14 (6 page)

While Nate debated if a comeback of some sort was needed, Mandy opened her apartment. He glanced in and saw homemade drapes and a broad clutter of furniture. “Hey,” he said, “is your apartment bigger than mine?”

She looked over her shoulder, then past him to his door. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen inside yours. The last guy was kind of a creep. Always talking about S-E-X, you know what I mean?”

“If by S-E-X you mean sex, then yes I do.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s a silly habit.”

“No problem.” He nodded at her apartment. “I’d swear, it looks like your apartment is bigger than mine. Maybe you’re getting more light from your kitchen window or something.” He jerked his thumb to the right.

Mandy shook her head. “My kitchen’s over there,” she said, “behind the bathroom.” She pointed left, toward the far corner.

“Your bathroom’s closer to the door than your kitchen?”

“Isn’t yours?”

“No. My kitchen’s right here.” He unlocked his door and pointed into the kitchen.

She leaned cautiously into his apartment and glanced over. “Oh, wow,” she said. “You’ve got a real kitchen with counters and everything.”

“You don’t?”

Her pigtails wiggled in the air again. “Mine’s just a little kitchenette, y’know, like you’d get in a motel or something.” She shrugged and then took a few quick steps back to her door. “Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Nate. Again.”

“You too,” he said. “Thanks for all the tips.”

She stepped into her oversized apartment with a meek smile, and the door closed behind her.

Nate wanted to look up historical landmarks at work, but a fresh crate of returned flyers and another lecture from Eddie crushed his enthusiasm for doing anything. A parking ticket the next morning—he’d forgotten the street sweeping schedule—annihilated it. It wasn’t until the following Friday when Carla from accounting asked what his new place was like that he remembered the trio of plaques. Then he was ashamed to realize he couldn’t remember the name of the building. He peeled a sticky note off the pad on his desk and stuck it in his wallet so he’d have a reminder and something to write on when he got home.

When he got home, though, his mind ended up focused on other things again. He’d learned weekends were the worst for parking, especially at rush hour. It didn’t help that an oversized truck was blocking most of the spots in front of his building. One guy in a green Taurus sat in his car, taking up two spaces between a pair of driveways and ignoring Nate’s attempts to squeeze in on either end. Nate looped around the neighborhood until he spotted a space he could wiggle his Volkswagen into on the next street over.

He walked home and inspected the truck in front of the building. It was one of the basic white ones that could be spotted all over the city. They usually had something to do with the movie industry. Then, as he approached the fence, Nate remembered it was the last Friday in April.

Toni, the woman from Locke Management, was at the top of the stairs. She had on another just-too-short skirt and held her iPad in one hand. The other hand held a phone to her ear. She saw him and her killer smile shined out across the front lawn.

Nate had almost reached the gate, which was held open with a bungee cord, when two brawny men stepped off the truck holding a couch between them. The lift gate squealed as they bounced from it to the ground.

He followed the two men up the steps. They moved like the couch was an empty box. Toni gestured for him to stop by the door and he watched the men head up the curving staircase, angling the couch so they never broke stride.

“I have to go,” she told the phone. “I’ve got another client here.” The cell snapped shut and she beamed at him. “How do you like the place so far?”

“It’s great,” he said. “I love the sun deck.”

“I know,” she said, the smile spreading further, “isn’t it wonderful? I wish my apartment was this nice.”

“Maybe you should get a place here.”

The smile was blinding, and he knew the joke hadn’t been that funny. “Speaking of which,” said Toni, “you have a new neighbor. Someone just rented the apartment next to yours.”

“Someone?”

“Well, I can’t give out personal information,” she said. “You’ll probably meet him upstairs, though.”

The sticky note flashed in his mind. “Actually, I’ve got a question for you,” said Nate. He nodded toward the lobby. “I saw all the plaques under the mailboxes. What’s so special about this place?”

“It’s a historic landmark,” she said. “Part of the reason the owners can keep rent so low is because they’re exempt from certain changes and requirements, plus they get a small subsidy from the government.”

“Right,” he said. “I was wondering
why
it’s a landmark, though.”

Her smile dimmed. “Sorry?”

“What makes this place a landmark? Is there something special about the architecture or did something happen here or something?”

She stared at him for a moment. “It’s very old. Did you see the cornerstone? Built in 1894.” She turned and gestured at the base of the building.

Nate followed the movement to the block of marble. “That’s it? It’s old?”

Toni glanced at her iPad and traced patterns on the screen with her fingers. “To be honest, Mr. Tucker, I’m not sure why. It happened a little before my time, obviously.” Her eyes met his and the smile went back to full power. “Oskar might know. Have you asked him?”

“No,” he admitted. “I haven’t seen him in a couple days.”

“I’ll look into it for you if you like,” she said. “I can check with the office and have something for you next time I’m here.” She checked her phone for the time. “If you’ll pardon me, I need to get going. Another place to show in half an hour.”

Nate gave her a wave as she dashed down the steps to the street, tapping her iPad the whole way. She stepped through the gate and vanished down toward Beverly Boulevard.

He headed up the stairs and passed the movers on the way down. Neither of them looked like they’d just carried a couch up three flights. Four, counting the steps from the street to the front door. They each gave him a quick grunt of acknowledgment and headed back to their truck.

Boxes sat in the hall. Nate headed down with the thought of introducing himself and being a good neighbor. Halfway there something else caught his attention.

Or, to be exact, the lack of something.

