Free Eric Dinnocenzo - The Tenant Lawyer by Eric Dinnocenzo

office, Jeff, was caught up in a crusade to get a Republican appointed to the Boston City Council. Jeff came from old money and his father had set him up in the business, but he was uninterested in real estate. Instead he seemed intent on stirring up the political waters in the Beacon Hill neighborhood as a frustrated Republican in a liberal enclave. Not infrequently, he wrote letters to the editor of the Beacon Hill Times that were full of vitriol, not to mention a little wacky, though they were well-written from a technical perspective. His right-wing politics annoyed Sara and he often goaded her into debates that only left her frustrated.
    “He’s just so thick,” she said. “He blames the Democrats for everything, even the problems with the Big Dig. And I’m not much better since I engage him in these arguments. Afterwards, I ask myself, why do I even bother?”
    I chuckled. “That’s a good question. You’ll never change him.”
    “I know,” she said, shaking her head.
    “Hey, I know I’m changing the subject, but what do you want to do for dinner?”
    “I’m not really hungry.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I was thinking we could order some food together. Like a pizza or something.”
    “You can order for yourself, but I’m not going to have any.”
    “Sometimes you get hungry later at night, though.”
    “I’m not hungry now ,” she responded, a hint of a smile appearing on her face.
    “Okay.”
    There was only one good pizza place near our apartment—Boston was horribly lacking when it came to good pizza—but it didn’t deliver, so I called up one of the crappy ones that did, and ordered a small sausage with roasted red peppers. While waiting for the food to arrive, I sat on the couch reading The Boston Globe . After “Sex and the City” was over, Sara began watching “Will & Grace,” another show that I had no interest in. When the pizza arrived I had no choice but to watch the program as I ate. We didn’t have a kitchen table, so we took all of our meals at the coffee table while sitting on the living room couch. During a commercial break, I picked up the remote control and asked Sara if I could scroll through the guide.
    “I guess so,” she replied, obviously not thrilled by the idea.
    I flipped through it and saw that A Few Good Men was on. “So, you want to watch ‘Will & Grace,’ huh?” I asked a little sheepishly.
    “Yes, I do.”
    “So that means you don’t want to watch A Few Good Men ?”
    “That’s exactly what it means.” She shook her head while wearing a slightly amused smile.
    After a few minutes passed, I noticed that she was eyeing my pizza. “That looks good,” she remarked.
    “It’s okay. You know how the pizza places are around here.”
    “I just got hungry.”
    I pointed at her playfully. “See, I knew you would.”
    I took a bite of pizza while she sat there looking at me. I knew she wanted some, but figured I would wait for her to ask for it rather than offer it to her, given that she was reluctant to change the channel.
    Finally she asked, “Can I have a piece?”
    In a dramatic fashion, I looked up at the ceiling, then lowered my gaze to the floor, and finally pressed my lips together as if I was grappling with a tough issue. “Hmm, I seem to recall asking if you wanted to order pizza, and you said no. Therefore, I only ordered a small pizza rather than a large. You know what a big appetite I have.”
    “But I got hungry.”
    “I guess we find ourselves in an interesting situation.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Well, on the one hand, I have the pizza, which you want—”
    “You’re so cruel!” she said, laughing.
    “On the other hand, you have control of the TV, which I would like to change the channel on. It’s quite an interesting situation.” I took a generous bite of pizza and then closed my eyes as if the taste was heavenly. “My goodness, this pizza is good.”
    “I thought it was just okay.”
    “I wasn’t