Page 15 of Small Towns, Wild Hearts

God, I suddenly wanted to take her to bed. Part of it was that I hated it when people didn’t like me. I was a delightful person when you got to know me. A bigger part of it was that I didn’t like it when women didn’t like me. As a rule, women usually liked me. A lot. But most of the issue was that there was something about this particular woman that had started to get under my skin. Maybe it was simply that she didn’t like me. It was novel. Curious.

“No one can stay at the inn,” Noah informed us. “Every room upstairs looks about like this.”

“Ohh, coffee’s ready!” Aunt Nattie seemed to have recovered from whatever realization she’d had, but hadn’t shared it with us so far. She poured coffee, offered us cream and sugar, and then sat back down.

“Well,” she said. “There’s nothing for it until I can get Mr. Mulligan out.”

“I don’t understand,” Drea said.

“My mistake, dear,” Aunt Nattie said. “I meant to rent you the other side. Mr. Mulligan’s side. He stopped paying rent and told me he was leaving, but I suppose I never really made sure. I sent Wanda in there to clean the place, thinking I’d been very clear that someone new was moving in, but she must have gotten confused. Rock, you were gone, see, and so... she just put you in the wrong side, dear.” Aunt Nattie shrugged as if this was no big deal.

“I’ve been living in the wrong apartment for six months?” Drea asked, one hand pressed to her chest, a gesture that had my mind going places that were wholly inappropriate for coffee and muffins with one’s aunt.

“This Mulligan guy needs to leave,” I said. “Easy as that.”

“Right,” Aunt Nattie said, only she didn’t sound sure. “It’s just that, well, he’s a bit of a character.” This, coming from the biggest character I knew.

“Who’s been living rent free for six months and didn’t bother to mention it. Did he live there when I did?” I asked.

Aunt Nattie nodded.

“I’ve never seen the guy. Or heard him.” That was strange.

“Me either,” Drea said. “I mean, I’ve seen the cats.”

Noah sighed. “Mom thinks he’s a vampire.”

I spit out my coffee. “Sorry,” I said, wiping at the table with a paper towel. “What, now?”

“When he moved in, there was a, erm... a, well. He sleeps in a coffin.” Aunt Nattie looked embarrassed by this news.

“Why’d you rent to this guy?” I asked her.

“He sent a proxy,” Noah explained. “A fancy lawyer guy who made all kinds of stipulations but promised he would never be a problem in any way.”

“Uh, that rent thing seems like an issue,” I pointed out.

“Mom, do you still have the lawyer’s info?”

“I do,” she said, rising and looking dramatically around the ruined kitchen as if it might be poking from between two destroyed tiles. “Somewhere.”

“In the meantime,” I said. “I need my place. I have a big pickle ball tournament this week.”

Drea actually snickered.

“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to her. “Do you find my job amusing?”

“Wait,” she said, stifling another chuckle. “I thought you played hockey?”

“I do. It’s an all-star game. They’re paying me to play.”

“That’s cool, man,” Noah said. “I think Mrs. Tanner is playing in that tournament too.”

“My boss? Lottie?” Drea asked.

Aunt Nattie nodded. “Lots of locals are playing. They paid some sports guys to come take on the local team. The Singletree Soup Slingers are pretty tough.”

“The Sing...” I couldn’t even repeat what she’d just said. I dropped my head into my hand. I wasn’t even playing proper athletes? Lottie Tanner was nice, but she was pushing seventy and spent her days finding creative ways to add alcohol to baked goods. This was ridiculous.

---