Chapter 2: Book 1 Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Thank fuck it’s Friday, I thought as I flopped down on my patchy orange two-seater couch. The couch was a second-hand piece of shit, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I settled down in front of the TV for an evening of light entertainment and popped the cap from a bottle of beer in my hand.

I would be forgoing the delights that downtown Flint, Michigan, had to offer and save my very hard-earned cash. Instead, I’d be engaged in a sedate evening, alone, in my apartment. The beer, currently overflowing from the bottle’s neck, was the one creature comfort I allowed myself for the post-work wind down. I quickly stuck the bottle in my mouth and held it in there, supping up the overflow until it subsided.

With the beer crisis averted I looked around me and patted the couch searching for the remote. It took me a few seconds to find it. I was sitting on the bloody thing, of course. I pressed the red button at the top of the black plastic rectangle and the screen flicked to life. It was a few minutes past six, so the local news was on and I decided to listen for a minute, to see if anything important had happened today.

“This is Patricia Delmont coming to you live from outside the Governor’s summer residence on Mackinac island. I’m here trying to get word from our reluctant Governor following the breaking news of yet another infidelity scandal this morning. This is the fourth such scandal to dog Governor Richard Reynolds in as many months. It is beleived he has retreated here to avoid media scrutiny.” The voice on the TV droned.

The young blonde news reporter’s voice filled my small living room. Her voice had a mild nasal quality that I found particularly aggravating tonight. Why she would think a career as a news reporter was a good idea left me flummoxed. She was pretty and had big boobs, though. Which probably explained it.

“I have it on good authority from a very reliable source that the Governor is indeed inside and is finally contemplating resigning his position,” she continued.

I didn’t listen to whatever else she had to say on the subject. Tricky Dicky was always embroiled in some kind of scandal and he never resigned. He always weaselled his way out from under it somehow. Hell, last year he was charged with misappropriation of state funds to pay for a two-week hookers and hash holiday in Amsterdam. The good people of Michigan still re-elected him six months ago. He was like a cockroach.

I used the remote and switched the channel. I groaned when I saw what was on, a sports magazine show with pundits discussing the fortunes of Michigan’s collegiate football programs when the season begins in a few months. I didn’t groan because I didn’t like chucking the pigskin about. On the contrary, despite spending most of my formative years in England I rather enjoyed the game. In my head I still called it American Football but being Stateside I learned to adapt my vocabulary.

No, my groans were for the bad memories thinking about the U of M football program evoked. A program that up until recently I was heavily involved in.

Unfortunately, I dislocated and broke my shoulder midway through my sophomore year. The pandemic meant I could defer for a year and keep my athletic scholarship but before the fall semester I would have to undergo another medical examination. They would conclude what I already knew, my shoulder was fubar’d.

When they found out, I could say adios to that scholarship. I was two years in and had no idea how I would pay for my junior and senior years. I barely managed to keep this less than desirable roof over my head during the summer recess. There was no way I could pay tuition on top.

I flicked the channel again and it was a re-run of a Friends episode. One I’d seen half a dozen times already. Luck was not with me this evening it would seem.

I wasn’t one to indulge in moping over what couldn’t be changed and purged any nascent contemplation of throwing myself a self-pity party. I’d managed to keep myself afloat so far, and I had a couple of months to find a way.

My musings were interrupted as my TV set suddenly turned off. I looked down on the couch and the remote was sitting comfortably on the other cushion. It hadn’t slipped down under my leg and switched the set off by accident. I picked up and jabbed the red button again.

Nothing.

I jabbed the button multiple times, hoping for a different result. Nope. Nothing. Please tell me the TV wasn’t broken. The set was a hand-me-down sympathy gift from one of my better-off teammates and I couldn’t afford to get a new one. I got up to examine the TV in closer detail when I realised the hum of the barely functioning A/C unit had stopped too.

I wandered across the apartment to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The light didn’t come on and its usual faint rattling sound was absent. I performed one last test as I moved back into the living room and toggled the light switch. No light either. The power was out.

My panic subsided, a blackout I could deal with. It was early July so it would be a few hours more until sunset, so I wouldn’t be scrabbling around in the dark.

Unless it wasn’t a blackout and I had been cut off. I ran over to the side table by the front door where I tended to chuck what few letters I received. Had there been a late payment notice? I didn’t recall being behind.

I shuffled through the envelopes quickly but didn’t find any evidence I had defaulted on the electric bill. I glanced out the window and saw the stoplight down the road was off too. It was a blackout after all, and I relaxed.

Therefore, I was shocked by the sudden banging on my door.

Who could that be? I thought to myself. I didn’t have any real friends in Flint. I’d been asked to transfer to the U of M satellite campus here mid-year when I hurt my shoulder. I hadn’t had time to meet many new people and those few I had struck up an acquaintance with had gone home for the summer.

I stuck around during the summer as the rent was more affordable and I managed to get a job stocking shelves at the local Buymart. I would do what was needed to get by and wasn’t too proud to work hard at whatever job was available. Nothing was waiting for me back in England.

There was further banging on the door and then an impatient yelling.

