Quickly typing back a response, I let out a girlish squee that makes me cringe, but I’m too happy to care.
Maybe Lady Luck and I are back on speaking terms.
Chapter Five
In which poor people do not get to walk through the front door.
Ava…
May 31st, Moving Day…
"We're gonna miss yousomuch.”
Carla is draped dramatically against my bedroom doorway as I tape the last box shut.
“Oh, I don't think you're going to be lonely,” I say with a grin. “I understand that Naked Guy is moving in?"
“Don't call himthat,”she says. “His name is Steve."
“Yeah, okay,” I say, hefting the box in my arms. “But he'll always be Naked Guy to me.” I'd paid up to the end of the month and thanked my lucky stars that they added Carla's friend to the lease.
There are three movers who speak in low tones amongst themselves as they heft my mattress and bed frame, taking them down the stairs as if they weigh no more than the pillows I've stuffed into a trash bag. Once I hand my key to Carla and join them on the sidewalk, they've already pulled down the rolling back of the moving truck, shutting my sad little pile of boxes inside. It’s warm today and they’re sweating a bit. The smell of exhaust perfumes the air and drivers are cursing the movingtruck for being too far out into the lane. It was not a great parking job.
One of the guys is staring at me. Not sexually or like he’s interested, more… assessing, a weird vibe that makes me uncomfortable.
“Well,” I say, clapping my hands together awkwardly, “I'll see you guys there at The McManus.”
One of them nods at me and they leave without another word, the truck belching black smoke in their wake. I decide to splurge on an Uber even though I know I'm going to have to figure out which bus routes I’ll need to take to the hospital from the new apartment. But the day issoexciting, I deserve to celebrate a little.
I'm already envisioning having Priya and some other friends over for a housewarming party. Nothing fancy, but it would be nice to return the favor since I've been to parties at everybody else's place several times.
There are multiple images on The McManus sales website of the new building, but standing in front of it is truly awe-inspiring. It's a massive tower of glass soaring up forty stories. Even though I got the impression from Cynthia that it was only half built, it looks perfectly finished. Flowers and artfully trimmed Japanese maples in giant pots grace the entryway, and a uniformed doorman stands just outside the door, his white-gloved hands folded in front of him. I didn't know the doormen wore white gloves anymore.
“Ava! There you are." Cynthia hurries over, giving me a warm smile. “I was so excited when they approved your application. I think you're really going to enjoy the apartment."
“I can't tell you how much I appreciate you letting me know about the opportunity in the first place,” I say, heading towards the front door until she puts her hand on my arm.
"Oh, hang on,” she says, smiling apologetically. “There's another entrance here at The McManus; the tenants with the lower income units go through the back.”
Good lord. I knew a lot of the new fancy buildings that were forced to offer low-income housing did this, hiding us peons by making us go through a separate entrance. It still feels unpleasant to be hustled through the back door like trash.
“Oh, I see,” I say, heading down a paved pathway to the back of the building. It's not as nicely landscaped here and there's no doorman.
Once we're in the elevator and I'm watching the numbers shoot up, I feel better. I don't care what door I have to walk into as long as I have a pretty apartment all to myself. We stop at the tenth floor and Cynthia guides me down the hallway to apartment 1014, unlocking the door.
"Are you ready?" she asks, sweeping her arm out dramatically like a game show hostess. “Have a look.”
I walk in and instantly know she’s brought me to the wrong place.
This apartment ishuge.
It's already furnished; a low-slung gray sectional and an enormous TV hung over the fireplace dominate the living room. The dining table seats twelve, situated by the floor to ceiling windows and flows into a sleek kitchen. It's too pristine.
“This can't be right." I’m confused, looking down the hallway and catching a glimpse of the bedroom.
“Well,” Cynthia says, putting her bag on the kitchen counter. “I might have slotted you in for the model apartment. We've already sold the last of this expansion. And it was just sitting here already furnished and looking so nice, so…”
She opens the stainless steel fridge and pulls out a bottle of champagne, finding two glasses in one of the cabinets.
