Landlord's Daughter

Chapter 1

NOTE!!

I am reaaaalllyyyyy sorry to any of you who've read this! I basically shoved this story into a corner and it collected dust and died there lol. I've just been so busy :( Anyhow, I'm pulling this story out of the closet and going to continue it again! These first few chapters should be the same, I only fixed the grammar. Please don't hate me :(

Right now I'm sitting in the dining room at one end of the table with my dad at the other end. Everytime we sit like this other than for the reason of eating, it's because he has something serious to tell or make me do. Today was no different.

Bored out of my mind, I rested my cheek on my hand as I rubbed my finger against the freshly waxed tabletop. The dark cherry wood dining table was handcrafted with amazing detail. My finger traced the intricate carving on the side of the table as I waited for my dad to finish up with whatever paperwork he's doing. I've got a pretty bad gut feeling that paperwork involves me.

I'm more for stress free things, living life as it goes for art and shit, not boring paperwork. I've already got a short attention span, paperwork just kills me.

My dad shuffles the messy stack of papers into one neat pile before clearing his throat. Since being president of a company and all, he gets straight to the point.

"Evelyn, I'm going to get you into the real estate business," my dad said in an authoritative tone. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, already sensing my irritation rise. I absolutely hated real estate, or any business in general. I will not waste my time doing paperwork, selling houses, or any of that crap.

"This is my life Dad, real estate is boring. I'd rather die than do that!" I exclaimed, trying to show him how much I hated it.

"What you do won't get you anywhere in life. Have you even achieved anything yet? When I was your age I was already setting up plans on how to rise above others. Have you thought of that? Real estate is something you will invest in that will make you rich. Someday I want you to take over Fischer Homes. I have already bought you a three-story flat for you to maintain. It's in OK condition, though some parts might need touch ups, but the in-law won't be rented due to some plumbing and termite issues. They're redoing the entire in-law. Your job is to rent out the second and third floors, and if the tenants stay for this school year with positive feedback, maybe we could consider you going to SOTA."

SOTA? The School of the Arts? That's the college I've been dying to go to. I pretty much dream about going there. My dad was always saying how it's a waste and I should be going to Westend instead, a prestigious school that's right in my city, and my dad also graduated from there. Maybe his views had changed, maybe there's some hope of me going to SOTA after all. I felt hope bubble up inside me at the thought of going to my dream school.

"Hmmm, that doesn't sound too bad."

"Just as I thought. You're expected to maintain the place, meaning any leaks, broken faucets, or the sort, must be fixed by you. Your tenants will call to alert you of any issues. Now let me teach you a few things..."

An hour later, I was handed a lease, the address of the flat, a stack of cash, and told to go fix up the flat and advertise. I suspected some hands-on dirty work involved with this flat, so I changed into some old, unwanted clothes. The tee shirt was a failed DIY project. I absolutely love Do-It-Yourself projects, but sometimes the image in my head and what I actually make don't look quite the same. I painted a tiger on this shirt, but I was drinking strawberry kiwi juice while painting and accidentally spilled it on my shirt, leaving a faded pink stain on half the tiger's face. I redid the shirt a few days later sans juice.

I grudgingly pulled on some old sneakers and stepped outside into the bright sun. I wish I could say that I gracefully descended down the curved staircase of my mansion (no kidding, my dad wasn't cheap in buying a house), but instead I skipped down, taking the stairs two at a time. I just wanted to get this over with. And oh so graceful me tripped and ass planted the pavement.

"Fuck," I muttered, picking myself off the pavement and glared at the new hole in my old jeans and my scraped knee. That's gonna scar. Sigh. My silver convertible was parked right in front of me, and I got in, taking the top off with the push of a button. It's way to hot to be leaving that thing up. I argued with my dad that I didn't need a convertible, and would be fine with any car, but he insisted that his "little daughter must have a car as beautiful as she is". Ah whatever, I love feeling the wind in my face.

I plugged in my iPhone and turned on the music, put my Nikon camera in the seat next to me, bobbing my head to the beat as I started the car and drove off.

The blue three-story flat in front of me is not what I expected. I expected my dad to go all out as he always does and buy the top of the line, but I guess this shows exactly how much I know about his business. The exterior was painted a dark blue with white trim with a small veranda in front of each window. I dug through my pockets and found the key labeled, "Gate", and walked inside.

The tiles on the floor were pretty clean, though it looked like I might need to sweep up a bit. The wooden banister was simple but in good condition. I walked up the steps to the second floor and fumbled for the keys before unlocking the door. it made an audible creak and I made a mental note to oil the hinges. Looking around, the place wasn't that bad. The carpet looked new, the walls clean, every switch and socket had a switch plate, and the lighting was good.

I set up my tripod to take a few pictures of the interior and exterior to advertise.

When I was done, I grabbed the handmade for sale sign and propped it up in the window. Westend was real close to the flat, and I cringed at the thought of having to go there. I have grades good enough to get me into almost any school of my choosing, but even if I had a 2.0 GPA my dad's generous donation to Westend was enough to get me in. I don't like the fact I'm rich, it just makes everything seem worthless. I want to earn the money myself, but my dad won't let me work. He says that someone like me shouldn't be doing the dirty work, leave that for others. Although, he is making me maintain the upkeep of this flat, so I have no idea what's going on in his mind.

After taking one last look around, I headed home.

The moment I entered my huge room, I immediately flopped onto my bed and called my best friend Samantha, Sam for short.

"Hey Ev, what's up?" She asked in her usual chirpy voice.

"Can you believe this?" I groaned.

"That your dad is a wacko? Already got that one."

"Not that," I chuckled, "But seriously. He bought me a flat. To maintain. To get me into real estate. Again."

"Damn, he really is set on molding you into what he used to be."

"I know! But he said that if the tenants give positive feedback with no troubles then maybe he'll consider letting me into SOTA!" I exclaimed. There was a pause on the line before Sam spoke up again.

"Are you sure? He may be stringing you along, no matter how weird that sounds. You've always been complaining to me that he hated SOTA and was set on sending you to Westend," Sam said worriedly.

"What if he changed his mind now? Stop killing the mood."

"Just don't be upset if otherwise. Sorry I've gotta go, Jeffrey is nagging again, bye!"

Jeffrey is Sam's eleven year old brother, she's always complaining that he's a pain. I know she loves him anyway. The rest of my friends are all out doing something fun for summer break, so I guess I'm going to have to get this ad up.

Author's Note

How was it so far? A lot more is going to come up, I'm going to try to speed up the beginning, don't want it being one of those real slow stories.

SOTA is actually a high school in the city I live in, I just borrowed the name.

I know some about real estate, not everything, so if I mess up don't nitpick.

DON'T BE A GHOST READER!

~Kat