The door marked 23 still didn’t have a knob. The socket sat empty on the lock plate.
Maybe they
do
take it off when people are moving in?

Nate pushed his finger into the socket. It went into the raised flange and stopped. It didn’t feel like the hole was too small. It felt like there wasn’t a hole.

He crouched in front of 23 and peered at the socket. It was a dummy. Past the flange was smooth wood. The plate had just been screwed onto the face of the door.

“Hey,” said a voice. “Hope my guys didn’t knock that off.”

It was an older guy, pushing sixty but in good shape. He stood at the door to apartment 26, holding one of the boxes. His white hair was cut bristle-short. Nate thought this was how retired drill sergeants looked before they went on to become sadistic gym teachers.

“No,” he said, “it’s been missing for a couple weeks now.”

The man stepped forward. He was a good three inches taller than Nate and his torso was a sharp V inside his polo shirt. “How d’you get in, then?”

“It’s not my place,” he said. “I don’t think anyone lives there. They’re working on it or something and took the knob away.”

The man eyed the empty socket and his gaze flitted up to examine Nate’s face. Nate had the unmistakable feeling of being sized up. The sadistic gym teacher comparison reared its head again.

“Tim Farr,” the man said. “I just moved in today.” He shifted the box under his arm, stuck out a hand, and gave Nate’s fingers a crushing shake.

“Nate Tucker,” he replied. “I live next door to you. Number twenty-eight.”

Tim nodded. “You a quiet neighbor?”

“I guess.”

The older man smiled and showed a mouthful of small, white teeth. “I’ll let you know if you’re not. Is it a good building?”

Nate shrugged. “I like it,” he said. “I’ve only been here about a month myself, but I think it’s one of the best places I’ve ever lived.”

Tim gave another sharp nod. “A little smaller than I would’ve liked, but it seems okay. A floor plan would’ve been nice.”

“You didn’t see it first?”

He shook his head. “Sight unseen. I was in Virginia before this.”

“What brings you to L.A.?”

“Why does anyone come to California?” Tim smiled. “Trying to find myself.”

Nate smiled, too. “I came for a girl.”

“How’d that work out?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been trying to find myself for six years now.”

Tim chuckled and shifted the box back into both hands. “Hey,” he said, “how’s that sun deck Toni told me about?”

“Pretty cool. Awesome view.”

“Might as well do the whole California thing right, yeah? I was thinking of having a beer up there later and watch the sunset.”

“Oh,” said Nate, “as a heads up, if you see a note on the door to the roof, it means one of our neighbors is sunbathing in the nude. She probably won’t be there late in the day, but just in case.”

“Sad to say, I’ve hit that point where looking at a naked young woman makes me feel less turned on and a little more like a dirty old man.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen her yet,” said Nate.

Tim grinned and pushed the door open with his foot. It opened into a small room, half-filled with boxes. From what Nate could see, it was less than ten feet on a side.

“Hey,” he said. “What the heck’s up with your apartment?”

Tim nodded. “I know, right? Like I said, a floor plan would’ve been nice.”

“You’ve got rooms?”

“
Yeah. Not the best use of space, but I’m pretty sure I can do something with it.” He set the box down on top of another and gave Nate a look. “Yours isn’t like this?”

“No,” said Nate with a shake of his head. “Mine’s a studio. All open, but the kitchen and bathroom are separate.”

“Weird,” said Tim. “That would’ve been nice.”

Footsteps clomped up the stairs. The movers were back. They were carrying a dresser between them.

“Good meeting you, Nate,” said Tim. “Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Nate backed up to his door to give the movers room to get into 26, and once he was in front of his apartment it seemed silly not to go in.

The setting sun was streaming through the kitchen blinds, and he gave them a twist to cut the glare. As he did, something danced across the countertop and up the wall. Another roach appeared in the sink and circled the drain twice before moving up onto his drying rack.

He picked up a glass from the rack and flipped it over onto one of the insects. The other one scurried beneath the microwave and vanished. The prisoner was small, barely half an inch long, with brilliant patterns on its emerald shell. It had been wounded somewhere along the way and was missing a leg on one side.

“So, mister roach,” Nate said. “It is down to you, me, and this glass.” He considered knocking it into the sink and drowning it. He was going to need to get traps before things got too bad.

The roach’s antennae brushed the inside of the glass. It skittered back, darted forward again, and hit the side of the glass with a faint but definite click. Nate watched it for a moment and then furrowed his brow. He waited for it to slow down so he could get a better look at it.

The roach wasn’t missing a leg. It had an extra leg. Four on the right, three on the left. He watched it dance around the glass with the extra limb.

The mutant roach finally admitted it was trapped and stopped to await the inevitable. He watched it sit there for a moment, resigned to its fate. “Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “It sucks being the guy with no options.”

Nate lifted the glass and let it go on its way. It waved its antennae at him, two green threads, and then followed its partner under the microwave.

On the fourth Saturday since bringing his furniture in, Nate told himself he was unpacked. It was his apartment now in all ways. His
home
. He’d used one of the bookshelves and the couch to split the space. His desk was against the wall next to the door. Everything else was in the other section of the room, although everything else amounted to the entertainment center, now standing between the two windows, and the other bookshelf.

Now that he was unpacked, Nate came to the unavoidable conclusion that he had nothing to do. He pulled his second-to-last beer from the fridge door—he needed to go grocery shopping soon—and decided to explore the building a bit. For lack of a better plan, he figured he’d start at the top and drink his beer in the sun. He strolled down the hall and turned into the stairwell.