He hums like he doesn’t believe me. “Good. Because starting next month, rent’s going up a hundred.”
I stop cold, key still halfway in the lock. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing. “Cost of maintenance went up. Taxes. You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t,” I mutter. “Because nothing’s been maintained since I moved in.”
He ignores that, gives me a tight smile, and heads down the hall. “Don’t be late this time, Waddell. I’d hate to have to find someone else for the unit.”
When he’s gone, I finally get the door open and push inside. The apartment greets me with its usual chorus of creaks andhums…the fridge rattling, the ceiling fan whining, the sound of my bank account crying in the distance.
I lean my forehead against the door for a second and whisper to no one, “You’re doing great, Eli. Living the dream.”
Then I push off, kick off my shoes, and try not to think about how close I am to losing the only roof I’ve got.
This crappy place isn’t worth six hundred a month, let alone seven, but it’s still the only home I have.
I need a shower badly, but my head’s throbbing harder by the second. I can’t tell if it’s leftover from the fainting spell earlier or if it’s about to happen again.
I haven’t gone down twice in one day in years, but with the way things are piling up, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve never handled stress well.
Sighing, I flop onto the bed without even bothering to pull the blanket over me. My legs hang off the edge, the mattress springs dig into my back, and it’s nowhere near comfortable.
Still, it only takes a few seconds before I’m out cold.
Asleep… or passed out.
Not sure which.
And honestly, I don’t care.
***
“Mr. Dorsen, I’m here to pay the rent.”
He looks up from behind his desk, lips already curling into that smug half-smile I’ve come to hate. “Glad you decided not to be late this month, Waddell.”
I sigh, hand him the check, and turn to leave…wanting this conversation over before it can start.
“You’re short a hundred,” he calls out.
I stop mid-step and slowly turn back. “You told me last night that it didn’t start until next month.”
“Todayisnext month,” he smirks, leaning back in his chair. “The first of it, anyway. Have it by the end of the day, or you’re out, Waddell.”
“The end of the day?” My pulse spikes so hard I feel it in my throat. “I can’t get that kind of money that fast. I don’t get paid for two weeks.”
“Don’t give a shit,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing. “If I don’t have it by six, pack your bags.”
He slides the check into his desk, already moving on to whatever’s on his phone.
I stare at him for a long moment, fighting the sting behind my eyes.
Just another day, Eli. Just another freaking day trying to keep your life from falling apart.
Back in my apartment, I take a deep breath, trying not to panic while I figure out how to scrape together another hundred dollars before I have to leave for work. I won’t get home until close to ten, even though the garage closes at eight. Because public transportation is slow as heck that late in the day. I’ll miss Dorsen’s deadline no matter what.
For a second, I consider asking for an advance on my paycheck…but the thought dies as quickly as it comes. Asking the new owners for money? Yeah, that’s a surefire way to get fired before I even make it through my first week with them.
