Townhouse Confidential

Chapter 5

In the three months since Jonathan moved in, his friend, George Barrow, had become an almost daily presence in the Perry household. Liz resented the intrusion on her comfortable routine. It was bad enough that their contractor, Tommy Leroy, had flaked out half-way through the job and Liz and her sisters had had to spend an entire weekend repainting the downstairs apartment so that Jonathan could move in. But, practically every day, George would stop by and point out problems that Liz never knew existed -- a door that didn't hang correctly, nails jutting out of the wide pine floor boards, a window that didn't close all the way and one window that didn't open at all.

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Though Liz was pretty handy with a power drill and wanted to make her new tenant happy, she feared she would never be able to please his friend, George. And, every time she saw that little red number appear on her iPhone’s screen, she knew that it was "just one more little thing" that George wanted done now. Didn’t he have a real estate empire to run?

"Hey, George!" Liz said, trying to manage a smile as she entered her tenant's apartment. "What can I help you guys with today?"

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"Well, it's actually just a little thing," George said, "but, after your contractor came by to do the repairs, you assured me that all the electrical outlets were working. This one clearly is not."

George pointed to the offending outlet with disdain. "In fact, I had one of my electricians come by and test it himself this morning. There's no power in that outlet at all. Even the neutral is completely dead."

“Well, it was working before Jonathan had his home theater system installed last week,” Liz said. “I tested it myself.”

“With what? Your iPhone?” George snarled. “You can hardly expect my friend to run a 60” flat screen TV, a Bose speaker system and an Xbox 360 from an outlet that’s barely capable of charging a cell phone. You’ll need to bring in an electrician to upgrade the power. I’m going to add that to the punch list.”

For a moment, Liz stood there, speechless. After months of trying to accommodate this rude and arrogant man, she couldn't keep quiet any longer. Even if it meant losing her precious tenant.

"This is my house," Liz said, her voice trembling, "and my sisters' house and, before that, it was my parents' house. We grew up in this house. We don’t have a lot of money, but we do the best we can to keep this place nice for our tenants. We rent out the downstairs apartment to pay our mortgage and our property taxes, and the rent barely covers our expenses even if nothing goes wrong. We don't have millions of dollars like you do.

‎"But, thanks to you and your stupid punch list, I don't know how we're going to come up with the money to pay our mortgage next month."

‎"Now, hold on a minute!" said George, unaccustomed to being spoken to like this. "You're the landlord. You have an obligation to make repairs and provide essential services."

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"Like what?" Liz snapped back. "Loose door handles? Windows that haven’t closed since my parents bought the building back in the Seventies? Your friend signed off on the punch list when he signed the lease, and, if he isn't satisfied with everything my sisters and I have done to make him happy, then he can pack up his flat screen and his XBox and stereo and get his ass out of our house!"

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"But --" George tried to interrupt her, but it was no use.

‎"I'm not finished," Liz told him, the anger rising in her voice. "At least, Jonathan is a gentleman who thanks me for doing what I can. You, on the other hand, are a rude, arrogant SOB who wouldn't help his own grandmother cross Bleecker Street. First, you chased away the only contractor who was willing to do the job for a price we could afford. Then you brought over your own electrician to find a problem we didn't know we had and you wouldn’t even pay him to fix it."

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"I know all about your secret plan to buy up the West Village and turn it a hedgefunder Disneyland," Liz shouted. "Well, there's one house in the Village you'll never get your hands on and it's this one. Even if our house were on the brink of foreclosure, I'd give it to the first homeless drug addict I saw in Washington Square Park before I'd ever sell it to you and your family."

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With that, Liz covered her face and burst into tears.

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When she looked up, George was gone.

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OMG, she texted Lydia. What did I just do?