Rosewood Apartments Management
What the actual fuck? Is this a joke?
“Got your letter, I see,” a withered voice says behind me.
I turn to find my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Bailey, standing in her doorway, leaning against her walker with the puff of white hair on her head illuminated by the fluorescent lights.
“Aye.” I nod in greeting. “I’m hoping this is some sort of prank.”
“I wish it were. Roper came to my door not two hours ago to tell me in person,” she says with disdain.
“How can he do this? Is this even legal?” I’m dumbfounded.
“It’s not him doing it. He didn’t have a say in the matter. He’s not the owner, only management. They’re just making him do all the dirty work. The poor man was sick over the whole thing,” Mrs. Bailey explains.
“How do they expect us all to not only pack up and move out but also find a new place to live?”
She wheezes a sardonic laugh. “They don’t give two shits about us. Why would they when they know the new units will be bringing in three times what we’re paying now?”
I gape at her. “Three times?! That’s absolute bollocks is what that is! Something needs to be done to stop this.”
Shaking her head, she turns to go back inside her apartment. “Too late, sonny boy. It’s already done.”
I stare after her until I hear the locks click into place, then enter my flat, kicking the door closed behind me and dropping my backpack and gym bag on the floor. Raking my fingers through my hair in frustration, I stalk towards the kitchen. What am I supposed to do? Two weeks isn’t feasible atall. I yank a beer out of the fridge and twist the cap off. Taking a deep pull from the bottle, I make my way to the living area and sink onto the sofa, resting my head on the back of it and staring at the ceiling as I process all of this new information.
When I enrolled at UNCW, I knew I wanted to pursue a degree that would allow me to work with nonprofit organizations so I could do my part in making the world a better place. Receiving this bogus eviction notice only fuels that desire. I hate giant corporations that prey on small or local businesses. They don’t care who they hurt as long as those zeros keep getting added to the end of their paycheck. Something needs to change. But for now, I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about finding a new place to live.
Chapter Two
Layla
“Earth to Layla! You’re drooling.”
My eyes snap to Norah’s and widen. “He was… Did he just… I didn’t imagine that, did I?” I’m stumbling over my words like I’ve just learned the English language.
“No, you definitely did not. If I’ve learned anything over the last week, these Irishmen don’t have a problem expressing themselves.” Norah says with a giggle.
“Holy hell, Norie. How do you stand it?”
She tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust after barely even speaking to him. I can’t imagine being in a relationship with one of them.”
This just makes Norah laughharder.
“What?” I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m serious!”
“I know you are, Lay. Trust me, I get it. They’re overwhelming in the best way.” Norah sighs dreamily.
We make our way out of the stadium and head towards the parking lot where I hug Norah goodbye before getting in my car. Just as I start the engine, my cell starts ringing. It’s my Mamá.
“Hola,Mami.” I greet her enthusiastically.
My mother, Raquel, is from Mexico originally but came to the States when she was fifteen. She met my father, Roberto, five years later, and it was love at first sight. They wasted no time starting their family. Mamá made it her mission to teach all of her children both Spanish and English, because being bilingual opens more doors in job fields.
“Hi,mija! How are you?” she croons.
“Good,” I tell her. “I just left a soccer game that Norah invited me to.”
