Page 35 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
I uncap my favorite pen. “Why don’t you want me to be your neighbor, Mike?”
“Because you’re difficult. Your expectations are too high. You’re used to a Del Mar mansion, not some 1940s beach cottage. You’ll wheedle out of our contract the second you find a crack in the plaster or realize the concrete pavers slope, and then I’ll be…” He trails off. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Awfully judgy of you.”
“You could rent a brand-new condo on La Jolla Village Drive.”
“And still be stuck in forty minutes of traffic every time I want to walk by the beach.”
“If you take Torrey Pines, it’s only twenty.”
“And if I sign now, I can walk to all my new clients.”
“Beatrice.” He stays my hand with his own. “This is a bad idea.”
“Because my little brother’s your boss?”
He looks delightfully annoyed. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
“Mike, you were only too willing to rent your charming beach cottage to me, and for a reasonable rate, when you didn’t know what I looked like or what my name was. Now that you do, well, this becomes a very open-and-shut case of discrimination. You want to fight me in court, waste some of your reno money over litigation?”
“This right here. It’s exactly why I don’t want you to rent my place.”
“Keep saying things like that, and you may actually hurt my feelings,” I huff in frustration. “Come on. It’s true what Adam said.”
“‘This is a good thing?’”
I sigh. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
“I’ll know.” I expect a guttural groan, but instead I see a fleeting smile. Mike sighs. “Fine. Let’s do this.” He scrawls his signature on the last page. “I should warn you about the quirks of the property.”
“Oh?” I put my fountain pen to paper.
“Your parking space is in the garage, and there’s no easy access from it to your half of the property. You’ll have to park and then walk up the exterior stairs and cut across my place.”
“Pass.”
“Or you could walk around the block to your gate in the alley.”
“Or I could just park on the street.”
He snorts. “Sure. Have fun spending thirty minutes looking for parking and another fifteen walking back.” He sets the garage door clicker on the table.
I swipe the clicker up. “Parking is a little odd. Anything else?”
“We share a set of trash bins. They’re on the back patio behind the bougainvillea trellis, right on the other side of your privacy fence. Pickup is in the alley every Monday. I’m happy to wheel them out.”
“It’s fine. I’ll do it.” I’d rather wheel out bins than let Mike traipse through my courtyard every Monday morning.
“Landscaping is every Friday and is included in your rent.”
“Do I need to leave the gates unlocked for the gardener?”
“No, I’ve got that covered. I do advise against leaving the gate to your courtyard unlocked. The locals can get pretty brazen when it comes to outdoor showers and places to wax their surfboards.”
“Noted. Now are we done? I’m supposed to be meeting a moving van in twenty.” I scrawl my name right above Mike’s.
He pulls out the keys. “For the gate.” He holds the larger of the keys. “For the cottage.” He points to the smaller key. “A spare set of keys is on the kitchen counter. You’ve got the second bay in the garage—the one without the construction dumpster parked in it. In case that isn’t clear.”
