Ch 4 of something: Chad gets his own bachelor pad

By noon, Chad was fully refreshed and ready to call the landlord’s number on the slip he tore from the ad at the pool hall the night before. Wearing only his boxers, he lay on his couch with his feet up on the back and dialed the phone.

When the phone was finally picked up, the guy on the other ended sounded weird. Like he had some kind of bug in his mouth talking for him. They agreed to meet at the place.

Chad was not exactly thrilled to see the building with its rusty chain-link fence, cracked parking lot, and windows riddled with bullet-holes, but he figured it’d get him some street cred. In the lobby with the red carpet runners duct-taped to the tiled floor, he was informed by the female guard sitting behind a desk watching a panel of security camera screens, half of which were static, that the landlord was not able to make it but she would show him the room. The guard, who looked like a troubled blobfish, eased herself off her swivel chair and escorted Chad to the elevator.

The guard watched Chad with one, unblinking glazed eye, and Chad counted the number of male body parts sketched in permanent marker on the walls of the elevator. The door opened onto a carpeted hallway. He was happy that not all the lights were out, otherwise it would have been too dark to see where not to step. The guard stopped at apartment 7B, tried about ten different keys, and let them both in.

The room was the total opposite of what the building implied it would be. It was large and airy, with more than enough space for his weightlifting set and treadmill. On one side, sunlight streamed through French windows. He opened the door and stepped onto the balcony. The view was incredible—he could even see the ocean on the horizon. If he squinted, he might even be able to see the babes on the beach.

He went back in and checked out the kitchen with all the modern appliances and marble counters where his girlfriend would be able to cook for him. There was one large bedroom already furnished with luxurious down comforters and pillows in the most pristine white he had ever seen. The bathroom sparkled with gold, porcelain, and crystal. He couldn’t count the number of jets in the tub, and it looked like the toilet wiped you itself.

He returned to the guard who was waiting by the door. “I’ll take it!” The woman, who now watched him with her other unblinking but less glazed eye, took a folded packet of papers out of her pocket and opened it up. “This here’s the lease. Look it over.”

Chad scanned it. The price was more than reasonable for everything he was getting. Not being the best reader, he didn’t understand the part that released the landlord from any responsibility for illnesses related to asbestos, lead, or radon, but the rest of the document seemed what he guessed was pretty standard. He wrote and signed his name to the best of his ability (they didn’t teach football players cursive—or printing, for that matter) and handed it back to the guard.

 She tore off the top page and handed it to him. The rest she folded up and returned to her pocket. “Landlord’ll sign it later and call you.” She took a few minutes to work the key off the ring, tossed it on the counter, and walked away.

He jumped on the bed and kicked his feet in the air. This was crazy! The apartment looked more like it belonged in Beverly Hills than the neighborhood he found it in. It was almost as nice as his own crib in his father’s mansion.

Back in the kitchen, he checked the refrigerator before snatching the key off the counter. Chad threw the key in the air and cheered before he caught it. He locked the door using the knob’s lock and headed back home.

It was time for the new tenant of apartment 7B to start packing.