Free A Slow Boil by Karen Winters Page B

later and said it was
time to leave.  Already?  Darn it.  I kind of wanted to stay
here all morning.  Scratch that, all day.  All summer.  The rest
of my life.  But I pulled myself up and followed him down to the car,
grabbing my purse on the way.
    “Are you sure you don’t mind if I borrow some books this summer?”
I asked as he settled into the driver’s seat.
    “Of course not.  What good is a book sitting on a
shelf?  It needs to be opened and read to be of any use.”
    “In that case, I promise to put as many of them to use as I can.”
    “Nothing would make me happier.”  He turned and gave me a
smile.  “Now, where exactly are we going?”
    I pulled the directions out of my purse and helped guide him
through traffic until we pulled up in front of a four story complex that
matched the address I was given over the phone.  The street was quiet, and
the building itself looked in good shape, so I was getting my hopes up that
this place might work.  Mr. Hunter got out and opened my door for
me.  I was getting used to his manners and knew to wait for him to extend
his hand to help me out.  He continued to hold my hand after I was on the
sidewalk, giving it a small squeeze as he surveyed the facade of the building.
    “Oh, just come in with me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I can tell
you’re dying to.”
    “Thank you.” He released my hand and gestured for me to lead the
way. We found the manager’s office on the main floor.  I introduced myself
to the man behind the counter and explained that I had an appointment at ten to
look at Apartment G2.
    “Ah yes, G2.  Here we go,” he said, grabbing a key out of a
drawer. “Follow me.” He led us toward an open staircase, one flight going up
and one going down.  “It’s down here, Miss Lane.”  He started
downstairs at a quick pace.  “G for ground.  There are 4 units down
here, one in each corner.  This is G2.”  He stopped in front a solid
metal door and fiddled with the key.  The fluorescent lights overhead
flickered on and off and on again.  Finally the door gave way and he
ushered us both in, seeming to notice my companion for the first time.  “I
thought you said you were taking this place on your own.  There’s an extra
monthly rate for roommates.”
    “Oh no, this is my -”   It was too
weird to admit that my boss had accompanied me.  “- friend.  He drove
me down.”
    “I see.  Okay, well, as you can see it’s small but
clean.  There’s a kitchenette in that corner and the bathroom is through
there.  This is a studio, of course, so at night you pull the couch out
into a bed.  What do you think?”
    I turned slowly around.  The space was about twenty feet by
twenty feet, I’d have guessed. The kitchenette area was tiny but looked
functional.  There were two small windows high on the wall above the
couch, letting in a little natural light but not much.  The bathroom was
clean, but it was the smallest I think I’d ever seen.  I was actually
amazed they’d managed to fit a toilet into it.
    “What’s the rent?” Mr. Hunter asked, his voice neutral.
    “Well, there aren’t many things on the market right now, as you’ve
probably figured out.  Given the low vacancy rate in town and the fact
that Miss Lane mentioned on the phone that she needs to find a place this
weekend, I think a thousand a month is fair.”
    “Are you serious?” Mr. Hunter's jaw was tightly clenched and I
could tell he was attempting to control his temper.  “That's extortion and
there’s no way -”   I placed a hand on his arm to
quiet him.
    “Let me think about it for a night,” I said to the manager. “I'll
give you a call in the morning.”
    “All right,” he shrugged. “But I can't hold it for you without a
deposit, and someone else might come along later today and snap it up.”
    “We'll take our chances.”  Mr. Hunter steered me back out the
door and up the stairs.  “That place was completely unacceptable,