Authors: Jack J. Lee
B motioned for the waiter. “I know you have more questions but you’re running out of time. Start looking on KSL.com for rooms to rent in homes. It has a better selection than Craig’s List in Salt Lake City. This restaurant is right at the mouth of Parley’s Canyon so the Sugar House area is probably the best place to search. Your truck is parked outside.
“Now that you’re a paladin, you have powers. With great power comes great pain in the ass regulations. We’re running out of time. Listen up, not knowing your powers won’t kill you, not knowing these four limitations could. First, you gotta tell the truth. The lies you told earlier today at 24 Hour Fitness when you denied being Victor Paladin will be the last ones you’ll ever tell. For a couple more days, you’ll be able to tell white lies but after that, nada. Second, even though officially you’re still human, you have no choice but to act like Mr. Uptight Hero. Third, you can kiss a girl but only if you love her. Fourth, no sex—with or without a partner—outside of marriage. It’s a bummer dude; the sin of Onan is against regulations. In the near future, you’ll have to stop flogging the Pharisee.
“Of course Vic, you gotta prioritize. First, make sure you’re going to survive the night, and then, if I were you, I’d hole up in a private room with a box of Kleenex and some good lotion—take the time to make a proper farewell.” The asshole was laughing so hard he could barely talk. “Get out of here. I’ll take care of the check.”
Chapter 4: Home Sweet Home
My truck was easy to find. When I climbed in, I took the time to mull things over. Only my friends are allowed to laugh at me. B and I weren’t friends. I took my fury and bottled it, knowing soon enough I’d be able to let it out. B was right, I needed to prioritize. He didn’t have a reason to lie about the trolls. I had monsters to kill. I didn’t have time to think about my sex life.
During our conversation, I had been stuck by the difference between the way B talked and the way he dressed. A person’s appearance almost always reflects his or her personality. The way a woman styles her hair and puts on makeup will often tell you how she decorates her home. The clothes a man wears should indicate if he’s going to use slang. If I hadn’t been able to see B, just hear his voice, I would have pictured a slob about fifty pounds overweight who got dates because he was funny—despite, not because of his looks. He should have been dressed in a food splattered concert T-shirt and jeans.
B looked like a Hollywood version of a prince. He didn’t have a single blemish. Every hair was in its place. He was wearing a spotless suit that looked like it had been cut by a bespoke tailor—the kind used by European royalty. His double Windsor was so perfectly tied it should have been a clip-on (I checked; it wasn’t). All the women and most of the men in the restaurant were stealing glances at him. They were trying to figure out what kind of celebrity he was. B’s looks only made sense if it was a uniform.
I grew up in an orphanage and served time in juvie and prison. I’ve lived with scum and have been exposed to good, bad, and indifferent guardians. I heard his laughter while I fried. I remembered B’s expression while he bitch slapped me into unconsciousness. He hadn’t acted like a sorrowful caretaker reluctantly disciplining a protégé; he looked like a thug who liked causing pain.
Over dinner B had been friendly and genial. He had been trying to bill himself as a guy who was looking out for my best interests. I’ve had people try to play me for most of my life. He’d been different while kicking my ass; that was his real self. He liked causing pain and humiliation.
The troll wasn’t the first monster I’ve killed. I know monsters; the most effective are funny and charming. Their preferred prey is the vulnerable. Given the choice, I’d bet B wouldn’t have looked like a perfectly coifed aristocrat; he would have chosen to look dangerous—a shaved head, piercings, and tattoos. I heard regret in his voice when he talked about his inability to have sex. If he had the option, he would choose rape over seduction.
B said I had an hour-and-a-half to find a home with a threshold. I decided I believed him. He didn’t have anything to gain by lying about this. I followed his advice and got on KSL.com. There were four homes nearby that fit his requirements. When I called, three of the owners were home and were willing to show me the rooms this evening. All of the homes were close to the University of Utah.
I pulled up to the closest house. Most of the grass in the front lawn was dead. A rusting shovel and a rake lay next to the driveway. It looked like they hadn’t been moved in months. I pulled up in the driveway behind a perfectly waxed, spotless red Corvette.
