“I brought the Shop-Vac up here. Does the same job, right?”
“It would appear so,” I said, putting my bags down on the one clean surface in the entire apartment. “Now all I have to worry about is what might crawl out of the darkness to get me in the night.”
“Yeah, well, I think there’s a box of doughnuts under the chair. You can toss those to distract it.”
“You are disgusting, you know that?” I unzipped my garment bag and laid it out on the sofa. “Where can I hang my clothes up?”
Seth stared at me blankly.
“Got some space in a closet? I need to hang these up or they wrinkle.”
“Um, right.” Seth pivoted on his heel and kicked a path to the tiny coat closet by the door. He pulled a few computer boxes out of it and bounced them into a corner. “You need me to make some space in the bathroom for your curlers and make-up?”
“Fuck you. Normal people hang their clothes up. This is the usual way in which grown-ups do things.” I bent down to look under the chair. “Are there really doughnuts under there? This is not a healthy way to live. Seriously.”
Chapter 2
“There’s a lot of apartments for rent in St. Pete,” Seth said, reading the classifieds and taking a sip of his beer.
We were in the Blue Bottle, a dumpy place done in some kind of attempt at a beach house-sea shanty motif, which ended up looking more like an Italian crab shack. Worked for me. They had the typical seaside stuff on the walls, like starfish and life preservers, but the tables were covered in checkered red and white cloths and empty mayonnaise jars with candles in them.
“No way, I hate it over there. Hell, you couldn’t get out of there fast enough, now you think I should live there? It’s too bland. I came down here for the beach, and I want to stay by the beach.”
“Too bland? You’re worried about too bland?”
“Well, yeah. I gotta’ live in a place with a little style, you know?”
“O-kay...” Seth said with a low whistle. “Dino needs a spicy apartment.”
“Stylish,” I corrected him. “Charismatic.”
“Charismatic? You’re gonna live in the place, not date it.”
The bartender brought us steamed clams and chicken wings, and we shuffled the papers around, making room for the plates. I took a sip of my drink and started in on the clams. I love any kind of seafood as long as it’s not in a condition to fight back, but I especially like food that requires a little effort to eat. I scooped one out of the shell and dipped it in butter.
“Mmm, man, these are good.” I hummed, closing my eyes to savor it.
“Yeah, they’re not too bad.” Seth slurped one into his mouth and washed it down with a drink of beer. He wiped the butter from his chin with the back of his hand.
Seth will eat anything you put in front of him, regardless of the state it’s in. I’m not even sure it has to be food. Let’s just say I wouldn’t reach in front of him to get the salt.
He bit into a chicken wing and flipped over the section of newspaper he was scanning. “Hey! Here’s something,” he said, marking the ad with a buffalo sauce fingerprint.
I took the paper from him and read out loud. “Madeira Beach. One bedroom apartment located in commercial neighborhood. No pets. No kids. No floozies. Call Adele.”
“Got enough character for you?”
“No floozies? Are they serious?” I dunked another clam and ate it, staring at the paper. “If these are Bible nuts, I wouldn’t be able to take it.”
“Call the number,” Seth said.
I pulled my cellphone from my pants pocket and flipped it open, checking the ad as I dialed. The phone rang several times, and I wondered if I was going to get anyone when there was finally an answer.
“Yes?” came the feeble voice of an old lady.
“Ah, hello, ma’am. Would I be speaking to Adele?”
“No. That’s my sister-in-law.” Her words were well formed and clipped at the end. “I’ll get her.”
I could hear her set the phone down and muffled voices in the background.
“Yeah, what can I do for you?” This voice was deep and gravelly, and you could just about hear the lung cancer over the line. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind this woman was a heavy smoker and probably had been since prohibition.
“You have an apartment for rent?” I asked. “I’m lookin’ at your ad here in yesterday’s paper.”
“You got pets?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. And I don’t have kids, and I am most definitely not a floozy.”
“You date ’em?”
“Nope, and I’m not really in the market for a roommate at the moment, if that’s what you’re getting at.” The broad was blunt, but I kind of liked her. She sounded like she didn’t take shit from anybody, and I doubted I’d have to worry about any Bible thumping going on.
“The apartment is on the second floor, six hundred a month, plus utilities. We don’t put up with late payers, loud tenants, or people who mess up the place. And, you gotta’ pay a three hundred dollar deposit and a month’s rent up front.”
“What about parking?” I asked. Seth nodded his approval.
“There’s parking in the front, off the street.”
“Sounds good. When can I come see it?”
“Anytime, I guess,” she said. “We’ll be around until tomorrow afternoon at least. You can come tonight if you don’t make it too late.”
“Tomorrow sounds great. What’s the address? I could be there around ten if that works for you.”
“That’d be fine. Nine twenty-seven First Street. Up past the Winn Dixie.”
“Sure, I know the area. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks.”
She hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I put mine away and took a sip of my drink. It sounded promising. Madeira Beach is crammed into about two square miles, in the middle of a long string of other little beach towns, and the area she mentioned was convenient to everything.
“Well?” Seth asked, sucking the last bits of meat off a chicken bone.
I shrugged. “The price is right. Location might not be bad. You want to check it out with me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
* * * *
“I
