Chapter 1

Decent, affordable apartments in our fair city are incredibly hard to come by, especially for people in my income bracket, i.e., dirt poor. You take what you can get and feel thankful for it. I didn't even bother looking in the more upscale areas of town like around the park where even the doormen look down their noses at you like they're attached at the hip to the upper crust of society.

What I finally settled on was an old building near lower downtown that left a lot to be desired in the esthetics department but at least it wasn't slummy. When I signed the one-year lease, it was for a slightly larger apartment on the second floor and I was actually in the process of moving in when the building super saw me carrying in my cello case. He got this 'Oh crap!' look on his face and asked, "You planning on playing that thing a lot?"

I've dealt with this kind of attitude before and I wasn't about to let him intimidate me. "Uh, no, this is actually a cache of weapons that I'm hiding for some terrorist friends of mine. Of COURSE I'm planning to play it a lot! Don't you think it'd be a criminal waste of eleven thousand dollars to leave it sitting in the corner to accumulate dust?"

He didn't appreciate my sarcasm. "Hey, ain't no need to get your shorts all twisted up! I'm just saying there's folks next door to you that work nights and sleep during the day. I don't wanna be getting any complaints from them about you sawin' away on that thing at all hours and keepin' 'em awake."

"Well see, that's the thing about musical instruments; you need to play them from time to time to be any good at it. What do you suggest, that I practice out on the sidewalk with a tin cup beside me for people to toss coins into?"

He raised his hands palm out and shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I don't give a tinker's dam when or where you play it as long as I don't get complaints. Maybe you didn't read the fine print about it bein' a violation of your lease if you make too much noise. That's grounds for eviction, you know."

"Jeez, man, I haven't even finished moving in and already you're threatening to kick me out! Give me a break, will ya?"

He crossed his arms, grunted something unintelligible and looked at the cello case for a few seconds, then came up with an idea. "Look here, I got another apartment at the top of the stairs that ain't next door to nobody. Why don't you come up and take a look at it and see if it'll work for you. I can give you a break on the rent if you take it. In fact, I'll tell you what, if you'll clean it up and paint the walls, I'll give you the first month free and I'll supply the paint."

The building was a converted four-story brownstone so the apartment had to be in the attic and I wasn't too thrilled about the idea but it was obvious he wasn't going to be at all forgiving about any noise complaints and I sure as hell didn't want to get off to a bad start with my new neighbors. Anyhow, it wouldn't hurt to at least take a look to see if it was worth considering. I shrugged and said, "Well, I guess I can look at it as long as it isn't already occupied by mice and cockroaches."

"There ain't no mice or cockroaches in this building, not unless you're bringing them with you. Wait here while I go get the key."

I was right that it was a converted attic with dormer windows and drop-down ceilings. The layout wasn't all that bad but he was sure right about it needing a good cleaning and painting. It had one bedroom, a small living room, a bath with a shower but no tub and a kitchenette sporting a half-size fridge and an antique three-burner stove. I'm guessing maybe six hundred square feet total; cozy to say the least. I couldn't imagine a family being very comfortable in it but it'd work for a single guy like me.

I decided to take it but I remembered his offer of a break on the rent and decided to haggle with him a bit. I sniffed the air and said, "Smells kinda musty, like there's mold in the walls or something."

"There ain't no mold. It's just been closed up for a while. Open the windows for a few hours and it'll be just fine. I can let you have it for a hundred less than the other place."

"Oh, I don't know. That's a lot of stairs to climb."

"Shouldn't be a problem for a young, healthy man like you. Look, I'll make it a hundred and fifty less and that's my last offer."

I stood in the middle of the room and looked around critically like I wasn't too excited about the idea. As he groused his disdain and turned to head back downstairs, I said, "I'll take it. Do I get to pick out the colors?"

"Any color you want as long as it's white or beige 'cause that's what I've got in the store room. You want rainbow colors, you gotta buy your own paint! I'll go make up a new lease."

By the time I finished moving my meager belongings up several flights of stairs, I felt like I'd run a marathon and I was feeling fortunate that I didn't own a couch. My last trip down the steps was to reward myself with a six-pack of Heineken from the corner store and a small pizza from the shop next to it. I ate the whole pizza, drank two beers, showered, opened all the windows and crashed on my unmade bed to sleep the sleep of the nearly dead.