CHAPTER 5
I think my booty cheeks have gone numb. I’ve been sitting in this chair for so long processing rent payments that my eyes are weary from staring so hard at the screen. I haven’t even gotten to the maintenance requests – not that I have anyone to take care of them. Until I can hire someone, I’ll have to schedule outside companies. I don’t want to do that. That’s more money, and if you’re not adding to a company’s bank account, they no longer consider you an asset. Then, poof, there goes my job.
I sigh, remove my blue-light-blocking glasses, and massage my eyes. I glance up at the clock. It’s already after eleven. One more hour and I’m on break.
I stand and stretch. A trip to the bathroom reveals that the bucket is still there. I left it just in case it rained over the weekend. I pour out the little water that collected, wipe the bucket out with paper towels, and return it to the closet. Then I step outside and pull in a breath of fresh air. It’s a beautiful spring day. It rained Friday and Saturday morning, but it was clear yesterday and it’s clear today, unlike last Monday when I practically swam into the office.
I stretch again, look up at the sky, and bask in the sun. Just when I turn to go back inside, I see two men – two strange men – ones I don’t recognize and I know everybody out here. One is walking with a tool bag and the other is following him into an apartment.
Did my tenant take it upon himself to hire his own maintenance workers?
My heart drops. I feel like a letdown if this is the case. They count on me to do these things and I failed.
Feeling absolutely horrible about the situation, I lock the office door and walk over to get a closer look. I observe the men enter unit 305-A – Mr. Alton’s apartment. He had put in a request for a clogged kitchen sink last Wednesday, but with no workers, it didn’t get done. I thought about doing it myself with some Drano, but that wouldn’t be very professional. Then again, neither is this.
I strive for tenant satisfaction and this is not a good look for a tenant to take it upon themselves to hire an outsider for something as simple as a clogged drain.
I knock on the opened door and say, “Hello? Mr. Alton?”
Walking through the living room, I can hear the men talking, though I don’t hear Mr. Alton’s voice. When I step into the kitchen, I almost lose my freakin’ mind. This man – this ridiculous man who I told to fill out an application – who wasted my time taking a tour of the model apartment – who talked to me with a smirk on his face as if I didn’t know what I was doing – this is one of the men in the kitchen.
My brain swells with anger. I take a breath to calm myself down a bit because I’m not trying to make a scene or do something to injure myself like have a stroke behind this guy. Yet, and still, something is building at my frontal lobes to the point that I rest my palms on my temple and ask in the softest, mildest voice I can muster, “Have you LOST your freakin’ mind?”
“I don’t understand what you mean?”
“You’re not supposed to be here working. That’s what I mean. You do not work for me or Atlantic Properties. I did not hire you, sir!”
“You gave me an application.”
“Yes, and you didn’t turn it in. What are you doing here?”
He reaches into his pocket and hands me folded papers, then says, “Here. There’s your application. Now, if you would excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
My brows snap together. This guy must got me messed up. I say, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but if you and your lil’ homeboy don’t leave the premises right now, I’m calling the police.”
“Go ahead,” he says. “Call them, but do you really want the cops rolling up here, tarnishing the reputation of your luxury apartment brand? I don’t think so. So, why don’t you take a minute to think, and just give me the job. Look, I already hired someone to work under me.”
“Hola,” the guy next to him says – a short Hispanic man looking like he could be Dora the Explorer’s daddy.
My head…it’s going to explode. I’m almost sure of it. I already feel a bit dizzy. I ain’t never had no mess like this happen here before. Never. When I didn’t hear from Axel all week, I thought for sure he was gone and out of my hair. Now he’s right in my face.
I ask, “How did you gain access to this apartment?”
“Mr. Alton let me in before he left for work this morning.”
I make a mental note to send my residents an email reminding them not to let people posing as maintenance workers into their apartments. Then I acquiesce, much to my great displeasure. I cross my arms tight over my chest and say, “I’m going to stand here until you’re done. We’re heading to my office immediately after.”
“Whatever you say, Boss Lady.”
“And don’t call me that!”
“Okay. Boss Lady.”
