Unfortunately, the water was still freezing.
“Stupid pipes. Stupid old building.”
I had two choices. I could exist in my own filth for another day and hope the hot water would be back on that night, or I could be an adult, put on my big-girl panties, and take a cold shower.
I chose the lazy option.
“Bad decisions abound,” I said as I sprayed dry shampoo on my hair and pulled on the previous day’s clothes, then packed a bag with an outfit change. The Weddings in the City office had a shower. I would use that before our next bridal meeting.
I walked with Baxter down the street to the pretzel cart at the corner while making a list of grievances I was going to bring up at the building meeting with the apartment management that morning.
First on the list was the lack of hot water. Then I would segue into the lack of general maintenance, and the fact that the landlord was trying to sell everyone’s home out from under them.
Maybe if they had kept the apartments up, Sebastian wouldn’t have just left instead of giving me that perfect, thick, hard cock of his that I desperately need in these trying times.
“Amy and Baxter. The usual?” Ahmed, the pretzel guy, asked. “These are hot off the presses.”
“Make mine a double,” I said, “and I need an extra-large side of beer cheese.”
“I aim to please. Here you are, Baxter—extra salt.”
The pony took his treat delicately, and after paying Ahmed, I trudged back to my apartment, juggling the beer cheese, the cup of spicy mustard, and my two piping-hot pretzels.
I poured Baxter some water then went around the corner to the community room for the meeting.
It had seen better days. The original high ceilings with their heavy timber beams had been covered up by a dropped acoustical tile ceiling that was showing signs of water damage. I sat in a rickety folding chair eating my pretzel, while other residents filled in the seats around me, the angry burble a backdrop to my anxiety.
Ten minutes after the meeting had been scheduled to start, the landlord walked in. Everyone booed and hissed when they saw him, but I was too shocked by his guest to do more than start. It was Tatiana. She wore a designer suit that I was sure cost more than my yearly rent and sky-high Louboutins, and she carried a designer Birkin bag on her arm.
“Ah, shuddap!” the landlord yelled at us.
People booed louder, but I sat stock-still. The last thing I needed was Tatiana complaining to Ivy that I had heckled her. But she didn’t seem fazed at all by the angry residents as she calmly set up two easels and placed poster boards on them, the blank white backs facing the room.
“Where’s the hot water?” someone shouted.
“I have small children,” another woman said, standing up. “How am I supposed to give them a bath?”
The landlord gave the woman a shit-eating grin. “We are having some difficulties with the water. We appreciate your patience for the next several weeks as we work to correct these issues.”
There were groans and angry yelling.
“You are all free to move elsewhere!” the landlord said, raising his voice over the crowd.
“Prick!”
“This is not a meeting where you give me a laundry list of complaints,” the landlord said in a mocking tone. “Ms. Tatiana is taking time out of her busy schedule to talk about how awesome this new development will be. Let’s show her some respect.”
“Good morning!” Tatiana said, turning the poster boards around to display crisp digital architectural renderings of the newly renovated building. “I’m happy to show you how amazing the Stoveworks is going to be once we’ve finished gutting and renovating.”
“And kicking everyone out!”
“Now, now,” Tatiana purred. “In addition to a food hall, high-end retail, a Whole Foods, a state-of-the-art gym, and million-dollar luxury condos, this development will also be home to twenty rent-stabilized units for current residents only with an option to buy after five years. Of course, any rent you pay will go toward a down payment.”
And just like that, Tatiana had turned the crowd back around in her favor.
Hell, even I was intrigued, and I had been on the receiving end of her craziness.
“Of course,” she continued, “we won’t be able to know who gets a unit until after the development is completed. But don’t worry. We will stay in contact with each and every one of you at your new apartments. There will be a lottery so that the selection process is fair. However, we are going to have a certain level of high society living in the Stoveworks, and we want residents who are clean, valuable community members who have low drama. You will have to submit an application with an essay about why you deserve a rent-stabilized unit in order to enter the lottery.”
