“It’s not that bad, Alexandra,” he counters.
“It’s pretty bad, Robbie. If you don’t deal with it properly, it’ll start to smell. And there’s clearly an issue with the foundation, so unless it’s fixed, this will keep happening.”
Robbie looks amused. “I didn’t know you were a contractor, Alexandra.”
I take a deep breath. “You don’t need to be a contractor to see there’s a problem here.”
“I’ll get someone in to take a look,” Robbie says, as though he’s doing me a favor.
“When?” I press.
“Soon,” he says vaguely.
Soon isn’t good enough. Soon means Robbie’s hoping that if he ignores the situation, it’ll fix itself.
“Robbie, I’m pretty sure that the longer you wait, the more it’ll cost to fix.”
“Chill, Alexandra,” Robbie smirks and lowers his voice a little. “Maybe you should spend another night with your boyfriend, see if he can find a way to help you relax.”
Up until now, Drew’s been lounging against the wall, pretending to stare at his phone. Giving me the space to fight my own battle. And apparently it’s given Robbie the impression he might not notice a suggestive comment, or that he might not care if he did.
But Drew clearly noticed. The change in him is barely perceptible—he’s still lounging against the wall with his phone in his hand—but it feels like the air has been sucked from the room.
And when he looks at Robbie, his eyes are angry enough to melt ice. “Are you offering to let Alexandra end her lease early?” he asks.
“What?” Robbie asks in confusion.
“Because I’m sure you weren’t suggesting she should stay with me and continue to pay you rent.”
“I didn’t mean she should move permanently,” Robbie blusters. “I just . . .” He trails off when he realizes that explaining his meaning won’t help.
“But there’s also the mold situation,” Drew interrupts. “And obviously that will need to be taken care of too.”
“What mold situation?” Robbie asks.
“There’s mold on the bathroom ceiling,” Drew says, even though I’m pretty sure he’s never been in my bathroom. “Which means it’s probably in the walls, too, and it’s a health hazard. Not to mention the mold you’ll have from this leak. You’ll need to hire a mold specialist?—”
“There’s no mold,” Robbie says defensively.
Drew shrugs. “Better safe than sorry, though, right? I went to med school with the Medical Officer of Health, I’ll ask him whohe recommends.” He taps at his phone. “Actually, maybe I’ll just ask him to arrange an inspection.”
Robbie’s eyes widen. “Are you threatening me with a health inspection?”
“Of course I’m not threatening you, Robbie,” Drew scoffs. “This isn’t the mafia.”
Some of the tension leaves Robbie’s shoulders. “Right,” he says with an awkward laugh.
But Drew isn’t done.
“I’m a neurosurgeon, Robbie,” he says. His tone is deceptively pleasant, but his dark eyes are hard. “If I wanted to threaten you, I’d be talking about drilling holes in your head, not a fucking health inspection.”
Robbie blinks, clearly unsure if Drew’s serious or not. “Uh, okay,” he says weakly, turning to me. “Are you looking to move out early, Alexandra? Because if you are, I, uh, I guess I could let you out of your lease.”
I hesitate for a moment. Obviously, I’d be thrilled to move out of this apartment, and to never see Robbie again. I was already planning to move in the fall, once I’d made it through probation at work and saved a little money.
But right now, I don’t have anywhere else to live, and it’ll take at least a few weeks to find a new place.
“Can you give us a minute, Robbie?” Drew asks.