I narrow my eyes. This man knows how to get under my skin. I suppose he’s had enough practice pissing people off and getting away with it since he’s so handsome and all. Women probably think this little act of his is cute. I think it sucks. There’s nothing funny about somebody coming up on a property that I’m managing and pretending to be something they’re not.
I probably should call the cops, and just when I get the mind to, the lil’ Hispanic dude pops out from under the sink and says, “Completa. Completa, senor.”
Axel turns on the sink and water flows freely with no blockages.
“See how simple that was?” he asked me.
“Yeah, whatever. Gather your stuff and get out of here.”
“Yes, boss—I mean, ma’am.”
The guy he’s with looks highly confused. I guess he didn’t read him in concerning his jacked-up plan of commandeering his way into a maintenance job. Or maybe the guy doesn’t speak English. I haven’t heard him say one English word yet.
I am beside myself. Who wants a maintenance job so bad that they would go to such lengths? I suppose I should be impressed by his initiative, but I’m not. I’m highly P-O’d.
I follow the suspects to the leasing office and unlock the door. Snatching the door open wide, I allow them to enter ahead of me and after I step inside, I say, “Start talking.”
“Oh. I don’t get coffee this time?” Axel says.
I almost snap, then decide I’m not going to let this dude get to me.
I say, “No, you don’t. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m working. I told you I wanted the job.”
“I heard what you said, and I know you’re a man who probably has never heard the word no , but there are procedures to this, sir. Not only have you broken them, but then you had the audacity to take it upon yourself to hire someone to work with you. I am appalled! Does he even speak a lick of English?”
“Un pequito, mami,” the guy says.
“I’m not your mami —or whatever you just said.”
He throws up both hands like he doesn’t want the smoke. It’s really his partner in crime I should be directing my anger toward, anyway.
I look at Axel to which he says, “Just give me— us —a chance. I gave you the application. Review it, and if you don’t think I’m a good fit, I’ll gladly take my apprentice and be on my way.”
“Does your apprentice have a name?”
“Yes. This is Mauricio Saldana. Mauricio, this is Zimyra St. Claire.”
“Caliente,” Mauricio says, smiling.
Axel grins and responds, “Si. Hot tamale.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” I belt out.
“My apologies, Zimyra.”
“That’s Ms. St. Claire to you. Let’s keep this professional. Now, here’s what we’re going to do. You and Marco—”
“Mauricio,” he interjects.
I continue, “You and Mauricio are going to leave while I perform a background check on both of y’all. Is he legal?”
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
“ You should’ve asked him. You’re the one who brought him over here.”
Short of rolling my eyes, I look at Mauricio and ask him about his citizenship status the best way I can, considering the language barrier and all. I think he’s trying to tell me he’s legal, but I’m not about to take his word for it. I’ma find out for myself.
I hand him an application and say, “Complete this for me, please.”
“Yes, si. I complete.”
Ugh. Just so much ugh.
Okay, Zimyra. Don’t let it defeat you. It could work to your advantage. Or disadvantage...
“Senorita—I complete here?” Mauricio asks, then motions in a way that tells me he needs a pen.
“He needs a pen,” Axel says.
“I know that!” I say, flustered. Then, I look at Mauricia and say, “No, you cannot fill out the application here. I’m on break in twenty minutes. Take it home and fill it out. You can bring it back in the morning.”
Axel turns to Mauricio and says, “Llevea solicitud a casa y complétela.”
My eyes brighten. “You speak Spanish?”
“Fluently.”
“I’ve been struggling for the last ten minutes to understand Mauricio and you speak Spanish?”
“You were too busy biting my head off for me to inform you of that.”
“Okay, whatever. You and your lil’ friend can go now. Bye.”
“We’ll be back before the office closes.”
“Bye,” I say again, shooing them out of my office.
“Make sure you go ahead and review my application and resumé, Ms. St. Claire.”
