CHAPTER 3
1436 Words
CHAPTER 3
ARJUN
At exactly 8:30, Mark arrives with coffee and doughnuts.
I meet him in the lobby, and we sit and wait for the movers to arrive.
“Damn man, this place is awesome.”
I nod, rubbing my back.
I’d slept on an air mattress last night, and they are not as comfortable as they look.
Mark raises an eyebrow at me.
“You good?”
I smile stiffly
“Never been better.”
He gets up and walks around a bit taking in the space.
I just get comfortable on the sofa, resting my head back.
It doesn’t take long for the movers to arrive.
One of them walks up to me.
Big, strong. Clipboard in hand
“Mr. Raj?”
“Yeah?”
He hands me the clipboard.
I skim through the inventory, sign at the bottom and hand the clipboard back.
“Follow me.”
I lead them to the elevator.
Mark stands beside me
“I still think you’re crazy for renting this place, by the way.”
I push the button
“It’s a really nice place.”
We stepped into the elevator and I pushed the button to take us to the penthouse floor.
“Yeah, but you could have bought some other place.”
“And let little miss Manhattan up there get her way? Hard pass. I live to make girls like her miserable.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs.
“You’re projecting; she can’t be as bad as you’re imagining.”
“She moved in yesterday and left all the boxes and bubble wrap everywhere.” I stepped closer to him. “Then she proceeded to fall asleep on a pile of bubble wrap after stuffing her face with KFC. Like what sane adult cannot clean up after themselves.”
The elevator doors slide open and I step out first. Mark steps out after me, the movers following behind him.
“Maybe she was just tired. Moving is hard.”
I press the access fob against the reader. The lock beeps as the door unlocks.
“Maybe she’s a spoiled princess who can’t function without buying help.
I open the door and step in.
I freeze on the spot. She cleaned up; there were no boxes, no bubble wrap, no KFC paper bag. Just a clean, empty apartment. I was only gone for thirty minutes and I could swear the place was still a mess when I left.
Mark steps past me.
“Would you look at that, she cleaned.”
He sniffs the air, taking multiple dramatic whiffs.
“Do you smell that?”
I roll my eyes and fold my arms.
“Smell what?”
“Smells like you were wrong about her.”
He turns and walks into the kitchen with a smug grin on his face.
I turn to the movers and start directing them to where each box goes.
I’d already labeled them, but I like to be extra thorough.
Mark came out of the kitchen nodding his head.
"You know..."
"What?"
"This could be worse."
I look at him.
"You've seen the apartment for less than thirty seconds."
"I'm talking about your roommate."
"You haven’t even met her."
He shrugs and walks towards the hallway.
"Fair."
I pick up another box.
"My room's on the right."
"I figured."
He points towards Brie’s door.
The door is covered with fur, like from the top to the bottom, then a bedazzled board with her name on it at the top center of the door.
What is she, five?
The movers carried the larger boxes down the hallway while Mark followed me into the bedroom.
Unlike the rest of the apartment, this room was untouched, nothing but my air mattress lying in the center.
The movers assembled the bed while I unpacked.
Everything had a place.
Everything went exactly where it belonged.
Mark leaned against the doorway.
"That's it?"
I look up.
"What?"
"That's... all you're unpacking?"
"I packed efficiently."
"You packed like you're checking into a hotel."
"I packed what I needed."
He shakes his head.
"I worry about you."
"I've noticed."
By the time the movers finished assembling the bed, I'd already arranged my wardrobe.
Dark shirts together.
White shirts together.
Ties are organized by color.
Shoes lined perfectly beneath them.
Mark stares inside my closet.
"I suddenly understand why people call you terrifying."
I shut the wardrobe doors.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You would."
The office took less than twenty minutes.
Desk, laptop, monitor, printer, files.
Done.
No decorations.
No unnecessary clutter.
Just enough to work.
Exactly how I liked it.
I sign the necessary documents and the movers leave.
Mark looks around.
"You seriously don't believe in personality, do you?"
"I have one."
"I'm looking for evidence."
He walks out of the study and I follow him towards the kitchen.
"You'll be looking for a while."
He laughs again. Sitting on a stool
I honestly don’t understand why everything amuses him.
I took my phone and door dashed us some breakfast.
Mark started tapping his fingers on the table.
"So..."
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to ask."
"I do."
"How?"
"You always ask the same questions."
"Fine."
He leans back.
"So how does this work?"
"We stay out of each other's way."
"And if you don't?"
"We have rules."
His eyebrows shoot up.
"...Rules?"
I unlock my phone.
"She insisted."
"I did not insist," comes a voice from the hallway.
Both of us turn.
Brie stands there wearing an oversized cream sweatshirt and fluffy socks.
Her hair in a messy bun and a mug almost as big as her face in her hands.
She looks...different.
She looks normal, regular, in fact.
"I suggested," she corrects, taking a seat on a stool.
"You listed seven."
"They were reasonable."
Mark looks between us.
"You actually made rules?"
"Yes," we answer at the same time.
"...Interesting."
Brie smiles brightly.
"I like him. What’s he called?"
Mark grins. Taking her hand and planting a kiss on the back of it.
"The name's Mark, darling."
She giggles, like she actually giggles.
"Sabrina, but you can call me Brie,"
“Ahh, a lovely name, for a lovely lady.”
I look between them.
“You are both insane.”
Brie rolls her eyes and looks around the apartment.
Then at the unopened boxes stacked beside the wall.
Then back at me.
"So."
"No."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say."
"I have a fairly accurate guess."
She smiles.
"Tomorrow."
"No."
"We're going furniture shopping."
"I have work."
"So do I."
"I have meetings."
"So reschedule them."
"I can't."
She folded her arms.
“We were supposed to go today, but I am a very considerate person, so I'll let you use today to clear your schedule for tomorrow.”
“It doesn’t work like that, I can’t just make and unmake plans.”
"You're the CEO."
"Exactly."
"You’re not going to get fired, you know."
"NO!!."
“Mark?”
The doorbell rings at that very moment...
“Oops, saved by the bell.”
He walked out hurriedly.
Traitor
Brie points towards the living room.
"We're living in a big ass luxury penthouse."
"So…."
"It currently looks like a shipping warehouse."
“It’s not that bad.”
"I refuse."
"You refuse what?"
"To spend another night surrounded by cardboard."
"I don't see the issue."
Mark walks back in holding a large paper bag.
“Mark.” Brie cries
“Nope,” he says, walking back out.
She stares at me fiercely. Her eyes burning holes into my soul.
“You’re serious?”
“Dead ass.”
She lets out a long sigh then walks towards the door.
She stops half way there and turns back to look me dead in the eye.
“I’m leaving by 10 am tomorrow. You don’t have to come. But you better not complain about the kind of furniture I pick out alone, all by myself.”
She turns and walks into the hallway, towards her room.
I froze, thinking about what she said. Then I remember her room door
Fuck!!
"I think that was a threat."
Mark walks back in already eating a burger.
"It was."
"You going?"
"No."
He nods thoughtfully.
"You're definitely going."
I look towards the hallway.
Then at the empty living room.
Then at the stack of flattened boxes leaning against the wall.
The place does look unfinished.
"We'll see."
Mark smiles.
"You are absolutely going."
I don't answer
He hands me a burger and I unwrap it, digging in.
Because, annoyingly...
He is probably right.
- Writer