There was no way this house had a threshold. B said I no longer had the ability to lie. I needed to find out if this was true. I had to learn the extent of my limitations. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told the truth about my name, profession, or plans. I needed to test how I was going to play it when I actually found a room I wanted to rent.
When I rang the doorbell, a kid about eighteen with pimples and a dangly skull earring opened the door. “Hey man, you here for the room?”
“Yeah. I’m Victor Paladin.” Shit! I had meant to say John Evans.
“Come on in. I’m Brody Minor. The room is in the basement. Follow me.”
Brody led me through the house. The inside of the house was a perfect mirror to the outside. An empty pizza box lay on the couch in the living room. The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes.
“You lived here long?”
“Almost a year, I’m a film major at the U. My parents bought this house, and we’re renting out rooms to help pay for the mortgage.” Brody opened the door to the basement room. There was water damage on the drywall under the window and the room smelled like mold. “What do you think?”
“Well, I need to know a few more things before I can make a decision.” I felt a wave of nausea. I felt upchuck rise. I guess what I had said constituted a lie.
“You okay, man?”
I swallowed the vomit that reached my mouth. “Yeah, I got a stomach condition. Don’t worry, it’s not catching. Would it be a problem if I paid with checks with a different name than mine? I’ve got a legal situation where I need to pay all my bills under the name of John Evans.” I prepared to run to the bathroom, but this time I didn’t get nauseated.
“So, you want the room then?”
“I’ve got a few other rooms I want to check out. Let me get back to you.” Even though I planned on calling him back, I barely made it to the bathroom. Everything I’d eaten at the Indian restaurant came up. I think Brody was as happy to see me leave as I was to get out of there.
The next house I drove up to looked like a clone of Brody’s. I drove on. I had forty-five minutes left to sundown. If this last house in the Harvard/Yale neighborhood didn’t pan out I needed to look for rooms in the Avenues. B said that the best thresholds were in homes where multiple generations had lived. I needed to stay in older neighborhoods.
According to KSL.com, the average rent for single rooms in Salt Lake was around four hundred dollars per month. Nicer neighborhoods like Sugar House, close to the University of Utah, went for around four-fifty. The owner of the next house wanted almost double. The increased price could mean something good.
I turned on my phone’s GPS app and followed the voice instructions to the house. My mind bounced like a grasshopper from topic to topic. I needed an independent source of information. Where would I even start? If B was telling the truth and he was my guardian angel, was he always watching me? Or was there ever a time when he wasn’t watching me? How was I going to take out the rest of the trolls? Would I have backup?
I drove on autopilot. I was lost in thought until my GPS announced, “You have arrived at your destination.” Mature trees canopied the street. The sun was lying low in the sky and light dappled the house and yard. When it had been built, at least a century ago, the house I was looking at would have been called a mansion. It was a two story, red brick home with a copper roof and a detached two car garage. The lot had to be close to an acre. It was the largest house on the street. Unlike the previous homes I had looked at, the yard was immaculate.
As I got out, I saw a figure in the shadows working on a flower bed at the far corner of the house. My gut told me that this house had a threshold. I needed to make a good impression. The evening temperature was cool so my long sleeved shirt now made sense. I was wearing the same business casual clothing I had on when I got my ass kicked by B. He was a one stop repair shop; not only had I been healed, my clothes had been cleaned and repaired.
My hair style is so common it’s called a ‘regular cut’. I was lucky enough to have been born with the most common hair and eye color in the U.S. In appearance, in almost every way, I looked average. I concentrated on looking as normal and harmless as possible.
The gardener strode confidently toward me wearing a tank top and shorts. A light sheen of sweat on her face mixed with the dirt on her gardening gloves revealed she hadn’t been just playing at working in the yard. “Hi, I’m Mina Swenson. Are you here about the room?”
Every woman who reveals this much cleavage is testing every man she meets. Stare at the goods, you’re a creep; don’t notice, you’re gay. The only right response is to make eye contact but to make sure she knows you’re struggling.
