Authors: BL Miller
To say that Rose lived in abject poverty would have been kind. The first room Veronica entered was most likely the living room, although no one would have known from the furniture. A lawn chair missing several strips sat in the middle of the room, books marked "Albany Public Library" piled up next to it. That was the extent of the furnishings. Not a single picture or poster hung on the walls. Not that a dozen pictures would have made a difference. The old, crumbly plaster was missing in several places, showing the dried out slats beneath. The ceiling was in a similar state of disrepair. Yellowed water stains formed jagged circles and in several places it sagged noticeably. Veronica doubted it would be long before the ceiling began to cave in. The apartment was extremely cool and a quick check of the thermostat showed why. Dust had settled on the dial, indicating that the temperature hadn't been changed in quite some time. It was set at 60 but with the drafts coming from the old windows the room felt more like fifty. She set her attaché
down on the rickety lawn chair, then reached into her pocket and removed the two letters that she had taken from Rose's mailbox. The first was nothing more than junk mail announcing that if the winning number matched the one in the envelope that "Dose Graydon" would be the winner of eleven million dollars. The other letter was a yellow envelope from the power company. Although she knew she shouldn't, Veronica slipped one well manicured fingernail under the corner and opened it. As she had suspected, it was a disconnection notice. She tucked that one back in her pocket and headed for the bedroom, hoping to find an address book or something that would indicate whom she should notify that the young woman was in the hospital.
The bedroom was just as revealing as the living room. A small rollaway bed was pushed up against the wall and a fold up chair served as a makeshift dresser. Two pairs of jeans that had long ago seen better days and equally worn sweatshirts made up the small pile of clothes along with a few pairs of socks looking more like Swiss cheese than footwear. A thorough search, not that it took much effort, failed to reveal any address books or other personal items. Not one letter from a friend, no pictures, nothing that indicated that Rose knew anyone…or that anyone knew Rose.
The bathroom was just another depressing stop on Veronica's tour. The medicine cabinet contained one nearly empty stick of deodorant and a flattened down tube of toothpaste, both sporting the Money Slasher brand name. Two tampons sat on the back of the toilet along with a half-empty roll of toilet paper. A worn towel was draped over the edge of the tub and three pairs of tattered underwear hung over the shower rod. "How do you live like this?" she asked aloud as she turned to leave the small bathroom. As she did, she noticed the one item that she had previously missed before. Sandwiched between the sink and the wall was a small litter box.
"Well at least you're not alone." As if on cue, an orange and white kitten no more than four months old came scampering into the bathroom, yowling quite loudly to announce its presence.
"Hello there."
"Mrrow!" Veronica leaned down to pet it but the cat took off toward the kitchen. "Come here. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Mrrow!" The cat remained at the entrance to the kitchen, refusing to come any closer. "Fine, be that way, see if I give a shit." She walked past the kitty and entered the kitchen, wishing quickly that she hadn't.
The stove was an old gas model that probably was quite efficient back in her grandmother's day. A small frying pan and pot sat on top while a well used cookie sheet rested inside the oven. She opened one drawer and took a step back as several roaches scampered about, trying to sneak back into the darkness. She shut the drawer quickly, but not before noticing the one mismatched set of silverware that it contained. The refrigerator contained a plastic milk bottle that had been refilled with water, half a jar of mayonnaise, a stick of margarine, and an almost empty bottle of ketchup. When Veronica reached for the cupboard door, her legs were quickly encircled by the anxious cat.
"Meow, meow, mrrrow?" Sure enough, the cupboard held within it one half empty box of Money Slasher cat food and a box of elbow macaroni. "Mrrow, meow?"
"Okay, okay, I get the hint," she said, pulling the box out. The orange and white cat scrambled over to her bowl, waiting none too patiently for the tall human to feed her. "How much do cats your size eat, anyway?"
"Mrrow?"
