Free Room For One by Cooper West

Room For One
     
     
    T OBY was used to housemates. He’d railed against renting out his spare bedrooms at first, but five years after the fact, he could barely imagine living in an empty house. Some people were better roomies than others—a few had lasted a couple of years, while some he kicked out within a month. It was the hazard anyone who rented rooms faced, but on the whole, Toby had lucked out, and he knew it.
    Still, it did not lend him to being generous to musicians.
    “No.”
    “Toby, I swear, he has a steady job!” Steff whined, walking behind Toby in the kitchen like they were in a conga line.
    “No.”
    “Seriously! He’s worked at the cable company for, like, years!”
    “No! No no no! Last time I had a musician tenant, I got stiffed not only for rent, but for the tickets for breaking the noise ordinance!”
    “David isn’t like that.” Steff pouted, and she was cute when she pouted—everyone agreed on that—but Toby was not giving up the fight.
    “What, are you fucking him? What?”
    Steff smacked his shoulder. “No! I’m still steady with James. This is a friend of his.”
    “His musician friend,” Toby snarled, stirring his soup. It was still lukewarm, so he shoved it back into the microwave.
    “I sometimes wonder if your ex was a musician,” Steff grumbled and leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the floor.
    Toby carefully did not answer. His tenants as well as his friends knew he was essentially divorced from his ex, Alan, and that Toby had bought him out of his half of the house, but he could not really afford it at the time so took in boarders to cover the mortgage note. They all knew that, but only his closest inner circle knew what a brutal bastard Alan was. Alan had left town pretty quickly after the breakup and was unlamented by everyone who knew him. There were people in town who remembered Toby and Alan as a couple, but they were usually smart enough not to bring it up. Toby’s own support network of friends who knew the whole truth consisted of his sister Mary, who lived across town, and a few other people scattered across the country. He preferred it that way.
    “Could you at least consider it? If you don’t have anyone else lined up?” Steff finally sighed in defeat.
    “The ad just went on craigslist yesterday. If I don’t have anyone in a week, I’ll talk to your musician.”
    “He’s not my musician…” Steff grumbled as she shuffled out of the kitchen.
     
    T OBY cursed the economy that let people rent three bedroom houses for little more than he was charging for a room. The only difference was that he included all utilities in the price, and did not require tenants to sign a lease. He liked the freedom to kick people out once they proved problematic, and his tenants liked being able to leave without any penalties once their situation improved.
    He was lucky that his photography career had taken off. Giving up ever making a name for himself in the fine art world, he turned at first to catalog work, then made a name in erotic/fetish photography. It was to the point where watching two outrageously gorgeous people tie each other up and fuck like bunnies was nothing more than a working day to him, but the money was really, really good; because while everyone had a webcam, few people had the right lighting. In the course of five years he paid off the debts Alan left him with and had more than enough coming in to cover the mortgage and bills. At this point, tenants were almost a luxury item, and he usually ended up renting to people he wanted to help out just because he could.
    Alan spent years isolating Toby from everyone and everything he loved other than photography, so now Toby wallowed in having an extended network of tenants and former tenants, some of whom were almost like family to him. People in the house meant he was not alone anymore; people in the house meant he was safe.
    There were rare bumps in finding tenants, though, and this was one of them: