I dunno when was the last time I ran as fast as now. All i know is that I can't wait to get out of this place. His place. That lousy bastard 2-timer!Urgh! As I was treading along these thoughts, I kicked a trash bin. Didn't take long before a pit bull growled nearby. Fight or Flight? It took me one look at its angry, fat, ugly face. Seconds later, I sprinted as hurriedly as my feet could carry.
Soon as I made sure I was out of the danger zone, I stopped running to catch my breath. Then, I fished out my phone to call up speed dial 1. "Jam, he did it again."
_____________________________________Chatting with my BFF helped get off the venom in my chest, and so did randomly riding a public utility bus going GOD-knows-where. But when I got off the bus, I found myself still hurt, literally and figuratively lost. Yet, I felt lighter. I saw sense. But it wasn't the only thing sighted as I was wandering along an unknown street in upstate New York. There was a leaflet.
"WANTED: BOARDER. with IQ not less than 120."
Like a reflex, an impish smile fell upon my lips. I couldn't help but appreciate the humor of the person who wrote the sign.
I read the address indicated beneath the huge letters.
"33 West 56th Street, Midtown, Manhattan. Hmmm... Let's see."
_____________________________________
Wow. That was the first word that escaped my mouth when I saw the place. It was like a condo, but sort of a compound. It had a modern, minimalistic look that suited me just fine. When I realized that Harlem Hospital Center (my workplace) was just around the corner, I knew THIS was the place for me.
So I knocked, door opens.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Jikta Evans. I'm here for this-" I greeted the surly looking tall lady, brandishing the leaflet.
"IQ?" she replied mechanically.
"132."
The expression on her face changed dramatically. She was.....laughing.
"Sorry, I love it when someone falls for that prank. I'm Issa. Come inside, so you can meet the whole gang." she said beckoning me forwards.Issa led me to the humongous sitting room.
"So, you were bluffing about the whole IQ requirement?" I asked.
"Uh, yeah. I mean, who would want a housemate who can't see through that kind of humor? WE sure can't."
I smiled at her. "You don't necessarily admit scientists, you just don't want idiots.""Right off the bat, Jitka. Wait, I gotta round up the others. They love this part of finding housemates, interrogation. I mean, interview" Without warning, Issa pushed a button on the wall and called through a speakerphone:"C'mon out fellas! We've got a suspect to fry!"
"Uh, so you guys are gonna interview me, like.. right now?"
"Yeah, why not? Good for you, its Sunday today so we're almost complete in attendance."
"Complete in attendance, so how many of you are residing here?"
"Well, 11. You could be the last addition and then its a full house!"
"ELEVEN?" I tried to hide the surprise in my voice.
"Uhuh. Lots of people. Its riot in here. But the place is big. Sometimes, we don't eve get to see each other everyday. South wing, North wing. That kind of stuff. And our schedules don't match..."
I heard the clattering of footfalls and cacophony of voices coming our way.
"Another chick?" A guy blurted soon as he laid eyes on me. He didn't sound disappointed nor exhilarated. He trudged behind me, leaning against the wall. He was sipping his coffee, his towel hanging on his naked shoulder. It wasn't only his shoulder, but his whole torso was stark bare. Flaunting his abs.
The rest filed all over the room.
"Yeah, Mel. Evens the male-female ratio. Perfect, right? Well everyone, this is Jitka. She's a Doctor."
"Specialty?" someone threw a question in a business-like tone.
"Cardiology."
"Hearts.Hmm. Can you fix mine?" He asked again.
"Only if its pathologically inflicted."
"I hate it when hospital people use their medical jargon.""He's rob. IT specialist." Issa quipped.
"Score's even. I'm low tech. I speak no computer lingo." I admitted.
"Fair enough," he said approvingly.
"No derogatory criminal records?" another interrogator asked.
The question was so blunt I blinked before answering. "Clean as a bond sheet."
"How many speed tickets this year?" Mel pressed on.
"Four."
"DUI?"
"None. I'm not alcoholic, narcotic nor a psychopath."
He shrugged, seemingly unsatisfied."I'll check police records." He exited.
"Mel Darrell Grant. He's a Lawyer." Issa added.
"So that explains the questions," was all I said.
"He's got another important occupation aside from being a brilliant prosecutor, too." A female said.
"What is that?"
"He's a full time jerk, as well. So don't sweat on it." she supplied.
"I won't." I smiled.
"This is Rhea Lanchester. Our fancy lady Pilot." Issa bragged.
"Iz, drop the lady adjective. Pilots are pilots. Take it as it is." Rhea said.
"Are we gonna start battling over the supremacy of the male over the female specie again?" a man mocked.
The females seem to have formed a coalition, they all looked daggers at the guy.
"Cyrus Larks. Before they recruit you to their amazonian sorority, I'm gonna go. Coz we're outnumbered here, so..." he pointed out and traversed that way.
"For that, I'm gonna root for you, before another Adam shows up and we will be the ones outnumbered," a gal swore. "Ember. Columnist."
"Ow."
"She writes for New York Times." Issa added.
"Ember? Are you Gracette Ember Prince?" I exclaimed.
"Yeah. Want some autograph? I've got a pen here somewhere," she humored, pretending to rummage through her pockets.
"Wow, really? I read your column every weekends before I go out to buy some book or see a movie." I said earnestly.
Ember seems to have realized I wasn't fooling with her, she blushed. She beamed at me. "I'm not the celebrity here though."
"Really? Who?"
"The one sitting beside you." A female answered.
I turned to Issa.
"She's kidding." Issa declared.
"Don't you recognize her? C'mon, Jitka." Ember challenged.
I surveyed Issa instantly... Then it hit me. "Oh, you're the girl on that Revlon billboard in downtown Manhattan! Gosh, I am so dense."
"No, its my doppelganger. And for the record, I hate that picture. The contacts were so gray, I'm scared of my own face." Issa replied.
"Small price for fame." someone retorted.
"Speaking for yourself, June?" Issa, shot back." Rhea, tell me who's the youngest architect to build a multi-billion dollar skyscraper in NYC?"
"Ring the alarms and grab the red carpet....Please welcome, Ms. June Torrence." Rhea announced theatrically.
"Hey, stop embarrassing yourself, Rhey..." June said. Her phone rang. "Oops. Boss. Gotta go."
"Yeah, go ahead. If its another project, I'm so gonna kill you if you don't throw a party." Ember threatened.
June chuckled before disappearing.
"Where are the others?" Rhea sounded.
"In their cells. Well, Cynthia, Miike, Mel, Bless-"
"Let me guess, SNOOZING?" Issa cut off Ember's ranting.
"No surprise. He's like a hibernating armadillo. Cliff's in San Francisco." Ember continued.
"Didn't see him leave." Rob stated.
"He left early this morning. Emergency business trip." Ember answered.
"So, Jit. Can I call you Jit?" Issa asked.
"Sure."
"Want a tour?
"Can't wait."
Issa lead the way, with me, Ember and Rhea following on her wake. The boys disappeared after Blessed quipped about watching a Lakers Versus Bulls game.
"Sorry, Jit. Only 1 vacancy. East Wing." Issa and the others continued to chat while I half listened to their conversation. My eyes scanned the interiors. The ceiling was high, the glass sleek, the ambiance cozy.Issa recaptured my whole attention when she opened the last door to the right.
"Well, here it goes.."
I surveyed the room, drinking in the beauty of the space. I knew their eyes were all on me. But i couldn't care less. If there was love at first sight, it was what happened to me and this room.
"What do you say?" Ember asked.
"When can i move in?" I turned back to the crowd behind me.
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