Page 15 of Landlord Wars
I looked up and rattled off: “Mortality rates, infection rates, disease rates by population density—”
“How do you even know these things? You’re an artist.”
“There was a lot of math in business school.” I twisted my mouth to the side. “Though I always seem to struggle with convertingmiles into kilometers, which is annoying as hell, since I have to do it every week.”
Elise snorted. “We’re not European. Why would you need to use kilometers?”
“Most countries use kilometers, Elise, and I work with international clients.”
“When do you deal with foreigners?”
I shook my head in exasperation. “Only on a weekly basis. Do you ever pay attention when I tell you about my job?”
My criticism rolled right off her. “I zone out from time to time. You can blame it on the five hours of sleep I get during exams, which seems to be every other week.”
I pulled out my bag and started packing up my work materials. I was going to be late if I didn’t get a move on. “Well, the large events I plan are with people from all over the world, and it trips me up when they talk about kilometers and getting around the city.” I held up my drawing before tucking it in a folder. “What do you think?”
Elise leaned in because she was farsighted and wasn’t wearing her glasses. Her lips puckered. “What kind of shop is that?”
“A high-end beauty salon. They’re going for a nature theme.” My sister usually praised everything I worked on, but she was taking forever to give me her opinion on this one. Which had me wondering if it was crap.
I was about to reassess when she finally nodded. “If that’s a design for a salon, it’s going to be the nicest one in town.”
“Are you sure?” I scanned my work one last time. I couldn’t add additional plants, but I could reposition them and put in more height in certain areas.
“I’m certain. They giving you gift certificates for all your hard work? Because I could use a facial.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’ll be nice when you’re no longer a starving student. No, my clients aren’t giving me gift certificates. They’re doing this thing called payment for services rendered. Also known as capitalism.”
Her rose-hued lips pulled into a straight line as though she disapproved. “What about tips for good work?”
“No tips. Quality is expected, or people hire someone else.”
She threw up her hands. “And this is why I’m not studying business.” She pulled off the hair band that was perpetually on her wrist and swept her hair into a low ponytail.
Elise’s hair was a couple shades darker than mine, though my skin tone more closely resembled our father’s Mediterranean heritage. So, essentially, my hair coloring was light brown next to tan skin—not much contrast there. I’d take Elise’s blowout goddess hair in a heartbeat, but my pale-green eyes weren’t so bad.
I glanced at my phone and tucked away the design. “I’ve got to go.” There was just enough time for me to swing by my client’s shop before it closed for the day. “I want to get this approved before I start on the digital renderings.” I paused and watched Elise hoist her heavy tote onto her shoulder. “Regarding the apartment, my landlord—owner, whatever—is a dealbreaker. It won’t work.” Best to leave Elise with the short explanation and make a fast getaway.
Her expression was pure disbelief. “Are you kidding me?Thatis the reason you’re moving? Because you think the hot landlord sucks?”
I stepped into a pair of heels I’d tucked under my desk and rooted around for some cash in my purse. “Don’t give me a hard time. Landlords can make a place a living hell.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is he making it a living hell? Or are his hellish good looks distracting you?”
I squinted in disbelief. “What is wrong with you? Not everyone obsesses over looks.” I had exactly one minute to catch a ride to my client’s store if I wanted to make it there by closing. So I opted for blunt, knowing I’d pay for it later. “Landlord Devil doesn’t trust me, and he’s made that very clear. Not to mention he’s rude and arrogant, and he gets on my nerves.”
Elise tipped her head back and groaned, and her tote slid down her arm like an anchor. “You are so exhausting sometimes, you know that? Who cares what he thinks? I can understand why it wouldn’t make sense for me to come over as often as we’d planned, but to move out? Have you lost your mind, Sophia?”
Possibly. All I knew was that the animosity I felt around Max was too much to bear. “He lives above me. I can feel his negative energy seeping through the drywall and down into my bedroom.” I shivered. “And he has uptight friends and family—except for my roommate, who is awesome. But the rest of them stress me out too.” I tried to shove cash into her hands, but she swatted me away. I let out a sigh and looked her in the eye. “The pressure to please uptight people will kill me. Now, take this cash so you can get yourself a proper book bag.”
A touch of anger flared in her eyes. “I don’t need a new book bag. And have you ever considerednottrying to please everyone?”
I shook my head dramatically. “Does not compute.” I was a sad case, but my sister knew this, and she still loved me. “I’m going to start looking for an apartment tonight.”
Elise slammed her hand on my desk, and I jumped.
I glanced around and said, “What the hell, Elise! We’re at my work.”
