on his large forehead from his short-lived exertion. I had a fleeting sense of him kicking back in a dark apartment somewhere, playing online video games in loose-fitting athletic pants and a sloppy sweatshirt, and I wondered how close it came. This was not a man you’d find working out at the health center. Most definitely not some type of sports junkie. I didn’t even think he was a couch-bound quarterback.
He ran his hand back through his hair and let his breath come out at once.
“What was that all about?” I asked him.
Locke shook his head. “Teenage hijinks, I expect.”
“That’s kind of bold, don’t you think?” I pressed. “Breaking into an empty apartment like that. What could she possibly have wanted? I didn’t see any sign of forced entry when we came in—you should probably check for an unlocked window somewhere.”
But no matter what I said or asked, Locke was ready to move on to other things. “I’m sure it’s nothing. An annoyance, but unoccupied apartments are always at risk. It will solve itself. Let’s go take a look at the other rooms, huh?”
It was his apartment complex. Or more accurately, his to manage. But as I made a walk-through of the bathroom (utilitarian, but clean and fresh), past a small bedroom-office combo, I couldn’t help wondering why he didn’t seem overly concerned about it as a security risk. I mean, sure, if it was just hijinks, I suppose the threat to a future resident was probably minimal. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. I had seen with my own eyes that it was just a girl, a teenager, with enough mascara and eyeliner surrounding her luminous green up-tilted eyes to rival Marcus’s semi-goth cousin, Tara Murphy, and blond braids poking out from beneath her hat that made her look younger than she probably was.
Finally, we moved into the main bedroom, and I was pleased to find a bit of luxury. Plush carpets and a walk-in ( be still my heart! ) closet. There was one surprising feature that claimed center stage: a huge, heavy mirror, presumably in the place where the bed would be situated. I didn’t like it. It was too large, and besides, something about a mirror over the bed made me cringe. I also discovered what I could only assume was the cause of Locke’s earlier outcry when he was searching the apartment: a spiderweb of cracks radiating from a center point in the glass.
“Oh, what a shame,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. “The mirror is broken. Perhaps it could just be removed.” As in, hope hope, hint hint.
Locke shook his head adamantly. “No. It’s a built-in. Dammit, it’s the second time I’ve had to have it replaced, too. The owner is going to have a cow. But don’t worry. I’ll put it on the list of items to be repaired. It will be taken care of.”
Hmm. Just my luck.
“So, Miss O’Neill,” he said, making his voice light and conversational as we exited the apartment at last and he turned the key carefully in the dead-bolt lock, “now that you’ve seen the place, what do you think?”
Locke, evidently, was a man to cut straight to the chase. Then again, it was late in the afternoon. Maybe he just wanted to get his hands on his new computer.
“I don’t think you’ll find another housing complex like this,” he continued in his sales pitch. “Predominantly female, which in my mind would be reassuring to the single young woman like yourself, no children under the age of eighteen, stable tenants. Good people. The rear of all the apartments face the manager’s office; you can’t beat security like that. You would have a neighbor just overhead. The building next door is fully occupied but for one. Buildings three and four are unoccupied, and currently under renovation. The last building, five, was the first to be renovated, and is fully tenanted. What would it take to put you in this particular apartment?”
I didn’t know if I was quite ready to make a commitment. I mean, there was the issue that the
He ran his hand back through his hair and let his breath come out at once.
“What was that all about?” I asked him.
Locke shook his head. “Teenage hijinks, I expect.”
“That’s kind of bold, don’t you think?” I pressed. “Breaking into an empty apartment like that. What could she possibly have wanted? I didn’t see any sign of forced entry when we came in—you should probably check for an unlocked window somewhere.”
But no matter what I said or asked, Locke was ready to move on to other things. “I’m sure it’s nothing. An annoyance, but unoccupied apartments are always at risk. It will solve itself. Let’s go take a look at the other rooms, huh?”
It was his apartment complex. Or more accurately, his to manage. But as I made a walk-through of the bathroom (utilitarian, but clean and fresh), past a small bedroom-office combo, I couldn’t help wondering why he didn’t seem overly concerned about it as a security risk. I mean, sure, if it was just hijinks, I suppose the threat to a future resident was probably minimal. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. I had seen with my own eyes that it was just a girl, a teenager, with enough mascara and eyeliner surrounding her luminous green up-tilted eyes to rival Marcus’s semi-goth cousin, Tara Murphy, and blond braids poking out from beneath her hat that made her look younger than she probably was.
Finally, we moved into the main bedroom, and I was pleased to find a bit of luxury. Plush carpets and a walk-in ( be still my heart! ) closet. There was one surprising feature that claimed center stage: a huge, heavy mirror, presumably in the place where the bed would be situated. I didn’t like it. It was too large, and besides, something about a mirror over the bed made me cringe. I also discovered what I could only assume was the cause of Locke’s earlier outcry when he was searching the apartment: a spiderweb of cracks radiating from a center point in the glass.
“Oh, what a shame,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. “The mirror is broken. Perhaps it could just be removed.” As in, hope hope, hint hint.
Locke shook his head adamantly. “No. It’s a built-in. Dammit, it’s the second time I’ve had to have it replaced, too. The owner is going to have a cow. But don’t worry. I’ll put it on the list of items to be repaired. It will be taken care of.”
Hmm. Just my luck.
“So, Miss O’Neill,” he said, making his voice light and conversational as we exited the apartment at last and he turned the key carefully in the dead-bolt lock, “now that you’ve seen the place, what do you think?”
Locke, evidently, was a man to cut straight to the chase. Then again, it was late in the afternoon. Maybe he just wanted to get his hands on his new computer.
“I don’t think you’ll find another housing complex like this,” he continued in his sales pitch. “Predominantly female, which in my mind would be reassuring to the single young woman like yourself, no children under the age of eighteen, stable tenants. Good people. The rear of all the apartments face the manager’s office; you can’t beat security like that. You would have a neighbor just overhead. The building next door is fully occupied but for one. Buildings three and four are unoccupied, and currently under renovation. The last building, five, was the first to be renovated, and is fully tenanted. What would it take to put you in this particular apartment?”
I didn’t know if I was quite ready to make a commitment. I mean, there was the issue that the
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