The Tenant (4 page)

Mason walked her home. She tried to get him to go upstairs with her, but he left her at the door with a lingering kiss and a promise to call later. He had errands to run for his mother before work, he said, and needed to turn in early.

His mother lived several states away. Amanda didn’t question his excuse, but she knew the truth. Mason wouldn’t allow himself time alone with her until after they were a proper, married couple. The previous night had scared him.
She
had scared him. She’d have to be Miss Hormone-less-Sunshine around him for a while, if he were to relax enough for them to take the next step.

She was pissed off. Her woman-to-vibrator session the night before hadn’t panned out because she’d been too mad to loosen up, so she was also still horny. And the reason was that blond pest with the frosted hair and brilliant blue eyes. She clearly wasn’t horny for him, but because of him. If he hadn’t shown up when he had, if he hadn’t been there at all, she wouldn’t be in that state.

She kept that in mind while scrolling down her phonebook. When she found his entry, she took a deep breath and pressed
Dial
.

She’d deal with her horniness right after she’d given
Naked Asshole
a piece of her mind.

Derek stretched, scratched his chest, and flipped onto his stomach without bothering to even glance at his watch. He didn’t care what time it was. He had absolutely nothing to do, and there was no way he was getting out of bed before his stomach started rumbling. Even then, he’d just have to roll to the edge of the bed to order something in; his cooking days were over.

Of course, opening the door for the pizza delivery would require a bit of effort on his part, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. For the time being, he was staying put. He covered his head with the extra pillow to shield his ears from the annoying sounds of the outside world that didn’t respect his need for more sleep.

There. Perfect. Nothing would bother him now.

Except for his cell phone.

Closer
started blasting full force, and Derek’s hangover made him feel like Nine Inch Nails were actually playing inside his head, kicking its walls from inside for good measure. He slid closer to his bedside table, grabbed the phone, and fumbled blindly for the off button. Mission accomplished, quiet was finally restored…for a couple of seconds.

Derek mumbled a curse under his breath when the first notes of his ringtone played again, this time right by his ear. Whoever was calling wouldn’t give up. He pressed the little green button with all the fury he usually reserved for fantasies that involved kicking Catherine on her ass after she came groveling for him to take her back.

“What?” he yelled into the receiver.

“I see you’re even politer over the phone than you are in person.” The female voice was irritated and condescending.

The tone more than the voice sounded familiar, yet Derek couldn’t identify the caller. “Who’s this?” His body had an instinctive reaction to the woman on the other end of the line, and it wasn’t a positive one. His fingers tensed on the receiver, his eyes squeezed shut, and the headache the song birthed now threatened to make his skull explode.

“Amanda Murphy. Your landlady.”

Amanda? “Oh.
Mandi
.” No wonder he felt like punching something. “Morning, Sunshine. What’s got your panties in a bunch this fine day?” And why on earth did he have to pay for it?

“You. You’re the reason I’m not enjoying this fine
afternoon
, and I want you to fix that!”

Derek smirked against his pillow at the impatience lacing her words. Infuriating as she was, baiting her would be delightful. “I’m honored to be the one bunching your tidy-whities, but don’t you have a fiancé who’s supposed to take care of that?”

There was silence over the receiver for a couple of heartbeats, before she obviously caught on to what he’d said. “You…you…you insufferable ass—”

“Not that I don’t enjoy a little dirty talk in the morning, but again, is there a reason for this phone call other than to get me hot and bothered?” He was neither hot nor bothered, to be honest. Miss Hissy-Fit didn’t do it for him; he liked his women darker, inside and out. He was, however, more amused than he’d been in a while.

He heard her take a long breath and let it out slowly. When she spoke again, she sounded a lot calmer—he might have believed she was completely composed, if he hadn't heard her impatiently tapping her fingers.

