Page 17 of You'll Love it Here

Wait. Does she mean for me to be, like, a temporary super?

I interject too. “I’m not sure I’d be able to—”

“Oh, you’d be great!” Lana turns to Irene. “There’s nothing to it.”

I can kind of believe that is the case with the way Irene’s been running things.

Irene’s eyes flash just before Lana continues. “And I know my aunt would be happiest with a tenant who really cares.”

Shit. I force the guilt to still.

Irene’s grin is too hopeful. “It would only be while I’m recovering. I’m sure not too much can happen in that time.”

“Yes, I’m happy to do it.”

“Great!” Lana actually makes eye contact with me as she makes her way over. “My aunt needs help with the operation of this place and wants to avoid the rental companies. Given her injury, she’ll need to rest.” Lana’s pointed stare shifts to Irene, who shakes her head, before returning to me. “So we appreciate you alleviating the burden.”

“Absolutely!” And I really mean it as I stare at Irene. Having something to do might be the only way to keep myself going. I’vebeen so lucky. I can get my life back on track and I won’t screw up again. But before that, I can help this lady. I can make amends for my wrongs. I don’t have to be like—

“What’s with your perverted smile?” Irene’s scrunching her face into her glasses.

My expression blanks. “I just... I’m happy to help.”

“Mmm.” Irene shifts in the bed.

“Great! We really do appreciate it.” Lana walks over and lifts her hand for a shake, her sandalwood perfume overriding the smell of disinfectant.

I take her bony hand as she says, “I’ll come by later and get you everything you need.”

“Hope you feel better.” I wave to Irene and back away toward the doorway.

“Thank you, Mona,” Irene says, and then coughs, wincing as her body jolts.

Lana rushes over to her side. “Let me ask for more painkillers. Here, lie back down. Want me to change the channel? You likeFrasier, don’t you?”

“Fuck Frasier.” Irene lets out a raspy cough.

Fair enough, I think as I make my way into the hall.

“And his brother Niles too.”

Drama, Diner, and a Deal

When I get back to my apartment, I brace for my new roommate to greet me with a tail-wagging party, but I open the door and—

Fluff.

Everywhere.

My apartment looks like an exploded snow globe.

There are little clouds of stuffing on the rug, on the couch, floating midair. Alice looks like she’s been pacing her bowl for some time, unimpressed.

I follow the trail all the way to its source: One of my navy throw pillows that literally came with the couch has been torn to shreds.

And there, next to the scene of the crime, is Ernest. Fluff in his beard. Guilt in his eyes.

He’s hunched like a tiny gargoyle, just staring.