Roommates Read online

She’d hung the framed cover of the only mystery book she’d published, Double Deceit. The book was about twin sisters who each blamed the other for a string of murders in their neighborhood.

  Elise wondered if Justine would think she was a cold loner for having so few photographs on her wall. She had one of Carly and her in Italy the summer after they graduated from college. Her other framed photo was of her nephew, Jeffrey. The picture had been taken a year earlier as he sat with a birthday crown perched on his blond head waiting to blow out his first candle. Jeffrey was her older sister’s son. Thank God Melissa had stepped up to the plate and produced a child by the time she was thirty. It took some of the pressure off Elise to get married and have grandkids. No one expected anything from Stan.

  “I need to eat,” Stan said. “I’m ordering a pizza.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Marge said. “Why don’t we just eat pizza here while Elise gets settled?” She reached for her purse. “Here’s my credit card. Go ahead and order.”

  Elise was hungry, too, but she didn’t want her family commandeering her apartment before she had even met Justine. “Maybe we should go out. I’d kind of like to explore the area.” She looked at Stan. “I thought you said there was a good Mexican food restaurant around here.”

  Ignoring her, he pressed the phone against his ear. “One pepperoni pizza. And another with half green peppers and olives. And a large cheese. And can you bring a six-pack of Coke with that?”

  A half an hour later a weathered-looking pizza man arrived holding several boxes and a six-pack of soda. Marge immediately began pulling Justine’s plates from the cupboard. “Everyone come grab a piece,” she called.

  “What kind would you like?” Stan asked Carly.

  “Just plain cheese for me,” she said. Stan slapped a piece of plain cheese on a plate for her, then served his father. Quite the little helper.

  “I think we should ask her if we should use those plates,” Elise said, ripping off paper towels to use instead.

  “It’s fine,” her mother said. “Aren’t you guys going to share?”

  “Yes. But we can’t take over before I’ve even met her.”

  “Oh, relax.”

  Elise put her piece of pizza on a paper towel. She took a bite and hoped that everyone ate quickly.

  “So, don’t forget to mark your calendar for Melissa’s shower,” her mother said.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Elise said. “I already have.”

  “Good. Why don’t you see if there is anything you can do to help? I’ll give you Crystal’s phone number. She might need something.”

  Knowing Crystal Klingsburg, she probably had everything planned before Melissa was even pregnant, or married, for that matter. She was Melissa’s best friend in the whole world and had been responsible for every shower, bachelorette party, and celebration in her adult life. It was a good thing she was so gung ho about event planning, because if it had been left to Elise, her sister’s bridal shower probably would’ve consisted of a six-foot sub and a case of Two Buck Chuck. Elise had never been a big planner and frankly thought showers and other such events were kind of boring. At least her sister was having a female child. Girl baby clothes were absolutely precious, and watching her open her gifts would be cute.

  “Come look at this,” her mother said, pulling her digital camera from her purse. She carried the thing with her everywhere, and no matter who you were, if you started a conversation with Marge Sawyer, you’d end up being exposed to the most recent pictures of Jeffrey. “These were taken last weekend,” she said as she began scrolling through several pictures of Jeffrey standing next to a goat. “We went to the petting zoo. And you should’ve seen him. He wasn’t afraid of any of the animals. There were all these kids crying, and he just ran right up to the goats and fed them, just like he’d had goats his whole life!”

  “Great.”

  She was looking at the fiftieth picture of Jeffrey with a goat when she heard the familiar sound of the door handle turning.

  “She’s here!” her mother whispered excitedly. Open pizza boxes and piles of crumbs covered the countertops. She quickly brushed her hands over the crumbs, letting them scatter over the tiles where they were less noticeable.

  “Hi,” Justine said to no one in particular, her eyes wandering over the room.

  Elise was about to introduce herself when Stan stood up.

  “Hey!” he said, before giving her a hug. “It’s good to see you again!”

  She looked like the pictures, but much smaller. Elise was small, too, but she felt large next to Justine. Her new roommate had a tiny boyish figure with square shoulders and a washboard stomach. She wore khaki cargo Capri pants and a black tank top with rhinestones on it. As she turned toward Elise and Carly, she flicked a tongue ring in her mouth.

  “Hi. I’m your roommate. I’m Elise. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said as they shook hands.

  “You, too. I’m glad you made it.” She glanced at Stan. “You guys look nothing alike.” It was true. Except for their big blue eyes, they looked different. Both of Elise’s siblings took after their father. However, Elise resembled Marjorie’s side of the family, the Bradford square nose and heart-shaped lips.

  “This must be Bella,” Justine said. She reached down and rubbed Bella underneath her chin. “I’m so excited that you have a dog. I’ve wanted a pet ever since I moved to San Diego. I miss my parents’ golden retriever in Nebraska.”

  As Elise introduced her to the rest of her guests, she noticed that no one in her family had taken off their shoes and had been wandering all over the apartment.

  “Would you like some pizza?” Marge asked.

  She put a small hand over her flat stomach. “Oh, no. No thanks. I’m really not hungry.”

  “How long have you lived here?” Curious Marge asked.

  “Two years now. It’s great. Downtown is five minutes away. The beaches are fifteen.”

  “And we see you have a boyfriend? A musician?” Her mother beamed. It was really time for them to go. Elise could feel a CIA inquisition coming on.

  Justine’s head cocked to the right, and her cheeks became the color of pink tulips. “Yes. He’s away in Los Angeles, recording his album.”

  “Well, that’s neat. What kind of music is it? Rock music?”

  “Yes. It’s kind of like The Beatles but more modern, a little more edgy.”

  “The Beatles?” her mother said. “I love The Beatles. Maybe we could all go to a concert sometime.”

  This type of questioning continued until her mother knew which hospital Justine was born in, that her father was a contractor, and which brand of cleaning supplies she liked best. She even busted out the digital camera. The whole time Elise stood at the sink, scrubbing their dirty plates.

  Carly had long since yawned, called it a night, and headed home. Eventually her parents said their good-byes, too. Stan was the last to leave. He stayed a little longer, helping carry her empty boxes to the Dumpster behind the apartment complex. She suspected he might actually be worried about her walking to the Dumpster alone. However, he would never admit this, being that he was the one who had arranged for her to live here.

  “I’m so sorry,” Elise said after she had closed the door behind him. “I’m sure you weren’t expecting an onslaught of questions from my parents when I moved in.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. My parents are the same exact way, only my mother would be stuffing you full of food the whole time she interrogated you.” She flicked her tongue ring. “So, do you need help with anything? Let’s see your room.”

  They stood in her doorway, surveying Elise’s setup.

  “That’s so cool that you’re a famous writer,” she said, pointing to the cover of Double Deceit. “I’m living with a celebrity.”

  Elise tossed her head back and laughed, but really inside she just felt irritated. Being called a celebrity only made her remember just how broke she was. If she were indeed famous, there was no way in hell she’d
be sharing an apartment in City Heights for five hundred dollars a month. Instead, she’d be dividing time between her beachfront property in Kauai and a five-bedroom house in La Jolla. “I wouldn’t really say I’m famous.”

  Justine stared blankly. “Why?”

  “Well, it’s not that easy. I’m pretty much scraping by to survive, and everything is so uncertain with my career.”

  “I wish I could make money doing something like that, working out of the house. Jimmy has a great job, too. He can sleep in and work whenever he wants.”

  “Creating your own schedule is definitely nice.”

  Justine thought for a moment. Depending on the angle in which she arched her eyebrows, she could either look playful or evil. She looked a little of both. “So is your book scary?”

  “I guess. Somewhat. I think it’s probably more suspenseful than scary.”

  “What are you working on now?”

  “Another mystery. This one is about a woman who gets framed for murdering the elderly woman she takes care of. It’s called Cold as Ice, and I write about the same detective as my first one. Her name is Ashley Trent.”

  Both her eyebrows shot up. “Woooow. That sounds good.”

  “Thanks.” Elise suddenly realized how gross she looked and felt. Her new roommate probably thought she was wearing L’Eau de Mustard.

  “Do you want a glass of wine?” Justine asked. “I have a bottle of red.”

  “That sounds great. Lemme just rinse off and change into sweats.”

  Elise quickly showered, then changed into her favorite pair of sweats and a tank top. When she returned to the living room, Justine was waiting on the couch. Her acrylic nails looked long on her little hands as she lit a cigarette. Even though she didn’t plan on staying long, she wondered how on earth she was going to endure the smoking.

  She sat on the love seat and reached for the glass of wine that Justine had poured for her. The television was on, but neither one paid attention as they chatted. Justine explained that she worked at a small coffee shop in North Park that her uncle owned. “It gets really boring in there during the day when it’s slow, and I have to work a lot of doubles so I can afford rent.” She petted Bella while she spoke. “It sucks, because I don’t get to spend as much time with Jimmy as I’d like on the weekends. But sometimes he’ll just come sit with me at the coffee shop all day.”

  Soon, Elise found that the conversation had turned to her love life, or lack thereof. “I had a boyfriend all through college,” she explained. “Everything was great between Tim and me. The only problem was that he had a serious case of altar phobia.”

  Justine raised an eyebrow. “Altar phobia?”

  “He was afraid of meeting me at the altar. I dated him for four years, and he kept saying he wasn’t sure about marriage. Breaking up with him was like losing my best friend, but I had to do it. I couldn’t put in another four years waiting for him to grow up. I’m not getting any younger.”

  She took a sip of her wine. “Jimmy has tons of friends. We’ll find you a boyfriend.”

  Elise was about to ask more about Jimmy’s friends when she remembered that she’d left some boxes of stationery and photo albums in the bug. If it were any other neighborhood, she’d leave them in there until morning. However, she lived in the ghetto now. “I need to get some boxes out of my car.”

  “I’ll help you. By the way, I meant to tell you that we have a storage area above our parking places. I’ll give you the key, and you can put whatever you want inside.”

  The air outside was cold and the scent of orange blossoms still heavy.

  “Yo. Justine!” A boy of about seventeen came running toward them. He wore a wife beater tank top, blue pants that hung so low they would’ve exposed his butt cheeks if it hadn’t been for his white boxers. A heavy gold chain hung from his neck. Skinny as a rail, he was only a few inches taller than she. He was out of breath when he reached them. “Is this your new roommate?”

  “Yes. I told you about her.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s right. She from Tucson.” His voice sounded like Jay-Z, but his skin was as white as Vanilla Ice.

  “Elise, this is Glorious D. He’s our next-door neighbor on my side of the building.”

  Elise extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, hey check this out. I been rhymin’ about you guys.” He began to move his head back and forth. “That’s right y’all. Glorious D’s in the house,” he said as if a huge audience awaited his performance. “Now let me holla about our hood. I gotcha back cuz we all good. Bustin’ around wit yo boxes. Lookin real fine, cuz you two’s foxes. Trickin’ out yo pad. It might get loud around here. So dontcha get mad.” He stopped. “Uh, that’s all I got right now.”

  Applause came from several open windows on the second level of the building, and Glorious D’s arms shot up like two little antennas. “Thanks y’all. I see you around,” he said before slapping Justine’s hand with a high five and heading back to his pad.

  “He makes up raps all the time,” Justine said. She seemed irritated, but Elise loved it. Having Glorious D as a neighbor would provide loads of entertainment, and as far as being interesting, he kicked ass over the yuppie couple and two small children she’d lived next door to in Tucson.

  They each carried a box back to the house. Without removing her shoes, Justine went straight for the answering machine. She pressed the button and stared at the machine as if she were waiting for something critical. They’d only been outside for about ten minutes.

  “No new messages,” the electronic lady indicated.

  The arch in her eyebrows suggested trouble.

  “Is something wrong?” Elise asked.

  “No. I just thought that Jimmy would’ve called by now.”