“Derek,” she said, “I’m sure you’re a rational person deep down. You do a great job of hiding it, but
I’m sure
you’re nicer than this. I mean, my mother and father seem to think you’re a kind, decent man, and I admit the way we met was awkward. I’ve been under a lot of pressure with the wedding, and I’m willing to apologize for being rude. If you could move out by Monday—”

He laughed. She was willing to apologize for being rude, if he was willing to go out of his way to accommodate her. That sounded so very much like Catherine’s willingness to unburden him of his restaurant. What was it with women wanting to take advantage of him? “That’s very magnanimous of you, Blondie, but I already told you I want things done the proper way. You send me the notice, and I’ll be out of your hair in sixty days.”

She sniffed indignantly. “Why are you trying to be difficult about this? There has to be another place you could crash until you find something more permanent. Don’t you have any friends?”

Bargaining really wasn’t her strong suit. “Don’t you? You seem like such an easy-going person. I bet people are swarming to offer you accommodation.” Derek couldn’t even convince himself of the sincerity of his words, so he pressed on before she could protest his mocking tone. “Can’t you shack up with that great big man of yours?” Jokes and baiting her aside, he was in no condition to lose the apartment too. Not after everything else. Not yet.

Something told him her sigh wasn’t entirely because he was being exasperating. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Mason is old-fashioned,” she said. “He won’t agree to our living together before we’re married.”

And it was obvious
Mason
held his outdated ideas above helping out his girl. The jerk could have offered to sleep on the floor for a few days. A lot of days even, if he truly loved her. Derek was no relationship expert, so he didn’t vocalize his thoughts. “And why don’t you get married? Or is he putting it off?” He accompanied the latter with a snort.

“We’re getting married in eight weeks, and I need to move there ASAP, to get things ready.” She paused. “Don’t you see why I need you to move out?” If he didn’t know better, he’d say she sounded pleading.

He saw. She needed to make sure everything was perfect for when she and the big lug finally shared a home. Because that was what doting fiancées did; they cared enough to help make a house a home. They didn’t stay up till all hours of the morning, doing God knows what, only returning home to sleep. No, not only doting fiancées. Decent women who loved the guy they were with did that. Catherine
wasn’t
a decent woman, she
didn’t
love him, and she’d damned him to a life of loneliness and misery.

And misery loved company—which was a funny saying, considering he’d more or less been avoiding all sorts of company since Catherine had left.

“Well, I understand the problem now, and I’d love to help you—anything for true love—but your
A. S. A. P.,
” he pronounced each letter separately, “will have to wait a bit. Or maybe your man will have to shove those values of his up his ass, because I need to sort things out before I can end my stay here. I see it taking at least a month. Perhaps even two.” He was being mean and petty, and if he were sitting up instead of lying down, he’d be crossing his arms petulantly.

“Okay, you know what? You may have my mom and dad fooled, but I can see right through you,” Mandi hissed. And there went her polite façade! “I tried being nice, but you’re obviously enjoying making things difficult for me. My kitchen appliances are being delivered in two days, and I’ll be there, in
my
apartment, to sign for them.”

She stopped talking long enough to give him time to speak up, but he remained silent, which seemed to give her a second wind. “What’s more, on Friday—that’s six days from now, by the way—I am moving in. You need to clear the place before that.”

She sounded in control of her emotions again, and that simply wouldn’t do. Derek needed some fun, and in-control-Mandi wasn’t half as fun as crazed-Mandi was.

He smirked. “I don’t appreciate your tone, or the accusation that I’ve somehow lied to Carol and Kenneth. You’ve insulted me, and just for that, I’m not going to move an inch from the apartment until the notice expires. You’ve filed for a notice already, haven't you?” He buried his face in his pillow again, this time to stifle a laugh.

“
When?
When could I have filed a notice? Last night or this morning? It’s
Saturday,
you idiot!”

“Well, that’s tough. What's tougher, I’m sorry to tell you, is that you
won’t
be here for your appliances
or
moving in on Friday, unless you want me to call the cops. Have a nice day, and don’t call me again. I’ll only be talking to your parents now on. Feel free to pass any messages to me through them.”

“But what about my kitchen appliances? Where will the deliverymen put them?”

