The Tenant

Is it such an awful thing to want retribution against people who have wronged you?

So you see, when I stabbed Krista that night, I wasn’t saving Blake’s life. I was saving my own. I bet you five bucks Krista never saw that coming.

They say you’re supposed to dress for the job you want.

I have been unemployed for sixty-two days. Not that I’m counting.

I imagine what would happen if I went downstairs to the kitchen and boiled some water, then brought it up here and threw it in his face. That would change his life forever. The burns he would sustain would be permanent—his face would be scarred for the rest of his life. He might lose his vision. He’d never cheat on me again, that’s for sure.

Anyway, it’s all on my credit card, and that bill isn’t coming for two more weeks. That’s a problem for Future Blake.

I do love him. So much. But I don’t trust him.

If she had sex with a guy, she’d probably have to devour him after the mating ritual was over.

I bet you five bucks Krista never saw that coming.

I end up renting a Corolla.

I turn the faucet in the shower to ice cold and step into the stream. I’ve heard ice-cold showers are for psychopaths, but I’m addicted—I’ve been doing it since college. It’s an extra rush of adrenaline after I’ve come down from the high of my workout.

Krista answers the door this time while I brace myself for whoever is on the other side.Who knows what this prospective tenant will be? A convicted murderer in chains? A cannibal? A fire-breathing dragon? At this point, nothing would surprise me.But the woman standing in the doorway looks... normal.

A fire-breathing dragon?

And she’s just my type too.

after all, I will be single again very soon.

It will be an entertaining experiment. I’ll do it for the science.

She was one of those girls who were always surrounded by friends, but you could tell none of them were true friends. And if anyone did anything she didn’t like, she made it her business to wreck their lives.

tirade?

My boss’s secretary, Stacie, is standing at the open door to my office, her fist poised to rap on the doorframe to get my attention. And she’s got my attention. In that skirt—yes, holy crap, she has my attention.

Single upstairs bedroom available immediately in Upper West Side brownstone on a quiet tree-lined street. Bedroom is fully furnished and has two large windows and lots of closet space. Large shared kitchen, dining area, and living room. Subway adjacent. No pets, no parking provided.

Krista emerges from the kitchen carrying a plate of the snickerdoodles. She carries them to the sofa

Krista and I have been together for two years,

Thump

Because the teenage girl in that photo is not the woman who has been living in our guest bedroom

In fact, I sort of like her.

You know what? I have had enough of Mr. H. Zimmerly. I’ve been dealing with him practically every week since I moved here. And now? I’m done. Done.

If you see me eat more than four of them, feel free to stage an intervention.

I didn’t notice this when the stain was dry, but now that it’s on the paper towel, it’s clear that I got the color wrong. The stain is not brown. It’s dark red. It’s got to be wine. It’s the right color. Well, not exactly—it doesn’t have that purplish hue that I sometimes associate with wine. But it’s got to be. What else could it be? What other dark red liquid could have stained my floor boards? Okay, there is one other thing it could be. Yes, it is the exact color of blood. It much more closely resembles blood than wine. And it has a strange metallic smell. But it can’t be that. Because why would there be a bloodstain all over my floor?

The microwave dings. Whitney pulls out the Styrofoam container, which has a burger and fries inside. A reheated cheeseburger and fries don’t seem very appealing, but Whitney doesn’t seem to mind.

I don’t need a drink!” I snap at him. “I need a car.