When they exit, I lock the door. After breathing a sigh of relief, I return to my desk where I unfold the papers Axel gave me. I don’t have time for this today, but I suppose if I had some help around here, I’d have more time to do what I needed to do without getting stressed out. Still, the way he went about it vexes me. Axel has crossed so many lines, and he’s completely unfazed by all of it. I sit at my desk, read over his application, and then pull up a background checker website to run a check on him. It’ll take twenty-four hours for me to know if this dude is a certified psycho, and I’m looking forward to the report with great anticipation. If it comes back with anything questionable, he can go right on back to Bridgeport and bug somebody else because I can’t—I won’t —tolerate anyone wrecking my flow. I’ve built a good, solid foundation for myself in this field and at this company. I intend on keeping my foot on the gas when it comes to self-improvement and who has time for speed bumps? Not me.
At the same time, I know I need a new maintenance team, and Axel knows Spanish. He’s bothersome and he irks my nerves, but he could be an asset if he’s legit. Lord knows the only Spanish I know is hola , and buenos dias . I wonder how he learned enough Spanish to become fluent.
At any rate, I leave his documents on my desk and stand up. After unlocking the bottom drawer on my desk to get my purse, I head out the door to go meet my friend Capri. On Mondays, we always have lunch dates and today, it’s at Bad Daddy’s Burger Bar. After the morning I had, I can’t wait to stuff my face with a fat cheeseburger and have some girl talk.
I walk in and she waves at me so I can see where she’s sitting. She’s in the corner by the window that faces the street. Good. I didn’t want to be sandwiched between tables with nosy people listening to our conversation. A little privacy and friend therapy is just what the doctor ordered for the day I’ve endured thus far.
“Hey, girl,” I say, placing my purse in the booth before I sit next to it.
“Chile, I know a pantsuit hate to see you coming!”
“Hush, Capri. I’m not in the mood for your antics today.”
“You know I’m just playing. You be wearing the heck out of them suits. Anyway, what’s up, girl?”
“Ugh…where do I start?” I ask. “You know what—I don’t want to start. How’s it going with you ?”
I don’t want to talk about me and my morning. I need to put all of that from my mind for now. I’m hoping Capri will flood my ears with all the drama in her world. She has plenty of it. She just broke up with her boyfriend and her parents are going through a divorce in their sixties. Even though she’s a grown woman, she still struggles with seeing them go through all of that. Who wants to see their parents split, and after so many years together?
“Girl, I feel like every day is something new,” she responds.
Oh, I didn’t mention that Capri is also super smart. She’s the only female project manager at her job, and she makes well over $100K a year. My girl has always been doing her thing. If anyone knows how to secure a bag, it’s her.
I ask, “You mean with the job?”
“Well, that’s a given. I’m talking about with my parents.”
“Oh, no.”
“Girl, now they’re fighting over the house. She wants to keep it. He doesn’t want the house, but he doesn’t want her to have it either…talkin’ ‘bout she ain’t bringing no man up in there.”
I shake my head. “Isn’t he the one who filed for divorce?”
“Yep.”
“So, what does he care if she wants to find another man?”
“Because he’s controlling. He’s always been like that and she knew it. Shoot, I knew it. When I was growing up, my mom couldn’t pick out curtains without his approval. He wanted to have his hand in everything, and she tolerated it.”
“Why did he file for divorce?”
“Because he couldn’t control her any longer. She finally realized he was gaslighting the crap out of her, so she shut it down. He couldn’t handle that.”
“Oh, wow! Good for her. What are they going to do with the house?”
“I guess they’re going to sell it, but, girl, I ain’t worried about them.”
The server comes over and we order bacon burgers, then jump right back into conversation.
“What’s new with you?” Capri asks.
“Not much. I’m still holding it down at Atlantic, but I think I’m getting closer to my dream job.”
“Girl, yes! Every time somebody comes to my house, they ask who my decorator was. You’re good.”
“Thanks. I’m almost done with my certification. I just need to pass the final exam.”
“Yeah, like you really need a certification…” She takes a sip of water and then says, “Hey, it’s probably nothing, but quick question. Do you know that guy sitting at the bar?”
“What guy?” I turn around to see who she’s talking about.
It’s Axel.
My blood pressure immediately spikes. I know it because I feel the pressure in my head.
“Myra, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Your whole face just turned red.”
