As I sat in the car outside of my apartment complex, my roommate came running out the front door. Fear was written across his face as he ran down the street. I had no idea what Mr. Jett could have done to make my roommate so scared. A series of ideas ran through my mind, but it didn't matter, because regardless of what he did, I felt a deep satisfaction that he scared the shit out of my roommate. It was a little while later when Mr. Jett came downstairs with some of my stuff. I examined him when he entered the car. There was no blood on him, no bruises. My roommate didn't hurt him. I wondered what Mr. Jett looked like when he was threatening.
I was so exhausted that it was difficult to argue with Mr. Jett letting me stay with him. I figured I would stay with him just a day or two and then maybe I could find more accommodations. When I entered his townhouse, I tried to hide my amazement at the place. I was so relieved it was not entirely stark white and gray the way so many rich people's houses were. It had a lot of character. It was just so huge, too. When he mentioned the elevator, I was a little dumbfounded. It was dark in the house, so I didn't get to see a whole lot of the decor. Regardless, it was the spare bedroom that amazed me. In particular, the bed. It was the softest, most comfortable bed I had ever slept in. I slept in all the way until eleven o'clock.
When I woke up, I decided to explore the house. The spare bedroom itself was nice, with white walls but ethereal teal decor with hardwood floors. The spare bathroom was entirely in the brand's teal color, reminding me of a vintage bathroom like at my grandma's house. The second spare bedroom had more of a navy blue style to it, but it was a little smaller than my bedroom. There was also a small gym with a large window facing the back of the house, enough to let some natural lighting in.
Downstairs on the fourth floor were three more spare bedrooms with a shared bathroom. The third floor had yet another bedroom in a nice jade color that I liked. Then came the library, which kind of blew me away. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the room, with two sofas and two armchairs in the center of the library. This is also where the balcony on the front of the townhouse was. I liked to picture myself sitting on the balcony for breakfast, but quickly got the thought out of my head.
The second floor seemed to be like a normal house. It had a gorgeous dining room with a table that could seat twelve people. There was a bathroom, another bedroom, and then there was a living room with a great entertainment center and a patio that seemed like a normal person's patio. The first floor had a den, so basically a living room without an entertainment center but it had a cool conversation put like from the 70's. I recognized the kitchen from when we went through it from the garage. It had a kitchen island with barstools, all the appliances you could ever need, even a detached broiler. It had a pretty backsplash that gave me Spanish vibes and navy blue tiling on the counter. I liked that his house was kind of an ode to vintage decor.
In the basement I entered the wine cellar which led into a game room of sorts. It had a pool table, ping pong table, dart board, poker table, and a video game setup. Through the game room was a long hot tub that was covered. I took the elevator from the basement all the way up to the sixth floor. I entered upon a terrace with a glass dome. The terrace had a fire pit in the center and surrounding chairs, along with tons of plants. String lights lined the wrap-around balcony, but they were not on. So I went up the spiral staircase and entered the first room, which was a gorgeous art gallery. There were photographs and paintings all around, along with some sculptures spread throughout the room. I knew I could spend so long looking, but I wanted to keep exploring. So I walked along the balcony to the door on the other side.
I entered upon a huge bedroom that was monochromatic in a dark teal. The only other color was the gold accents on everything and the hardwood floors, trim, and bed frame. It was enough accenting to make the teal not overwhelming. Due to the unmade bed and the open closet door, I realized this was Mr. Jett's room. I started to retreat, but then remembered Mr. Jett saying nothing was off limits. I wasn't going to snoop, but I did want to see his bathroom, which matched his bedroom. It had the biggest shower I had ever seen. The bath tub was almost like a mini pool, I swear. He had a Jack and Jill sink, but only one side seemed to be used. I opened a door that led to a small office. The window looked down on the back patio.
On the desk, there was one photo of Mr. Jett with Michael, Emilio, Carla, Marion, Don and Jerry. He was giving that same soft smile he gave, but he seemed genuinely happy in the photo. He looked so young in it, too. It must have been from ten years ago or so.