He had a reply for that, but he refrained from voicing it, lest he be considered more vulgar than he’d already been. “I’m sure you have a storage room somewhere. Or they can leave them on my balcony.”

“It’s
my
balcony, Derek.” She spat out his name like it was an insult. “
My
apartment.
My
name on the papers. And if you don’t leave, I’m coming in and changing the locks.”

“Good luck with that.” He hung up the phone with a grin. Readjusting his position in bed, he clicked on his cell phone’s phonebook and scrolled down to M.

He was not losing this game.

“Derek, hello!” The warmth in Kenneth’s voice made Derek feel a pang of guilt—one he found remarkably easy to suppress.

“I’m sorry to disturb you for a second time, but I wanted to apologize for getting into another yelling match with your daughter.”

“What happened this time?” Kenneth sounded worried.

“Nothing much. She got on my case over the phone, and I lost my patience. I’m sorry. I think the wedding jitters have gotten to her. She went as low as to tell me she’d change the locks if I didn’t move out by Friday.”

He tried to sound ashamed. “I know that’s not an excuse, but after everything that’s happened lately…I threatened her. Said I won’t be moving out unless she gave me official notice. And then not till the notice expires.” It really was a bad thing he was doing, lying to someone he sincerely liked and respected, but for some reason he needed to come out on top for once.

Kenneth cleared his throat. “And is that what you’re planning to do?”

Derek must have taken too long to answer, because Kenneth went on. “’Cause if it is, don’t feel too bad about it.”

“What do you mean?” That was the wrong thing to say; he knew it. He should have assured the other man he wouldn’t take advantage of him and his daughter, and that he’d clear their space long before that.

“I mean, maybe it’ll do Amanda some good to be forced to postpone her wedding. Give her more time to put some things into perspective,” Kenneth answered sotto voce. “She might reassess her choices.”

Okay, so old Kenny didn’t approve of the fiancé. Who cared? It worked out well for Derek. “And how does Carol feel about that?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to piss her off.”

Murphy chuckled. “I appreciate that. A pissed off Carol is no fun to be around. As for your question, Carol is too much of a lady to ever admit this aloud, but she and I share the same opinion of Mason.”

And the plot thickened. Derek had the Murphys’ blessings for messing with their daughter’s life. Though he was sure they didn’t see it as
messing
, or they wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Kenneth. Meantime, feel free to come and sign for the kitchen stuff on Monday. I’ll make some room for the boxes in the living room.”

“Won’t they be in your way?”

Derek scoffed. “Not like I ever have people over these days.”

Once the pertinent pleasantries were exchanged, Derek promised to have beer when Kenneth visited then got off the line. This was going to be good.

Monday, April 28th 2014

It was well after one, and her dad wasn’t home yet. The appliances were supposed to have been delivered at nine in the morning. What had the pest done to him?

Amanda heard heavy footsteps climbing the stairs to her parents’ house. Finally! She rushed to get the front door. Her dad stood at the opening, key in hand.

“So?” she asked.

“Amanda.” He nodded in greeting. “Didn’t know you’d be here. Are you staying for lunch?”

“No, thanks. Not really hungry.” Her stomach was a knot. “Tell me what happened, please. Has he packed yet? Where did the kitchen stuff go?” Her body still blocking the entrance, she searched her father’s face for answers. He looked a little flushed, his graying hair messier than usual, his eyes—a lighter shade of green than hers—a little unfocused.

He cleared his throat. “May I please come into
my own house
and kick my shoes off before the interrogation commences?”

Amanda stepped aside for him to enter but began raining questions on him once more, as soon as he sat in his favorite armchair. “Has he packed? Is he leaving?”

“I don’t know.”

Amanda’s nostrils flared in irritation, but she kept her tone level. “Were there any boxes in the living room?”

He toed one of his loafers off and gave her a single-shouldered shrug. “Only the ones with the kitchen appliances.”

“You mean he hasn’t packed?”

“I don’t know.” He said the words slowly, deliberately.