Page 22 of Zimyra

Atlantic Clubhouse

Zimyra St. Claire

Properties Manager

Atlantic Properties

I send the email and then start on the flyers when I hear the door chime. I glance up to see Mr. Alton step inside. He says, “Hey there, young lady.”

“Hey, Mr. Alton. Are you just getting off work?”

“Yes. I just walked over here to drop off the rent.”

“Still don’t like paying on the portal, huh?” I ask. He’s old school like that. In fact, there are a handful of tenants who pay by money order. Before I started working here, I wasn’t aware money orders were still a thing.

“No. I like to put it right in your hand so I know you have it.”

“I heard that.”

“Oh, and thanks for getting that clog in my drain out. It’s as good as new.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, feeling like a hypocrite, knowing I had nothing to do with that. “Hey, before you leave, you know I’m having another paint and sip. You loved the last one. Make sure you sign up if you want to participate.”

“Oh, I’m signing up as soon as I walk back over there to my apartment. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Have a good one, Mr. Alton.”

“You as well.”

I glance at the clock. I’ve been on pins and needles, anticipating Axel returning with his compadre in tow. The office closes in thirty minutes and there’s no sign of him.

Thank goodness.

I was already on edge when I left the restaurant, pretending not to notice the rays from his eyes sinking into my skin as I made my exit. Capri had the nerve to laugh herself silly when we finally made it outside.

I get up to start shutting the place down. There isn’t much to do but vacuum the entrance and turn off the lights. I run to the bathroom real quick because I know I’m going to be stuck in the afternoon rush hour, making my commute home twice as long as it typically is.

After washing my hands, I return to the front to find Axel sitting in my chair.

“Are you freaking—”

I instantly regret yelling. I don’t want to give this man any indication that he’s gotten under my skin, but he has. I take a breath to reset and say, “You’re not allowed behind my desk.”

“Oh. My bad.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you look surprised?” he asks. “I told you I was coming back.”

“For what?”

He takes more folded papers out of his pocket and hands them to me. “That’s Mauricio’s application. When do you think we can officially start?”

How about never?

That thought crosses my mind, but the way Mr. Alton was excited about his unclogged sink does as well. Hiring Axel and Mauricio will take the stress off of having to start the process from scratch. Putting ads on job boards is stressful. Interviews are stressful. I have enough to do in the course of a day. If I’m working smarter and not harder, hiring these two buffoons is my best option no matter how much I don’t like them. Who says you have to like the people you work with?

I ask, “Did you follow me to lunch today?”

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