I planned to meet her eyes with an innocent smile of appreciation. I am neither ugly nor good looking, most of the time I don’t get a second look. I like it that way. I like being in control, women rarely move me. Attraction is a funny thing. Usually, it’s predictable, but sometimes lightning strikes. When I met her eyes, I felt a wave of desire. Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. Women I want are rare. My heart sank. I didn’t need this distraction.
I can usually control my face and emotions. This wasn’t a usual day. I was barely keeping it together. I realized I was showing my feelings when Mina started to look concerned. Gorgeous blonde, blue eyed women aren’t used to men frowning at them. “Yes, I am. I’m Victor. I’m really hoping your room is as great as the outside of the house and yard. It’s been a long day and I’d really like to find a place.”
Mina stopped looking worried and gave me a slow smile. “Well, I’m a little bit biased but I think the space I’m renting is a steal even at the price. It was originally designed as a live-in servant’s quarters. You’ll have your own bathroom and small kitchen. The only thing that will be shared is the entrance way which is why the place is priced like it’s a separate apartment. Let me put these tools away and I’ll show you the place.” She turned and walked toward the garage. She looked good from that direction, too.
She stepped quickly back toward me. The driveway expanded into a circle in front of the garage. Mina pointed to a spot, “You can park here. The neighborhood is pretty strict about parking in the street. My younger sister and brother both drive and they also park in the circle. I’m the only one who gets to park in the garage. It’s too packed with stuff to fit more than one car.”
She led me to the back door of the house which led to the kitchen. Just inside was a small stairway that led up two stories into the attic. As she walked up, she told me the house had been built by her grandfather. She pointed out all the recent renovations including the high tech modern radiant heaters and high flow air-conditioning vents. Mina clearly loved this house. The rental was a small bedroom with a twin bed, a full bath, and a cubby hole of a kitchen.
“Mina, this is perfect. I’d like to give you a check for the first two months rent now, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to move in tonight. I can give you my information including my last few landlords so you can do a credit and background check now.”
She looked hesitant. I gave her my best ‘oh, please pity me’ look and let a barely noticeable catch creep into my voice. “Well, I’ve been camping in my truck and living in hotels for longer than I want and you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. For a while now, I’ve been moving from town to town every few months because of my job. That career seems to be over. I’ve had a lot of changes hit me all at once and I’d like to get things stabilized. It’d really help a lot if I knew I had a place.”
Mina still looked undecided. I gave her my best little boy lost smile. I knew I had her when she grinned back. “Well, if you give me your info now, I guess it wouldn’t be a problem for you to move in immediately.” She gave me a mock stern stare. “You better pass the background check.”
“Mina, I have the conscience of an angel; I’ll pass any background check you’ve got. John Evans is the name on all my documentation, but I go by Vic. Here is my Indiana driver’s license and a credit card. I’ve listed my social security number and the contact information of my last three landlords on this sheet. So if you don’t mind, I’ll move my stuff while you look me up.” Quickly, before she could change her mind, I went down to my truck to get my bags. I had gargled with tap water after I had upchucked at Brody’s place, but I hadn’t brushed my teeth. Even though I smelled and looked ‘magically’ clean, I didn’t feel clean. I desperately wanted a shower.
I had pulled my truck into the designated parking spot in the back and was pulling my two pieces of luggage out when a BMW Mini pulled up behind me. A strawberry blond in a cheerleader’s uniform got out. She looked about sixteen.
“Hi, are you the new renter?”
“Yeah, my name is Vic.”
“I’m Andi, nice to meet you.” As I shook her hand, I could see Andi’s eyes sizing me up with approval. To be fair, it may have been because she wasn’t covered with sweat and dirt but she was better looking than her sister. Like I said, I’m an average looking guy; the last thing I needed was a jailbait nymphomaniac. I didn’t try to hide the glumness on my face and in my voice as I replied, “Nice to meet you, too.” I saw shock on Andi’s face as I abruptly turned away and went up to my room.