Ten Tiny Breaths (Ten Tiny Breaths #1)(3)
I shrug. “Do you care if he does?” Part of me wishes I ignored Livie’s pleading and called the cops over Uncle Raymond’s little “visit” to her room. But Livie didn’t want to deal with police reports and lawyers and Children’s Aid and we’d certainly deal with the full gamut. Maybe even the local news. Neither of us wanted that. We’d had enough of that after the accident. Who knows what they’d do with Livie, since she’s a minor? Probably stick her in foster care. They wouldn’t give her to me. I’ve been classified as “unstable” by too many professional reports to trust with someone’s life.
So Livie and I struck a deal. I wouldn’t report him if she left with me. Last night turned out to be the perfect night to run. Aunt Darla was away at an all-night religious retreat so I crushed three sleeping pills and dumped them into Uncle Raymond’s beer after dinner. I can’t believe the idiot took the glass I poured for him and handed to him so sweetly. I haven’t said ten words to him in the last two years, since I found out he lost our inheritance at a black jack table. He didn’t clue in to the deception though. By seven o’clock, he was sprawled and snoring on the couch, giving us enough time to grab our suitcases, clean out his wallet and Aunt Darla’s secret money box under the sink, and catch the bus out that night. Maybe drugging him and stealing their money was a little excessive. Then again, maybe Uncle Raymond shouldn’t have gone all creepy pedophile.
***
“One-twenty-four,” I read the numbers on the building out loud. “This is it.” This is real. We stand side-by-side on the sidewalk outside of our new home—a three-story apartment building on Jackson Drive with white stucco walls and small windows. It’s a neat-looking place with a beach house feel to it, though we’re half an hour from the beach. If I inhale deeply, I can almost catch a whiff of sunscreen and seaweed.
Livie runs a hand through her wild dark mane. “Where’d you find this place again?”
“www.desperateforanapartment.com?” I joke. After Livie stormed into my room in tears that night, I knew we needed out of Grand Rapids. One internet search led to another and I was emailing the landlord, offering him six months’ of rent in cash. Two years of pouring over-priced Starbucks coffee, gone.
And it’s worth every drop of coffee poured.
We climb the steps and walk up to a gated archway. “The picture with the ad looked great,” I say as I grab and pull the gate handle to find that it’s locked. “Good security.”
“Here.” Livie pushes on a cracked, round doorbell to the right. It makes no sound and I’m sure it’s broken. I stifle back a yawn as we wait for someone to pass through.
Three minutes later, my hands are cupped around my mouth and I’m about to yell the landlord’s name when I hear shoes dragging across concrete. A middle-aged man with rumpled clothes and a scruffy face appears. His eyes are uneven, he’s mostly bald on top, and I swear one ear is bigger than the other. He reminds me of Sloth from that old eighties movie my father made us watch, Goonies. A classic, my dad used to say.
Sloth scratches his protruding gut and says nothing. I’ll bet he’s as intelligent as his movie twin.
“Hi, I’m Kacey Cleary,” I introduce myself. “We’re looking for Mr. Tanner. We’re the new renters from Michigan.” His shrewd gaze lingers on me for a while, sizing me up. I silently praise myself for wearing jeans to cover the sizeable tattoo on my thigh in case he dare judge me on my appearance. His focus then shifts to Livie, where it rests too long for my liking.
“You gals’ sisters?”
“Our matching suitcases give it away?” I answer before I can stop myself. Get inside the gates before you let them know what a smart-ass you can be, Kace.
Luckily, Sloth’s lips curve upward. “Call me Tanner. This way.”
Livie and I share a shocked look. Sloth is our new landlord? With a loud clank and creak, he ushers us through the gate. Almost as an afterthought, he turns to me and extends his hand.
I freeze, staring at those meaty fingers, but not moving to take them. How am I unprepared for this?
Livie deftly swoops in and grabs hold of it with a smile, and I ease back a few steps so there’s no illusion that I’m having anything to do with this guy’s hand. Or anyone’s hand. Livie’s great at saving me.
If Tanner notices the maneuver, he says nothing, leading us through a courtyard with mangy shrubs and dehydrated plants surrounding a rusted hibachi. “This here’s the commons.” He waves his hand dismissively. “If you wanna grill, sun tan, relax, whatever, this here’s the spot.” I take in the foot-high thistles and desiccated flowers along the borders and wonder how many people actually find this space relaxing. It could be nice, if someone tended to it.
“There must be a full moon or something,” Tanner mutters as we trail behind him toward a row of dark red doors. Each has a small window next to it and all three floors are identical.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“You’re the second apartment I’ve rented this past week through email. Same situation—desperate for a place, don’t wanna wait, will pay in cash. Strange. I guess everyone’s got somethin’ to run from.”
Well. How about that? Maybe Tanner is smarter than his movie twin.
“This one here just arrived this morning.” He thumbs a stubby finger at Apartment 1D before leading us to the apartment next to it with a gold ‘1C’ sign on it. His huge set of keys jangles as he searches for one in particular. “Now, I’ll tell you what I tell all my tenants. I’ve only got one rule but it’s a deal breaker. Keep thy peace! Don’t be throwin’ no wild parties with drugs and orgies—”