“Open up Mr Carter. I know you’re in there, I saw your curtain twitch just now,” a high-pitched wheezy voice sneered.

Damn it.

Of the incredibly short list of people who could be at my door, Victor Guberschmidt, was the least welcome. He represented the management company that ran the building on behalf of the owners. We had never been formally introduced, but what I’d heard from the other residents, he was a greasy, slimy, thieving rat of a man.

“Victor, it’s already past six in the evening. Can we just leave it,” a feminine voice griped softly.

“Nonsense. He is the last on the list and I’m not leaving this until Monday,” he wheezed, before banging on the door again. “Open up, Mr Carter. Open up or I swear you’ll be out on the street before the weekend is up.”

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I shook my head at his posturing antics and sighed heavily. It was probably best to get this over with and I opened the door wide suddenly and he half fell through the door.

“Can I help you?” I said with false pleasantness.

Victor huffed as he regained his footing and straightened his, too small for him, brown suit. Victor was taller than his voice suggested, almost six foot, but he was clearly carrying eighty pounds more than he ought to be. That extra weight was straining his ill-fitting suit to near breaking point. He had a mop of brown hair arranged in a comb-over, a futile attempt to hide how bald he was going. He was sweating profusely; it was the height of summer after all. I was wearing blue cargo shorts and had even foregone my usual white T-shirt, rocking the Tarzan look.

“I thought that might get your attention,” he sniffed.

“Sorry for the delay. I was trying to fix the A/C unit,” I lied smoothly. “Now can I help you?”

“Yes you can young man. As I’m sure you are aware, I represent the building’s owners and as you are a tenant, we have important matters to discuss,” he insisted smugly.

The woman behind him sighed softly. I broke eye contact with the pompous ass in front of me and took a glance at her.

She was young, close to my age, not much past twenty, if I was any judge. She was as tall as the man beside her and had long dark hair tied in a ponytail. She had pretty almond-shaped brown eyes which suggested some Native American or Asian heritage and full, generously plump lips.

She was dressed more appropriately for the weather in a short cream coloured skirt, with a matching blouse, high heels and handbag. Her ensemble showed off her shapely, tanned, athletic legs and trim waistline. The top couple of buttons of the blouse were undone, due to the heat I was sure, but I wasn’t about to complain. This displayed just enough of her cleavage to suggest that a petite pair of breasts, complementing her slim figure, were concealed within the loose blouse.

My gaze may have lingered a tad longer than it ought to if the harrumph from Victor was any yardstick. The lady in question, however, flashed me an inviting smile. This was an encouraging development. I was a decent looking guy even if I did say so myself, and despite my shoulder troubles was still in pretty decent shape, though perhaps not quite as toned as I was pre-injury.

“You better come in,” I sighed as I returned my look to Victor.

Curiously in the background, I could see smoke rising from behind the other apartment complex in front of us. I wondered if there had been an accident and maybe that was why the power was out. Perhaps someone had crashed into a transformer and knocked it out of commission.

I stepped back into my apartment and gave Victor and the young woman enough room to enter. I didn’t back up too far as I didn’t want the snake of a man to get comfortable, he wouldn’t be staying long. I’d heard enough about him and the kind of shit he tried to pull with the other residents. I folded my arms across my chest and tried to look intimidating.

This didn’t seem to deter the smarmy guy as he entered, looked about the room and sniffed loudly, then closed the door once the young woman had followed him in. His contempt was clear to all.

“This is my daughter Shana…” Victor started.

“Stepdaughter,” Shana corrected in a low voice.

He either didn’t hear his stepdaughter correct him or it was such a commonplace occurrence he didn’t register it any longer.

“…and I’m showing her the ropes of the business like any good father would,” he finished. Shana snorted and rolled her eyes theatrically behind him.

“Nice to meet you, Shana,” I said, making it obvious I was not happy to meet Victor. “You may not have noticed Victor, but the power is out, and I really need to be contacting the supplier or the building super before it gets much later. Now, what is this about?” I asked, returning my attention to him.

“Hmmm yes, well. I have the unfortunate duty to inform you Mr Carter that there is a problem with your tenancy agreement,” he pronounced with a joyless smile.

Here it was, the shakedown. This was what the other residents had warned me of. The slimy shit had a side hustle where he would claim there were ‘irregularities’ with the tenancy agreement. Improper signatures or background checks or some such. Apparently, he would change up his excuses from time to time.

Anyway, the long and the short of it was he would threaten the tenant with eviction, but then offer to sort out the problem for two hundred bucks. Well, he was shit out of luck with me.

First, I didn’t have two hundred dollars to spare. Second, I wasn’t the type to take shit from anybody.

A bit of a rough childhood had taught me one undeniable lesson. If you lay down and let people take from you, you will always be the victim. I decided long ago I was no victim.

That’s the spirit.

I looked around. Where had that voice come from? Ignoring Victor, I uncrossed my arms and walked to the other side of the room. Searching for the origin of the mysterious whisper.

“Mr Carter. Did you hear me, Mr Carter?” Victor repeated loudly as he followed me across the room.

I turned and was about to ask him if he had heard or felt what I had when everything slowed down.

Blink.

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