Author's Note: This will probably be part 1 of a series, so any and all feedback is definitely appreciated (as always). Thanks!
*****
For almost four hours, Amelia had been pacing around her apartment. Each time she passed her kitchen, she would pause, sigh, and stare at the letter on her counter labeled "FINAL NOTICE." Then she would groan in frustration and take another lap around her apartment.
Amelia's roommate had unexpectedly moved out three months ago, leaving her to pay the rent alone until she could find someone new. At first it wasn't a big deal; Amelia took a couple extra shifts at the bar and had just enough saved to make it work. Or she did, until one month later when the transmission on her Nissan had died. It took over two weeks to fix it, and she'd had to rent a car or else miss work. Things had just spiraled down the drain from there.
In the end, Amelia was almost two months behind on rent, as the letter on her counter explained in all capital letters. Which meant she either had to find a couple thousand dollars fast, or find a new place to live - which wouldn't be easy without any money for a security deposit and a bad landlord reference. Amelia had spent all morning trying to figure out a solution, but the only thing she'd been able to think had been
godfuckingdamnit
on repeat.
Ok, Amy. Focus on the solution, not the problem
, she thought to herself. After a couple more rounds of cursing, she took her own advice.
Go down to the office, throw yourself at the landlord's mercy.
The owner of Amelia's apartment complex, Mr. Thurston, was a pleasant old man and he'd always been nice to her. If she explained that her car was fixed now, that she'd be taking extra shifts at work, that she was finding a roommate, and that she'd catch up as soon as she could...
Throw in a short skirt and bat my eyelashes, maybe he'll cut me a break.
Amelia stopped staring at the letter and began to stare at her closet. She wasn't above flirting with her landlord to get an extension on paying her rent, she decided.
Hell, is it any worse than wearing a low cut shirt to get better tips at work?
If a winning smile and a little bit of skin could buy Amelia a couple extra weeks, it was worth it.
Just a little bit of extra skin
, Amelia told herself.
Don't want to go overboard and seem skanky. Or worse, too much cleavage and you'll give the poor old man a heart attack.
Amelia settled on a red tank top, low-cut enough to show off her full breasts, but not too much. She matched it with her shortest pair of jean cutoff shorts, showing off her long, athletic legs. A little cleavage to catch his attention, with enough bare leg to be dangerous to Mr. Thurston's health. Amelia tied her long blonde hair back to keep it from accidentally obstructing the view. After throwing on some quick make-up and her lucky heels, Amelia finally felt ready. As she played through her excuses in her head, though, the knot in her stomach only grew.
Her doubts about the effectiveness of her plan began to fade after she walked out of her apartment into the carpeted hallway and one of her neighbors walked by. He did a complete double-take when he saw her and nearly walked into the wall.
Well,
Amelia thought,
maybe my strategy has some promise after all.
By the time she'd arrived at the main office, she'd passed enough lingering eyes that her hopes were buoyed. Amelia strode into her landlord's office with confidence.
The main office was small, really just a cheap wooden desk and a computer, with a tall metal filing cabinet next to the only window. A "Classic Boats" calendar hung on one wall over a filing cabinet and a plant Amelia was fairly sure was fake stood in the far corner.
The man sitting behind the desk, however, was not Mr. Thurston. Mr. Thurston was a stocky, elderly gentleman in pleated slacks and a faded polo shirt, with a round, jolly face and thin white hair. This man was tall, with closely cropped dark hair and a strong jaw shadowed by what looked like a couple days' worth of stubble. His dark suit set off his sharp blue eyes. Instead of looking like he was ready to go golfing, he looked like he was ready to process her taxes.
"Sorry," Amelia hesitated, looking around, "I was looking for the landlord?"
The man did not look up from his computer. "I'm the landlord," his answer was flat and succinct.
Amelia was taken aback by his tone, "What happened to Mr. Thurston?"
"The building is owned by Thurston and Son, Inc. I'm the 'and son'."
"And your name is...?" Amelia prodded.
He looked up in surprise. After a moment, he laughed wryly and shook his head, as if clearing out the cobwebs. "Sorry. I've been spending too much time in spreadsheets. My name is Joshua. What can I do for you?"
Well, progress already,
Amelia told herself. She'd been discouraged by Joshua's demeanor when she entered. Once he laughed, however, the ice thawed from his voice and he actually smiled. Maybe she could get through to him. And if she did have to flirt a little, well, Joshua was certainly easier on the eyes than Mr. Thurston.
"I'm Amelia Smith, I live in apartment 306..." Amelia's voice trailed off. When she mentioned the unit number, Joshua's eyes narrowed and he glanced back at his computer screen.
"Ah yes, Ms. Smith. Please, have a seat." The businesslike tone had returned to Joshua's voice. Amelia sat on the brown vinyl conference chair across from him. Joshua, however, only stared at his screen. A few clicks of the mouse later, he sat back.
"Missing rent for August, September, October, plus late charges," He read off his screen.
Amelia interrupted to try to defend herself, "Not entirely, I did pay some in August..."
Joshua nodded, not turning his eyes away from his computer yet, "I do see that. Less than the total late fees though."
"Better than nothing though, right?" She offered with a weak laugh.
"From your perspective, probably not. You might've been better off saving it and negotiating an amicable eviction."
Eviction?
