Page 8 of Steam

Part II

The Duet

Barrett lovedeverything about his condo except for the mailboxes.

Yes, he’d just moved there, and yes it was his dream spot… but he was really beginning to wonder if the mailbox situation was going to be a dealbreaker.

His condo was in the most beautiful old building in the San Marco neighborhood. The real estate listing had used words like stunning, charming, and “a historic jewel”—and Barrett couldn’t honestly say that they were exaggerating. The enormous old apartment building was renovated in the 90s, but even as the developer chopped and reworked units, they maintained the historic accents that made the place worthwhile: the heart pine floors, the big glazed windows overlooking the sleepy street, and crystal knobs on every door.

If his condo had been a guy, Barrett would’ve married him without hesitation. When he saw the place, he just had to have it.

But here’s the thing about buying a condo, Barrett had realized: he couldn’t learn everything there was to know about his own unit—would never understand what it was truly like to live there—until he actually moved in.

In the three weeks since he’d settled in, he learned plenty of the little details.

Miss Perkins, who shared one wall with his condo, was spending her retirement years cooking, for example. Barrett couldn’t speak to the quality of what she made since she had yet to offer him anything (though his fingers were crossed), but if the smells that wafted through the vent on the north side of his condo were any indication, she was fabulous at it.

Directly above him on the third floor, too, there was someone who played the piano beautifully. The neighbor played for an hour every day like clockwork, starting at eight. Whoever they were, they were on an Erik Satie kick when Barrett moved in. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that on his first night at the condo, he’d been so moved during their rendition of Gnossienne 4 that he’d stood still and stopped what he was doing for the duration, just so he could listen.

Then there was the family on the first floor whose youngest child, David, spoke to Barrett every time their paths crossed. He was the most serious little boy Barrett had ever met—couldn’t have been older than seven—and when Barrett told David that he was a lawyer, the child corrected him, saying that his father had told him Barrett was the assistant public defender for Florida’s Fourth Judicial Circuit.

“Well, I stand corrected,” Barrett had said, shocked.

“That’s okay.”

Thank goodness David had it in his little heart to forgive Barrett for the oversight.

The condo complex, however, wasn’t all talented older residents and exceptional children and polished hardwood floors and neighborly goddamn harmony.

There was also the mail situation.

* * *

If you wereto ask Josh, he would tell you that it had been an honest mistake.

Jacob Barrett… Joshua Rosen… The two names looked a little similar if you just glanced at them.

Especially, Josh reasoned, if you were looking at something printed in a tiny font while you were running on two hours of sleep because you’d painted all night and in a hurry to get inside your condo so that you could crash for a few hours.

So I picked up the guy’s package by accident,Josh thought. Fucking sue me.

(He took the joke back in his mind immediately. The guy—with his expensive shirts and ever-present briefcase—looked to Josh like the kind of person who might sue a neighbor for accidentally picking up his package.)

Josh had thought the package was full of the specialty paintbrushes he’d ordered ages ago. He’d been waiting on them so long that he decided to move on to a piece that didn’t require them.

So, yeah, the package had sat on Josh’s counter in the kitchen for a full week before he opened it and realized the mixup.

He’d gotten all the way to his studio before he opened it up. That had been a strange day. He was looking for paintbrushes and then there he was, instead, lifting a human-sized pink leather collar out of a cardboard box.

He held the thing up. Stamped on the leather was a name: Princess.

The leather was supple and soft, clearly handmade… Definitely nicer than the type of thing you’d put on a dog.

Josh had accidentally picked up somebody’s weird sex collar. Jacob Barrett’s weird sex collar, according to the label on the box when he finally checked it. He called their condo property manager immediately and told her what had happened. She called Jacob Barrett—the owner of the collar—and then Josh, saying Jacob would meet Josh at 7:45 by the mailboxes to receive his package.

* * *

Barrett had wanteda puppy for forever.

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