Jackson’s phone dings in his pocket, pulling him back to the present. He checks the message from Wendy—his father’s assistant, who over the years had become something of a friend—and finds that the first set of room applicants would be dropping by in a few hours. He lets out a tired sigh, his shoulders slouching as his head falls to the side, and returns to his coffee.
“Well then, Mrs. Lee,” he mutters, rolling his eyes as he grumbles the honorific into his brew, “let’s see this grand scheme of yours play out.”
* * *
Across town, in a cozy two-bedroom apartment nestled above theShape of Brewcafé, Hakeem Al-Najim pulls on a brown winter coat and packs his messenger bag for a trip to view the mysterious apartment that’s been on his mind since yesterday.
“Hakeem, mon chéri! Oh, my sweet boy! Oh, how I will miss you so dearly when you leave me here. Alone. Desolate. Abandoned.”
A forlorn voice catches Hakeem’s ear as he heads toward the door.
“Charlie, I love you, but spare me,” Hakeem says with a fond sigh. “Something tells me this apartment might be what I’ve been looking for.”
He turns to the person sulking dramatically on the couch behind him, clad in tiny shorts and a tank top. A cascade of blue-and-blonde hair curtains their face, one limp hand draped across their forehead as they swoon deeper into melodrama.
Hakeem arches a brow. “I’ve worked and lived with you for six and a half years. And just to remind a certain someone, I’m scheduled to work every day after classes start back up on Monday. We’ll see plenty of each other. I just need to spread my wings—somethingyou’vebeen telling me I should’ve been doing for years.”
He pats Charlie on the shoulder (only slightly condescending) before heading back to the door.
Charlie pulls themselves upright and glares at Hakeem. “Howvery dare youuse my own sound advice against me! Okay, fiiiine. So maybe I’m the tiniest bit worried. The world is big and scary, and you are a sweet, hopelessromantic ripe for the crushing. I can’t help but fear for my best worker—who also happens to be the best roommate I’ve had in my twenty-nine years.”
“Twenty-nine, Charlie?” Hakeem scoffs. “In what, dog years?”
Charlie clutches their chest in an exaggerated gasp, then hurls a small pillow at his head. “Do not use Bea Arthur against me! I’ve changed my mind. I want you gone. Go—take your sweet smile and culinary blessings and throw yourself to the wolves. Leave me here to age and wallow like forgotten starlets of the golden age.”
Hakeem rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you at work, Charlie. Want me to bring you a croissant from that nice bakery on Alexandria Street when I get back?Speiffel Tower? Itisjust a viewing, after all.”
It was a horrible name—some unholy combination of spice and Eiffel—but it did stick with you.
Charlie perks up instantly. “All is forgiven! Text me when you get there, okay? I’m still not convinced this ad is legit, no matter whose magic says otherwise.”
“I will, Charlie. Yallah, I gotta go. Bye.”
Hakeem shakes his head, a small grin tugging at his lips as he heads out the door.
* * *
A few streets down from theShape of Brewcafé on Sunrise Boulevard, rows of brownstone apartments line Selene Avenue. Inside one of them, Oswald Rivers and his mate, Bernard Woods, help their longtime friend and roommate Eddie Seung-LaLune pack up his room.
“Thanks again, guys,” Eddie says. “I want anything I don’t use day to day packed and set aside. I’ve got a couple viewings today, so I really appreciate the help.”
As more boxes are packed and taped shut, Oswald; a shorter man with an athletic build, tanned skin, and hairy arms, wearing black gym shorts and a white muscle shirt, passes another box to his partner. Bernard, alarge man in black sweats, his dark brown arms threatening to burst from short blue sleeves, takes it and adds it to the growing pile before turning to Eddie.
“Oh yeah, bud, no worries,” Bernard says. “We kinda forced you out without realizing it, so this is the least we could do, yeah?”
Oswald crosses the room and plants a quick kiss on his love’s cheek. “Bernie, we didn’t force Eddie out. We’ve been together for years. It’s good to have variety in one’s social life. Sure, it just so happens to be a year after we declared our undying love for each other. A year of making up for time lost to anxiety, depression, and inner saboteurs—not to mention my transition. But it’s not like we’re rubbing our happiness in Eddie’s face and making him feel sad and lone…”
He freezes. “Shit. Eddie, did we force you out?!”
Oswald and Bernard exchange a panicked look, the tension broken by Eddie’s chuckle.
“No,” Eddie says, laughing. “For the tenth time, you guys—your lovey-dovey public displays of affection didn’t force me out. I’m happy for you both. Relieved, honestly, like the rest of our friends, that you got the help you needed to accept each other’s love. I just need a change.”
He steps forward and pulls them both into a hug. “Don’t worry. We’re friends for life. You’ve always had my back, and I’ll always have yours.”
As they finish packing, Oswald turns to Eddie. “Is that place on Alexandria Street today or what?”
“The apartment in Alexandria Heights? No, that’s tomorrow, according to the email,” Eddie replies. “I’m keeping my options open, so I’ve got a couple viewings today. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
