Page 58 of Bishop

“Yes,” I slowly answered, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “Is that a problem?”

“When I allowed you to rent from me, Ms. Wild, it was with the understanding that you paid on time,” he gave me a stern look at that, “and that you would be a quiet tenant. So far, you’ve violated both of those agreements!”

My chest constricted at his unspoken threat. “Look, Charles, I’m sorry about the bounced check. But I made that right. And, as far as my visitors are concerned, I wasn’t aware I couldn’t have any, just that I had to keep the noise level down when they were here. Unless someone complained, I can’t understand why it’s a problem at all.”

Charles shook his head. “This is why I didn’t want a child as a tenant. They’re rude, inconsiderate, and untrustworthy.”

“I’m not a child,” I protested. “I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman who is an excellent tenant.”

Sighing, my landlord adopted a pinched expression. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to raise your rent to offset these many inconveniences.”

A cold wave of panic washed over me then. “You can’t do that! I can barely afford the rent as it is.”

Shrugging, Charles leaned against the counter like he owned the place. Which he kind of did. But he had no right to behave like this in the home I paid for and hadn’t invited him into.

“I guess you’re just going to have to get a real job. Not just make cookies for friends here and there for some extra pocket change,” he spoke condescendingly.

I gritted my teeth at his disrespectful words. “I have a real job. I own my own catering business.”

“A better-paying one then,” he amended cruelly.

“What is the rent going up to?” I inquired out of morbid curiosity.

“Rent will be raised an additional two hundred dollars per month,” Charles smugly informed me.

I nearly choked at his response. “Two hundred dollars! That’s insane. I can’t pay that!”

My landlord’s beady eyes zeroed in on my chest. Licking his lips lasciviously, he added, “I’d consider alternative forms of payment if you’re struggling to scrounge up the cash. I’m not heartless, Ms. Wild.”

My face flamed over in embarrassment and disgust. He couldn’t be saying what I thought he was saying. “What do you mean by ‘alternative forms of payment’.”

Charles grabbed a peanut butter cookie off of the cooling tray. “Perhaps, like your friends, I wouldn’t mind if you paid me in sweet treats.”

I almost dry heaved at his insinuation. “You want to be paid in cookies?”

His smile told me we weren’t talking about dessert anymore. “If that’s what you want to call it. Yes.”

I knew it! The man was an absolute toad! “Get out!” I shouted, not able to stand one more second of his sickening presence.

Charles’s face stormed over. “What did you say to me, young lady?”

“I asked you to leave! I didn’t invite you into my home. You walked in unannounced and uninvited. If you don’t get out right this second, I’m calling the cops.”

“That’s not a good choice, Ms. Wild,” Charles said, his eyes shrinking to hostile slits. “And I’d rethink that insolent tone of yours if you don’t want to find yourself homeless come the first of the month.”

I didn’t know much, but I knew that even renters had rights. “Evict me if you want. But, until then, I want you to stay away from me and my apartment.”

Charles walked toward the door and turned just before he left. “Fine. But you’d better find a new place to live if you can’t afford this one and you aren’t amenable to other forms of payment.”

Enraged now, I grabbed a cookie and chucked it at him as hard as I could. The sweet treat slammed into his shoulder with a satisfying thud. “I said. Get. Out!”

Spinning on his heel, Charles exited my door and I quickly locked it behind him. I didn’t even realize that humiliated tears were streaking down my cheeks until I felt the hot liquid drip onto my shaking hand.

My phone rang then, and I blindly answered it without checking who was calling. “Hello?”

“Evie, what’s wrong?” Matty asked me then, his tone one of deep concern.

“Nothing,” I dismissed, but my voice gave away my obvious distress.

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