Free Saved by the Celebutante by Kirsty McManus Page A

message asking him to contact me if the room is still available.
    Helen said I could come over right away, so I quickly go and change. I want to look like I’m not trying too hard, but still show I’m a young and vibrant contributor to society.
    I head out the door via Penny and do a little twirl. “What do you think?”
    “I’d call that look hot hipster . Is that what you’re going for?”
    “Maybe the hot part. The hipster bit, not so much.” Nobody wants to be called a hipster. Or do they? For all I know, it’s a desirable thing these days.
    “Well, whatever it is, you look great.”
    I’ve chosen a pair of denim shorts with a vintage t-shirt, fitted combat jacket and suede fringed ankle boots. I saw a similar look in a magazine recently and it goes really well with aviator glasses and some chunky gold jewelry.
    I walk the few blocks to Helen’s building, impressed by my surroundings before I even get inside. Everything is so fancy. Even the trees on the sidewalk are perfect.
    I press a button on the intercom.
    “Come up,” she calls.
    I ride up in the quiet, carpeted elevator and knock on her door. Each floor appears to only have one apartment. Nice.
    A tiny girl with a lithe figure greets me. Her dark hair is cropped into a short bob and she’s wearing an expensive-looking yoga outfit.
    “Oh, hey, I was just finishing my session. Come in.”
    I wonder what kind of session she’s referring to.
    She glides into the large cavernous space like a ballerina.
    “So it’s very open plan,” she says, indicating the lack of walls. There are a couple of Chinese silk screens dividing up parts of the floor, presumably with bedrooms behind them.
    “I’m ideally looking for someone who is very quiet and isn’t really here much. And of course they have to be vegetarian. I can’t handle the smell of flesh cooking in my kitchen.”
    “Oh. Your ad didn’t mention that.”
    “Didn’t it? Sorry. I thought it did. You’re a carnivore then, I take it?”
    “Um, I guess. I don’t eat a lot of red meat, but I do eat chicken and fish.’
    “Ugh. No, I cannot have you cooking fish in here. The place would stink. I’m afraid that’s a non-negotiable.”
    “All right, well can I at least have a look around before I consider changing my diet?” I joke.
    She fixes me with a stare before finally shrugging. “Fine. The bathroom is over there.” She points to the only solid internal wall in the apartment. “And there’s the kitchen, dining and living.”
    “What’s on the other side of that curtain?”
    “My studio. It’s off limits to everyone but me.”
    I take a quick peek. “It’s quite a large space.”
    “What’s your point?”
    “Nothing.” Unless you want me to pay half the rent.
    I quietly venture around the different parts of the apartment and decide it actually isn’t too bad. Helen has put some lovely black and white artwork on the walls and appears to own a lot of designer kitchenware. Only I’m not sure I could live with someone so serious.
    “Are you negotiable on the rent?”
    “No,” she says defensively. “It’s more than fair.”
    Which makes me wonder whether she’s trying to get me to pay more than half for less than an equal share of the space.
    “How much do you pay each month?” I ask.
    A guilty look flashes across her face. I can see her mentally trying to double what she advertised in her listing.
    “Forget it,” I say, fed up. “I’m not interested anymore.”
    She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
    I let myself out and hope this isn’t indicative of the type of people I’ll be meeting.
    As I walk to Susan’s, my phone beeps with a text from Brad.
    Come by in half an hour if you want to check out the place.
    Great. Might as well get them all out of the way this afternoon.
    Susan answers the door to her apartment, and it’s as I suspected. She claimed to be mid-thirties in her ad, but she’s definitely late forties. Either that, or she’s smoked a pack a day