  Justine punched in numbers on the phone while Elise carried the boxes to her room. When she returned, Justine still hovered over the answering machine. Once again, the electronic lady told them in so many words that they were total loners for the evening.

  “I’ll check my cell phone,” Justine said.

  Elise decided to get ready for bed. While she was brushing her teeth, she was certain she heard the electronic lady saying there were no new messages for the third time that night.

  3. Hunting

  A loud, thunderous heartbeat pulsed above her, making the walls vibrate. In her semiconscious state she wondered if she had moved to a neighborhood near Camp Pendleton. But when she opened her eyes she realized that she was in City Heights. There was a helicopter circling above. This meant that there was something going on, and she might be on the news. When she threw her covers back, Bella jumped from the mattress and ran to the bedroom door.

  Entering their living room was similar to setting foot in the smoking section of a cave dwelling. At nine o’clock in the morning their apartment was as dark as a grave and as smoky as an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. It had been two days since her arrival, and she couldn’t help but wonder what her new roommate had against natural lighting and fresh air. Rarely did she open a single blind or window during the day. More intriguing, her reasons for keeping everything sealed during the day didn’t seem to involve measures of safety. At night she left everything open, inviting creeps and Peeping Toms to spy from all over City Heights. It was so bizarre.

  Elise opened the blinds and several windows before she stepped outside to let Bella go to the bathroom and to see what all the excitement was about. She could actually see the pilots inside the chopper and was tempted to say good morning.

  Her neighbor’s door flew open, and a squat Mexican woman with more facial hair than Stan and an apron tied around her waist emerged. She shook her head and mumbled something in Spanish as she surveyed the view above. Elise had never seen this particular woman. However, she’d noticed dozens of other tenants coming in and out of her apartment. She’d lost count after about twelve and was beginning to wonder how many people actually lived there. Her bedroom shared a wall with their place. For the past
two days Elise had been exposed to the kind of Spanish music that featured a lot of accordions and gave her an urge to slide a flower between her teeth and kick up her heels.

  She was about to introduce herself and ask if she knew what was going on when an authoritive male voice descended over them. “Lock all doors. And windows,” the voice barked from a loudspeaker above. “Stay. Inside. Do. Not. Open the door. For anyone. We are looking for a white male. Medium height. Wearing a red and black plaid flannel shirt. He is armed. And dangerous. I repeat. Stay inside the building.”

  Elise shot the Mexican women a thrilled look, but her neighbor was already running for safety. Elise grabbed Bella and thought about what a great story this would be. Nothing like this ever happened to her. When a convenience store across from Stan’s apartment complex caught fire and he was forced to evacuate, she felt a slight pang of envy. Or when Carly’s next-door neighbor turned out to be a white-collar criminal and was arrested right in front of her building, Elise hung on her every word, wishing she might be interviewed by a newscaster while holding grocery bags.

  She closed the door, dead-bolted it, and began sliding all the windows shut. Though exciting, she didn’t want the fugitive to choose their apartment for his hideout.

  “Good morning,” Justine said as she reached for her cigarettes on the kitchen counter.

  “There is a fugitive on the loose, wearing red plaid. And a helicopter hovering over our roof.”

  “Oh. That. I thought I heard something.”

  “We have to keep all the doors and windows locked, and we can’t leave the building.”

  She looked freshly showered and outfitted in her low-rise jeans. Her French-manicured fingertips squeezed the end of a cigarette. “They’ll catch the guy in a few minutes. They always do.” She inhaled and blew a huge cloud of smoke into the kitchen.

  “This happens frequently?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.” She walked to the kitchen and lifted a package from the counter. “Look what I got for Jimmy.” Elise watched as she opened a brown cardboard box. She imagined that Justine had bought Jimmy a vinyl record collection of his favorite bands. Or perhaps a cool vintage jacket for his next concert. Instead, Justine pulled out a series of small lighthouses, one by one. “After he gets back from L.A. I’m going to give him one of these almost every day until he leaves for his tour,” she said. “There are thirty-five lighthouses here. And they’re all hand-painted.”