Tracy Hayes, Apprentice PI

Chapter Six

I lived in a seven story redbrick from the 90s at the corner of Avenue J and Ocean Avenue, only two blocks away from Brooklyn College - not that I'd lived here when I did my one year there. It was a nice building with a live-in janitor that could be trusted to fix a leaking faucet, clean up the hallways, and keep out unsavory characters. It smelled of cleaning detergent, exotic spices, and cabbage. My neighbors all seemed to be able to cook the dishes of their native countries and did so regularly - or when they got homesick. But best of all, it was rent stabilized.

My apartment was on the fifth floor. It had two small bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen-living room combo. Jessica and I had furnished the common area together and she had left most of the furniture for me when she moved away, because Harris, her boyfriend, already had everything. It was an eclectic collection of old pieces we'd got from relatives and found at the Salvation Army thrift store, very 70s chic: strong colors, easy to clean, and durable. It was my first own home - my scumbag of an ex and I had never got around to starting one, because we'd been touring with his band - and I loved it.

I was home earlier than most evenings, and the day - at least the latter part of it - had been lighter than normal, but I was utterly beat. I barely managed to do my evening wash-up before I dropped on my bed. I was instantly out.

I woke up when Mrs. Pasternak, my next door neighbor, banged on my bedroom wall from her apartment and yelled that I'd be sorry if the alarm went off one more time, because her son Olek, who was a baggage handler at JFK, had been on a night shift and needed his sleep. Apparently misdirecting luggage was an all-night operation.

I got up bleary-eyed and thankful. Jessica used to make sure that I woke up in time, and I'd been having significant trouble with it since she'd moved out. Checking the time I panicked. I'd slept half an hour too long without reacting to the alarm at all. No wonder Mrs. Pasternak was annoyed, if she'd had to listen to it beep that long. But then I remembered I didn't have to be at work until nine. I hadn't changed the wake-up time in my alarm before I went to bed, so it woke me up at six. Or tried to, anyway. Groaning in pleasure, I sank back to bed.

I startled awake half an hour later.

I shot up and prepared myself for work. It was nice to actually choose what to wear instead of putting on a uniform - but more difficult than I remembered, especially since I didn't really have much clothes. It would be another hot day, so I selected a powder pink T-shirt - it slightly clashed with my hair, but I didn't care - and my only pair of summer pants - white but miraculously clean, tight and really good for my figure as they squeezed the extra bits in. I didn't exactly match Jackson's black on black look, but I felt great. At the back of my closet I found an old canvas messenger bag that would be perfect in my job. I'd fill it with everything I needed.

Breakfast was cereal without milk, because it had gone off and I'd forgotten to buy more. I began looking for a pen to compose a note for Jessica about it, only to remember she didn't live here anymore, and then spent a few moments wallowing in self-pity.

Despite the extra sleep, I was early to leave to work, so I made a detour by the college on my way to the subway. I needed a new housemate and I'd decided that the university was my best bet. I put the ad I'd made the previous day on the notice board by the housing office and crossed my fingers. It was almost a month until the next term started, but I felt confident someone would notice it before that. And if not, I'd manage the rent somehow until then.

Subway train was much more crowded than what I was used to and the people were different. This was the commute time for nine-to- five workers that I'd never been part of before. I found it exciting, even if it was hot in the car. It was a reminder that my life was different now.