get the keys.”
I stood awkwardly by the door.
“So...” I said, and I cringed at the sound of my white-guy-trying-to-be-cool voice.”What law firm you work for?”
“Look man, don't even worry about that whole thing,” John said, and like his smile, he had a soothing effect that put me even more at ease. “Mark loves to pull that one. 'Hey, my cousin needs a car, let me send him by.' He doesn't bother saying 'he's a brother.' People don't see it coming. I get it.” His eyes moved away from mine as Anna approached.
Onto her.
No, Brian, you're being a fucking crazy person.
And a racist crazy person at that.
Anna flashed a quick smile at John, and hopped down the steps. We followed her.
My face was aligned with John's head even though he was step ahead of me. His back stretched his shirt with hard muscle.
The guy was extremely attractive. Even I had to admit that. I don't have any gay tendencies, I'm sure of it – and after so many years of living in San Francisco, you get plenty of opportunities. But I had to appreciate the guy's looks. His calm demeanor. He was the kind of guy I'd like to be like.
Anna unlocked the entrance to the apartment and we filed in. The apartment was small but better refurbished than our part of the house. It didn't take long for us to look it over: bathroom, living room with a small enclave with French doors to be used as a bedroom, tiny kitchen.
John glanced over everything perfunctorily without saying anything.
I watched Anna, who seemed to be watching him. My mind was utterly distracted from the main idea here: we were finally going to rent this fucking apartment and be able to pay our mortgage without having to cut back on food. It should have been exciting, but my mind was miles away, reading into every movement of Anna's face, searching for flickers of attraction to John in them.
“Look, if you all are ready to sign on this, this place will work great for me,” John said abruptly. “I've got a load of student loans and I need to rent something ASAP. The price is right.” John was standing with hands in his pockets, looking casual but in a hurry at the same time.
I shifted from foot to foot. I could feel Anna glaring at me through her skin.
“We've already looked at your application,” Anna said, casting her a brief flare of a warning smile in my direction, because in truth we hadn't done much with the application besides look at it sitting on our table. “And honestly, we'd be thrilled to have you. You're a perfect match for this place.”
My mouth opened, and I wished it wasn't doing that. Words began to come out of it, and I cringed as they did. “Yeah,” I said. “You're not a drug addict or unemployed.”
There was a pause as the two of them looked at me strangely. I wasn't even sure why I said that.
“I assure you I'm neither,” John said in his rich tones, smoothing his tie against his hard chest, as neatly as his voice smoothed the whole thing over. To Anna: “Do you have an agreement?”
Anna produced an agreement, seemingly from thin air. And a pen.
I watched the whole thing like I was watching a movie.
What could I do?
Did I even want to do anything to change the outcome of this exchange? The guy was a perfect renter: busy, professional, single, hardly ever home.
Handsome.
Hot.
Maybe a little too perfect.
I looked at Anna, studying her features as she folded her hands to wait for John to read through the agreement. Was she too interested in him? Looking too closely at his face?
Don't be a fucking idiot. She's looking at the paper, not him.
Watching his hands, probably. His big, strong hands, dark on the back and pale on the palms, able to grip anything in his wide palm. A basketball, a woman's head...
Get. A. Grip.
“When can I move in?” he asked, his pen hovering over the paper.
“Anytime. We can pro-rate the rent to any date.”
Was Anna's voice her usual professional voice, or did I hear a tinge of sultry breathlessness?
I stood awkwardly by the door.
“So...” I said, and I cringed at the sound of my white-guy-trying-to-be-cool voice.”What law firm you work for?”
“Look man, don't even worry about that whole thing,” John said, and like his smile, he had a soothing effect that put me even more at ease. “Mark loves to pull that one. 'Hey, my cousin needs a car, let me send him by.' He doesn't bother saying 'he's a brother.' People don't see it coming. I get it.” His eyes moved away from mine as Anna approached.
Onto her.
No, Brian, you're being a fucking crazy person.
And a racist crazy person at that.
Anna flashed a quick smile at John, and hopped down the steps. We followed her.
My face was aligned with John's head even though he was step ahead of me. His back stretched his shirt with hard muscle.
The guy was extremely attractive. Even I had to admit that. I don't have any gay tendencies, I'm sure of it – and after so many years of living in San Francisco, you get plenty of opportunities. But I had to appreciate the guy's looks. His calm demeanor. He was the kind of guy I'd like to be like.
Anna unlocked the entrance to the apartment and we filed in. The apartment was small but better refurbished than our part of the house. It didn't take long for us to look it over: bathroom, living room with a small enclave with French doors to be used as a bedroom, tiny kitchen.
John glanced over everything perfunctorily without saying anything.
I watched Anna, who seemed to be watching him. My mind was utterly distracted from the main idea here: we were finally going to rent this fucking apartment and be able to pay our mortgage without having to cut back on food. It should have been exciting, but my mind was miles away, reading into every movement of Anna's face, searching for flickers of attraction to John in them.
“Look, if you all are ready to sign on this, this place will work great for me,” John said abruptly. “I've got a load of student loans and I need to rent something ASAP. The price is right.” John was standing with hands in his pockets, looking casual but in a hurry at the same time.
I shifted from foot to foot. I could feel Anna glaring at me through her skin.
“We've already looked at your application,” Anna said, casting her a brief flare of a warning smile in my direction, because in truth we hadn't done much with the application besides look at it sitting on our table. “And honestly, we'd be thrilled to have you. You're a perfect match for this place.”
My mouth opened, and I wished it wasn't doing that. Words began to come out of it, and I cringed as they did. “Yeah,” I said. “You're not a drug addict or unemployed.”
There was a pause as the two of them looked at me strangely. I wasn't even sure why I said that.
“I assure you I'm neither,” John said in his rich tones, smoothing his tie against his hard chest, as neatly as his voice smoothed the whole thing over. To Anna: “Do you have an agreement?”
Anna produced an agreement, seemingly from thin air. And a pen.
I watched the whole thing like I was watching a movie.
What could I do?
Did I even want to do anything to change the outcome of this exchange? The guy was a perfect renter: busy, professional, single, hardly ever home.
Handsome.
Hot.
Maybe a little too perfect.
I looked at Anna, studying her features as she folded her hands to wait for John to read through the agreement. Was she too interested in him? Looking too closely at his face?
Don't be a fucking idiot. She's looking at the paper, not him.
Watching his hands, probably. His big, strong hands, dark on the back and pale on the palms, able to grip anything in his wide palm. A basketball, a woman's head...
Get. A. Grip.
“When can I move in?” he asked, his pen hovering over the paper.
“Anytime. We can pro-rate the rent to any date.”
Was Anna's voice her usual professional voice, or did I hear a tinge of sultry breathlessness?
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