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We reached my floor, but the hallway looked different. It was brighter. All the light bulbs were working for a change—a first for Zhukov. And the carpet was different.New?
Albert got the door open for me when I couldn’t manage it. “The new super fixed up your unit,” he told me. “You should be safe here for the night. Get some rest and call me if you need anything.”
I flopped down on the bed.
“Water and pills in the morning,” he said, and closed the door.
* * *
I wokeup the next morning to a splitting headache and pried one eye open. It didn’t feel like morning, but the light around the window shades told me it was. It took a few blinks to figure out where I was—my old apartment, the place I’d called home before… Before the part of my life I didn’t want to think about now.
I was face down on a pillow. It didn’t feel like my old pillow. And hadn’t the old one been water damaged? Maybe it was the same one because my cheek was on a wet spot. Nope. That was drool.
I had to pee in the worst way, so I went to the bathroom and back to bed without turning on one of the lights.
Sleep would be my refuge. I couldn’t hurt when I was asleep. I had a vague recollection of instructions to drink the water and take the pills by my bed in the morning, so I did that and went back to sleep.
CHAPTER44
Alexa
The knockon the door woke me. The aspirin had helped, but I needed more. The knock sounded again.
“Who is it,” I yelled.
“The super.”
Fucking great. The last time I’d pissed off Zhukov hadn’t worked so well, so I rolled out of bed a went in search of my bathrobe. It should have been on the back of the bathroom door.
When I switched on the light, I found it on a hanger in a dry cleaning bag. None of this made sense, but I ripped open the bag, wrapped the robe around me, and went to the door.
I had to blink a few times. The view through the peep hole wasn’t Zhukov. “Who are you?”
“Sorry, Ms. Borelli. I should have explained. My name is Franks. I’m one of the new supers. Sorry to bother you, but I heard you returned last night, and I wanted to check and see if you were happy with the repairs to your unit.”
Definitely not Zhukov. I unlocked and opened the door. “Franks you said?”
“Yes, ma’am. May I come in?”
The man was massive, Albert sized. I stepped aside. “Sorry, I’m a little groggy. I got in late last night.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know how that can be. When I took over, I was informed of the damage to your unit, and I want to personally see that you are satisfied.”
No longer drunk, I started to take in the changes.
“I replaced the bed,” he said. “I hope it’s satisfactory. The ceiling and the original leak have been repaired. I had the carpet replaced, and all of your clothing that was out or hanging was dry cleaned. The refrigerator was also replaced.”
“Thank you,” was all I could think to say.
“I didn’t want to go through your drawers, but if any of that needs to be cleaned, just let me know. All this is on the landlord’s tab.” He offered a sheet of paper.
I took it.
“It’s the rent reconciliation. You’ve been credited for the time the apartment was uninhabitable.”
Compared to Zhukov, this treatment was like living in an alternate universe.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