"Never mind." She poured the dry food into the bowl until it reached the brim. "There, that should keep you for a while." She looked at the water dish. "I suppose you'd like some fresh water too, your majesty?" The cat was too busy chowing down to answer. Veronica took the bowl to the sink and dumped the remaining water before turning the tap on. A horrid clunking sound came from the pipes and she quickly shut it off. "Looks like you get the water from the fridge." She set the bowl on the floor next to the food dish and was about to continue her search when she heard pounding on the door.
"Grayson, I know you're in there. I heard you turn the water on," the angry voice on the other side of the door yelled. "It's the third already and I want my fucking rent money now!" He pounded again. "God Dammit, I'm sick of your whining about your tiny paycheck. If you couldn't afford this place then you never should have moved in here…god damn piece of trash!"
The door flung open to reveal a portly man who reeked of alcohol despite the early morning hour. "Who the fuck are you? I told her that roommates cost extra."
"How much does she owe you?" Veronica queried, trying very hard to keep her temper in check.
"Four fifty. Six if I find out you're living here too," he growled. "So who the fuck are you?"
Veronica didn't answer, instead walking over to the lawn chair and rummaging through her attaché until she found her checkbook. "What's your name?"
"What's it matter to you?"
"If you want to be paid for the rent, I need a name to write on the check…or should I just fill in the word asshole?"
"I don't take fucking checks. They always bounce."
"I guarantee this one won't bounce. Give me a name."
"Cecil Romano, but I'm not taking any fucking check."
"Have you heard of the Cartwright Corporation?" She asked while filling in the various parts of the check.
"Of course, who hasn't."
"Well, I'm Veronica Cartwright. This check is from my personal account. If you want your rent money I suggest you take this." She handed over the check. Cecil looked at it carefully, certain that it was a trick.
"I'll need ID."
"Fine. Would you like to see my driver's license or would any major credit card do?" She asked, reaching into the attaché and pulling out her wallet. At that moment the orange and white kitty decided to come out and see what all the fuss was about.
"What the fuck is that?"
"Looks like a cat to me. Tell me, are you capable of forming a complete sentence without the word fuck in it?"
"I told her no pets. No pets means no fucking pets. No pets, no roommates, no…whatever the fuck you are." He folded up the check and stuffed it in his pocket. "I've had it. She bitches about everything from a little noise in the pipes to wanting to paint the walls and now this. When you see the little bitch you tell her that I want her out of here by the end of the week. She and that flea ridden thing can go live in the snowbank for all I care."
"Fine. I'll see to it that her things are moved out of here immediately. I assume you own the hundred year old stove and fridge?"
"God damn right I own them. I own that bed she sleeps in too. She was supposed to buy it from me for fifty bucks but I haven't seen it yet."
"Well, now you won't. You can keep it." She tucked her wallet and checkbook back into her case. "Is there anything else or do you feel the need to continue to assault me with your stinking breath?"
"I don't give a fuck who you are, you can't come in my house and talk to me that way," he snarled. "Just make sure the place is in the same condition as when she moved in or she doesn't get her security back."
"I doubt you'd give it back anyway," Veronica countered. "After all, you are the epitome of a slum lord."
"You'd better take that damn cat with you when you leave or I'll wring its fucking neck and throw it out in the snowbank." He flung the door open, letting the cold air mix with the cool air already inside the apartment. "And make sure she forwards her fucking mail," he growled as he slammed the door.
Veronica turned and rubbed her forehead. "Meow?"
"Well, I guess I have company for a few days, huh?" She said, sitting down on the bare floor next to the cat. "Wish I knew your name. It'd be much easier than calling you 'cat' all the time."
"Mrrow," the kitty replied, climbing onto the raven haired woman's lap. Veronica allowed the purring feline to remain for a few minutes while she tried to think through what just happened. She had only meant to find out who to contact to let them know that Rose was hurt and ended up getting the young woman evicted. Not that it was much of a loss, considering the conditions she was living in. No matter, she decided. Her cousin Danielle, ran Cartwright Properties, surely there was an affordable apartment available that they could put Rose into. "Something with real walls," she muttered, looking at a dinner plate sized hole in the opposite wall. "Okay cat, time to move." The kitty objected vocally but finally acquiesced when the tall human stood up. "Let's get your momma's things together and get you out of here and into someplace warmer."