I sip water and say, “I’m good.”
The waitress drops our food off, and then leaves quickly. I’m not even in the mood to eat now. Did Axel follow me here? Am I living in an alternate universe all of a sudden? This is crazy.
“Myra, what’s going on? Do you know him? He keeps looking over here.”
“No—I mean, yes,” I say, then angrily bite my burger.” I know him. He’s the—”
Oh, I really don’t want to talk about this man like
he has some relevance in my life. I know he doesn’t. Capri doesn’t. Talking about him will only give her the impression that he’s somebody when he’s really nobody .
“He’s the what?” she probes.
“He’s the moron who came to my job, insisting I give him a position.”
“As what?”
“The maintenance guy.”
She glances over at him again and says, “He doesn’t look like a maintenance guy.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
She looks at him again and says, “He’s fine, too. Dang!”
I roll my eyes before I’m even aware of it.
With narrowed eyes, and looking like she’s ready to gossip, Capri says, “So, tell me what’s really going on.”
“It’s nothing, Capri.”
“No. It’s something. I can feel the tension.”
“I promise you it’s not. He came in looking for a job, and I gave him an application—” I pause to swallow, then take a sip of my drink.
“What else?”
“What makes you think there’s something else?”
“Because your forehead is still wrinkled. Spill the tea.”
“Okay…” I sigh. I didn’t want to get into all of this, but I also didn’t know this man would show up at the same place I decided to have dinner.
I tell Capri, “He acted like he was interested in an apartment when he really wasn’t. He wanted a maintenance job. But you know me—I’ma do my job if someone comes walking in and shows interest in a unit. So, I took him on a tour and showed him the model unit—the whole nine. I showed him the gym and the clubhouse. I even gave the man some coffee. Come to find out, he just wanted a job application. I cannot tell you how much he pissed me off by wasting my time like that.”
“I mean, do y’all need a maintenance worker, because if you don’t, I will surely hire him to do some maintenance around my house.”
Capri falls back laughing.
“I’m glad you think this is funny.”
“My bad, girl. I was just wondering why he was looking over here like y’all have some unfinished business.”
“Probably because he came by today and dropped off his application. I’m not even going to tell you what else he did. It’s all—he’s— ugh —he’s getting on my nerves. I don’t like my days to be interrupted by nonsense.”
“Yeah. We know. You like the same ordinary routine.”
“What’s wrong with that? Structure is important.”
“But it can also be a roadblock.”
“A roadblock to what?”
Beaming, she raises her brows and says, “Love.”
“You know what—I ain’t going there with you this afternoon.”
She giggles and says, “I’ma go over there and tell him you requested that he join us.”
“Capri, don’t make me choke you out in this restaurant,” I say amused.
She falls over laughing. “Alright, girl. Jeez. I’ll leave you alone, but I doubt if he will with his good-looking self.”
“You think every man is good looking.”
“That’s because they are!”
“No, they’re not.”
“So, you don’t think your handsome maintenance man is good looking?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I know you didn’t, but I’m asking. Do you think he’s good looking?”
“Yes, but the personality doesn’t match the face, so there’s that.”
“Really, now? We know enough about him to know we don’t like his personality. Hmm…”
“No—well, yes. He doesn’t pass the vibe check.”
“Oh,” she says. “I hate it when that happens. Or, perhaps y’all ain’t been vibing enough. I bet if you gave him a shot, y’all would hit it off.”
“No way.”
She smiles.
“Capri, stop the madness.”
“Nope. I am going to go on record today to say that this man—what’s his name, by the way?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Whatever. That man at the bar is going to be yours.”
I eat my food and ignore her because this isn’t why I came to lunch. I wanted to clear my head of this guy and spend time with my girl talking about the usual – her ex, my mom, how my brothers get on my nerves, and our next steps in leveling up our lives. But, no. What’s His Face had to wreck that!
I don’t like this one bit. Since he walked into my office last Monday, I feel an interference in my life – one that nags me like a constant ache. I want my normality back. I don’t care if it is a roadblock or whatever Capri said. It’s my life, and it was fine just the way it was before Axel Jennings showed up.