“The police had to show up before she decided to do the right thing. She had vengeful plans for that video clip. It not only captures Tripp groping you, but it also shows him smirking at the other suits at the table. They were all in on it.”
“Entitled assholes.”
“Tripp Teigen is the stepson to Illinois’s Governor, and stepdaddy is always quick to bail him out of the dodgiest of situations. I don’t see how he’s going to get his wife’s brat of a son off the hook this time.”
“With such a high profile, it’s no wonder that woman had nefarious plans for that video clip.”
“That video convinced the suit lady to go after Tripp instead of you-slash-me. She was so incensed by the video, she’s also demanding money to replace her two-thousand-dollar shoes, expensive white shirt, and bra. She’s not holding back.”
“Phew.” She swipes a hand over her forehead. “Saved by a scorned ex-lover.”
I nod. “Going back to what I was saying about having power of attorney over Grazie Mille, it allowed me to go through the employees’ profiles with the owner’s guidance. That’s how I found your address.”
“Oh.”
“I needed to see you again, Harley.”
“Oh.”
We stare at each other for a long beat.
I rub the back of my neck. “There’s a lot that’s happened in the last five days, and I’ll share all the details with you, but for now, let’s focus on you.”
She nods.
“Did you suspect that air freshener was a spy cam? Is that why you smashed it?”
“That’s not what happened. The superintendent sent me a text yesterday, letting me know he was going to check a few things in my apartment before he left on vacation.
I figured it was because of the overpowering smell, so I didn’t make anything of it.
Finding his screwdriver in my cabinet and my stash money gone…
that’s more than a coincidence.” The dramatic details of the story roll off her tongue.
“Thanks to the spy cams, he knew you were hiding your stash money in a tampon box. No wonder you felt violated.”
Worry flits across her face.
“What is it?”
“He’s seen me… naked.”
Of course he fucking has.
I do my best to keep my voice calm. “The guy is lucky he’s on vacation, or else I would’ve tracked him down and strung him up by his balls. Do you have the landlord’s contact details?”
She nods.
“Good. You need to file a report with the police because the pervert invaded your privacy, and that’s illegal.
Then, you need to inform the landlord. The owner might not care about the poor state of the building he’s renting to tenants, but I doubt he wants to be thrown under the bus for his superintendent’s misdeeds. ”
“You’re right.”
“But first, you need to pack your things.”
“Why?”
“You’re moving the hell out of here.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You’re moving in with me.”
She stares at me like I’m an alien. “That’s crazy talk. Kaz, I can’t move in with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because… you’re…” She gestures a hand at me. “Chett’s… stepfather.”
“Ex-stepfather. Chett’s mother and I are divorced.”
“Still, it would be…”
“Weird? Wrong? Ill advised?”
“All of the above.”
“Your privacy and safety have been compromised.”
She wraps her arms around her body.
“Harley, a coward who places spy cams in tenants’ apartments is capable of way worse.”
Nothing.
“Move in with me until you get back on your feet. Having a roof over your head where you feel safe will make it much easier for you to achieve that.”
I want to help her. I feel guilty I played a part into her getting fired, and this dump of an apartment isn’t a home. She needs a soft place to land.
She considers me, her lips twisting this way and that.
“This is non-negotiable,” I say. “Over my dead body am I going to leave you here at the mercy of a pervert. I won’t be able to sleep at night. So, either you move in with me or I’m moving in with you. The choice is yours.”
Her eyes widen so much, they take over her face.