Dan was nervous. He didn't know how this was going to go. All he knew was that he would be in a terrible position if he were to lose his home, and the kind of person he was, he always expected the worst.
It wasn't his fault. He worked hard. He didn't waste money on unnecessary things. He was humble, not extravagant, and his home was modest at best. Still it was his own home, he had put a lot of time and effort into it, and when he finished work at the end of the day and stepped through his front door he felt relaxed. He felt content. He felt at home. Now it was all in jeopardy, and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even his fault.
Dan had always been a stickler for paying bills on time, rigid with his payments and frightened of debt, so he kept out of the red no matter what. And as anyone with half a brain knew, react wad the first and most important bill to cross off the list. If you didn't pay your rent, you were asking for trouble. The thing is, he thought he had.
He cursed online transactions and payments. Somewhere, somehow, two months ago, Dan had forwarded his rent cost onto his landlady, Helena, but for whatever reason, it had left his account snd never reached hers. The problem was that rather than ask where his due payment was that month, Helena had been lenient and relaxed, assuming it was something that would be corrected in the near future. He had been her tenant for years after all, it wasn't like he was going to run away any time soon. So a month had passed with Dan none the wiser, and therefore not doing anything to address the problem. Then just last week, as Dan found out much to his dismay, he discovered he had bthe victim of fraud. No sooner had his wages been paid in than they had stolen away again by an invisible compilation of numbers and letters through the Internet. To say Dan was distraught would be an understatement.
He contacted his bank, and after some rigorous questioning, was assured that his money was bit in fact gone, and that it would reappear in his account within five working days. As inconvenient as it was he was greatly relieved to know he hadn't worked hard for an entire month for nothing. Just a few phone calls to let anyone know who was expecting anything from him that all would soon be resolved, and all would be fine. He decided to call his landlady Helena first.
'Hi Helena, it's Dan' he greeted her.
'Hello Dan, how are you?' she responded in her thick Eastern European accent.
'Not too good' he explained to her. He told of his situation with the bank, and promised her that by the end of the week his rent would be paid in full.
'Does that include last months as well? She asked him, much to his surprise.
'What do you mean last month, I paid last month on time?
'No Dan you did not. I did not receive any payment from you last month, not since July, it now almost October.
Dan was incredulou. He was certain he had but Helena guaranteed him that he hadn't.
'So you are now two month behind. This is problem' she said in her broken English.
Dan told her he would investigate the situation and get to the bottom of it, and embarked on a lengthy phone call to the bank, which turned out that Helena was indeed correct. He had been the victim of a major fraud, possibly losing hundreds or thousands without noticing over a long period of time. Due to the seriousness of the nature of the crime against him, he was then told by the bank that the investigation into the fraud may take slightly longer and not to expect the payment in five days, but instead that they will try to calculate and reclaim every penny that he had been taken for. Whilst he couldn't really argue with the effort they were making to provide him assistance, he was now faced with another problem. He would have to call Helena back and tell her that he would be able to get all of her money back for her. He just didn't know when that would be.
He called, and he told her. And to his shock, she was furious. She said it was unacceptable, and that legally if he were two months in arrears she could have him evicted. The conversation ended with her telling him she would be in the area on Thursday, and would be making a visit to the property.
'We will discuss when I come there' she told him, and hung up.
And now here he was. It was Thursday. Helena was due any moment, she had text about half an hour ago to make sure that Dan was home. He had no clue how this was going to go. And he was nervous.
Helena had been a most pleasant landlady for the majority of the time that he had rented from her, never intrusive and very relaxed but still Dan found her with the potential to be intimidating and that wasn't something he felt towards many women. Part of it was her age. He didn't know her exact age, but at thirty six years old himself, he placed her at around the same age at the maximum, and possibly up to five years younger at his estimation, certainly not older than him. And despite her relatively young age, she was highly successful particularly for an independent woman. She was born in Hungary, but spoke fluent English, albeit with a broken accent that he found very attractive, and she owned and rented out several properties, as well as having moderate success in writing and modelling. She was often flying around the world, America, Dubai, her homeland, and drove a luxury black Mercedes. He rarely came across such ambitious, powerful women where he lived, and as intelligent and business minded as she was, she was equally as breath-taking physically. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than his six foot two self, busty yet small waisted, with long jet black hair and full lips. He often wondered if she had had any surgery done, as she was almost too good to be true.
Then there was her eyes. Big, sparkling green eyes with long bold eyelashes and always made up, always classy, never too much. She dressed well, looked good and carried herself like the strong woman she was. Dan admired that in her when things were all well and good. But he did not wto be in her bad books.
The knock at the door have him no more time to think about it. He wasn't expecting anyone else. It could only be her. He went to the door to let her in.
Helena wore no expression on her face, no joy nor anger, but she still had that glamorous make up around her eyes and ruby red lipstick she often wore. He hair was straight and black and long enough for her to sit on, and she wore black jeans, with leather black boots over them up to the knee, and a tight black top that showed no cleavage. She had class. She clutched a small black designer handbag by her side, and she walked through the front door and past Dan without a word or glance. Right through his hallway into the kitchen. He wished he had made a bit more effort cleaning up before she had come, but he had been busy himself.