Moving Rose's belongings was easy, especially when Veronica decided that the only things that had to leave the decrepit apartment were the library books and the checkbook she found in the kitchen drawer. The worn out clothes, the useless furniture…she decided that for four hundred fifty bucks Cecil could clean them out himself. Tucking the checkbook into her attaché, the library books under her arm, and the cat inside her jacket, Veronica left the apartment, not bothering to lock the door.
*********
Rose opened her eyes and looked around, groaning at both the pain and the realization of where she was. A young blonde nurse looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Miss Grayson. My name is Mary." She pulled a digital thermometer out of her pocket, placed a protective sheath over the tip, and put it in Rose's mouth. "You've been in a very bad accident." She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Rose's upper arm and pressed her stethoscope against the inside of the young woman's elbow. The thermometer beeped and Mary pulled it back to check the reading.
"Fine."
"Excuse me…" Rose inhaled sharply as the nurse made a note on her chart. She felt dopey but scared at the same time. "Wha...what happened?"
"You were hit by a car last night. You're very lucky that your boss was driving by and saw you. She brought you to the hospital."
"My boss? Kim found me?"
"Oh, I don't know her name, deary. I wasn't here last night. I work the day shift." She carefully cleaned the skin around the neat row of stitches on Rose's cheek. "You were in surgery for quite a while and you're in the recovery room right now. We just need to make sure you're stabilized and then you'll be taken to your room."
"My legs?" She tried to sit up but that only served to increase the intense pain she was feeling in her lower extremities.
"Both your legs were broken. The surgeons worked for hours last night putting the bones back in place."
"It hurts." Rose lifted her head to see the stark white of full leg casts.
"They're giving you something for the pain in your IV," the nurse said. "I'll let the doctor know you're awake."
The instant the nurse left the room, Rose broke down in tears. Her face and ribs hurt but it was nothing compared to the excruciating agony her legs were in. She didn't even want to think about the hospital bill, which no doubt was increasing with every hour that she spent there. She reached over to pour herself a cup of water from the plastic pitcher on the stand next to the bed but the movement caused so much pain that she was unable to complete her task. Whatever they were giving her for the pain was also making her limbs feel extremely heavy and it didn't take long for Rose to fall back into an uneasy sleep.
*********
Veronica pulled the Mazda into her driveway and parked it next to the garage. To her great annoyance, removing the key from the ignition did not shut the engine off. Instead the blue car continued to sputter and wheeze before for a minute before finally dying. "Well, Cat. I think it's safe to say that the next place this piece of shit will go is to the junkyard."
"Mrrow?" The feline replied as she tried to climb onto the tall woman's lap.
"No no no. This isn't petting time." She tucked the cat under her arm and opened the door.
"Come on, let's see if Maria can find something in the kitchen for you to eat."
As she exited the car with the cat in tow, Veronica glanced over at her three car garage. The middle door was unlocked and through the half-moon window she saw her Porsche. She silently thanked her cousin Frank for helping her out. The cat squirmed in her grip. "Oh no you don't. I'm not running all over the neighborhood looking for you."
Ronnie opened the sliding glass door and entered into the kitchen. Once inside she set the orange and white kitty on the floor. "Maria? Maria are you here?" The keys to the blue car were tossed on the counter.
"I'm here," a voice from the living room called.
"We've got company," Veronica responded.
Maria was an older woman working on her thirtieth year with the Cartwright family and was near and dear to Veronica's heart. Jet black hair had long ago given way to a salt and pepper combination and her middle age spread made her lap perfect for whenever the young children came over. Maria walked into the kitchen. "It's not good for you to be out all night, Ronnie," she chastised. "If your mother knew…"
"I wasn't out whoring around, Maria," she responded, pleased with the shocked reaction on the older woman's face. She unzipped her jacket and tossed it over one of the stools next to the cook's island. "Do we have anything here to feed-"