Page 34 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
At least I know I look impeccable. I tilt my chin up at him and smile. “Hello, Mike.”
His full lips press into a hard line before he turns back to my brother. “So, should we pull up a fourth chair for your buddy? I’m hoping to make this quick. I’ve got an audition…” Mike hesitates and, for the briefest moment, glances in my direction. “Somewhere I gotta be at eleven.”
He then pulls out a copy of the rental contract I’d reviewed earlier this week, along with a set of keys.
“What is going on?” I demand.
Mike’s brow furrows. “I’m signing a rental contract—“
“No,I’msigning a contract.“ I turn to Adam. “You should have told me there were competing offers.”
“Bea,” Adam says, but I hold up my hand. I’m not about to get into a bidding war with Mike, of all people.
“The cottage is mine, and I’m not about to let some van-dwelling, ponytailed cosplayer take it from me.” There’s no sweetness in my smile now. “Go on. Run along to your little audition. The adults have some real business to take care of.”
Mike laughs and takes a seat in the empty chair. He reaches for an almond croissant, but I slide the plate out of reach.
“No,” I say. “These aren’t for you.”
“Bea,” Adam says in warning, but he stops when I glare at him. I’m done playing nice.
Mike breathes in slowly and leans back in his chair. “Who are they for?”
“My new landlord. Now, scoot.” I make a shooing motion with my fingers.
Mike drums his fingers on the bistro table before he rounds on Adam. “You told me that one of your dad’s lawyer people was interested in my rental.”
Myrental?
“And she is one of my dad’s lawyer people. If I had told you it was Bea, you wouldn’t have agreed,” Adam says. To me, he says, “Same with you. You’re both welcome.”
Wait. “What are you talking about?” Oh my stars and Shakespeare. Mike Benedick can’t be the owner of my beach cottage.
Adam helps himself to my untouched cup of tea. “I saw how weird you both were after the birthday party. And then Mike’s been extra—“
“I’m not doing this,” Mike cuts in, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m not living on the same property as her.”
“Excuse me?” I stare at Adam, who is trying hard to keep his chill. “He’slivingthere?“ Now I contemplate taking the last of the pastries and shoving them in Adam’s face.
“I told you that the owner is renovating the main house. I did.” He pulls up his phone and queues up his text. “See?” He smiles as if he’s cleared everything up.
The owner indeed. I really hate my brother right now. “No one said anything about renovations.” What kind of noisy mess will I be moving into? So much for hearing the ocean. “You should have disclosed that,” I say to Mike. “It should have been included in the contract.”
He’s getting more annoyed by the minute. “You’re right. And that omission”—he stares daggers at Adam—“proves that I’m not going to be the landlord you deserve. So you don’t need to sign. We can tear this up. No big deal. I’ll find another renter.”
“Will you, though?” Adam asks with the most good-natured smile, accompanied by a scrunch of his nose. “Or were you just speaking in hyperbole when you mentioned you’ve had a tough time finding a renter who is cool with the construction?”
“I’m going to kill you,” Mike says.
“No, you won’t. I run fast. And I sign your paycheck. Come on, Bea’s not so bad.”
It’s my turn to cross my arms. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“She works like a dog. And she’ll be out walking a fleet of them. So you’ll never even see her. This is a good thing. Sign the contract. Hand over the keys. Pretend that fence is a literal ocean separating the two of you and move on with your lives.” Adam checks his phone. “Love to stay, but I’ve got a pitch to make to some investors. I’m sure you’ll let me know how this turns out.” He leaves. Smug and chill. Oh, he’s going to pay for this.
Meanwhile, I need a place to live, or at the very least send all my cacti that are being hauled from Del Mar as we speak.
I can handle a little hammer-pounding.