It was when I heard noise from downstairs that I quickly ran out of his office, out of his room, down the stairs, across the terrace, and down more stairs to the fifth floor. I ran into the spare bedroom I had been sleeping in. I was scared, but then I realized it was noon and that it was most likely Mr. Jett returning for lunch like he said he would. I put on a pair of sweatpants over the underwear I had been sleeping in. By that time, I heard commotion in the other spare room, so I went through the shared bathroom to see some moving men carrying boxes into the room.
Mr. Jett was standing in the doorway, observing. He noticed me standing in the room. "Hey there," he said. "Did you sleep well?"
I nodded. "Yes, the bed was really comfy," I said. "Is this all my stuff?"
"Yes, or at least what I thought was yours. I apologize if anything was left behind. When you move into your new apartment, if you need furniture, I can help. I mean, I have plenty to spare. There's even some unused down in the basement," he said.
I didn't remember seeing any furniture in the basement, but I felt weird saying that. Before I could say something, the movers were done so Mr. Jett and I walked downstairs to see them out. When they left, we were alone in the foyer. "Mr. Jett," I said. "I..." I didn't even know what to say. "I really appreciate your hospitality, but I can find another place to stay. I don't want to cross a boundary or something, and I would feel like such a burden."
"Em, it's perfectly fine. Like I said, I usually sleep in the office. But, if you would rather find accommodations, then you are more welcome to. But please do not get a hotel. You can't pay for a hotel for what - three weeks, so over twenty-nights? On top of your rent? I don't want to put you in any situation where you are uncomfortable, so I apologize if I have done that. I just don't want you to, you know, be homeless or have to max out a credit card."
There was a genuineness in his face. He seemed actually worried for me. Still, it was so unorthodox to stay at my boss's house. Then again, the house was so nice and he agreed to keep it quiet. It was only twenty-one days, to be exact. Twenty nights. Then October 15th would come, and I would move into my cool new studio apartment. Also, I would be at the office most of the time. Maybe I could visit my family for the next three weekends.
"Okay," I said. "But please let me know if you need to kick me out or if I'm in the way. I'll try to be as quiet as I can and to not be annoying."
"I'm sure you will not be annoying," he said. "Anyway, are you hungry? I can get something delivered if you would like."
"You really don't have to do that," I said, even though I was hungry.
"Well I'm hungry, and I like to share food. So I'm going to order pizza from the place down the street, ok? You can have some if you like, alright? I'm going to work out for a bit, though, until it gets here."
"Ok. Thank you," I said again.
While Mr. Jett worked out, I took a shower. When I was done, I looked through one of the boxes of clothes in the other spare bedroom. I pulled out a clean pair of clothes, deodorant, and my moisturizer. When I was done getting ready, the pizza had arrived. I went downstairs to the kitchen where Mr. Jett was in a pair of black athletic shorts (five inch inseam) and a gray tank top with sweat stains. I never realized how many tattoos he had.
"I just got a plain cheese one. Is that okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, cheese is great," I said, sitting at the island.
He grabbed a couple of plates and put them down. "Do you want something to drink? I mostly just have beer, wine, or water."
"Water is fine," I said.
He grabbed a glass and filled it up with the filter on the fridge. He sat across from me, sliding me the glass. I grabbed one slice and put it on my plate, because it was rather a large slice. I watched Mr. Jett put two slices on his plate, but I knew he would eat more. Mr. Jett had a large appetite. At first, I thought he ate a lot because of how much he worked out. He did work out a lot, but there was one time when I stayed late that I overheard him throwing up. I don't think he realized I was still at the office. I also don't think he intentionally threw up, like he had bulimia or something. I just think he over ate and didn't realize how much he was over eating. This was all speculation, though, so I didn't bring it up.
Instead, I examined his tattoos as he started on his second slice. I had only seen the hourglass on his calf, but he was really covered in them. He didn't have any on his forearms, but he had sleeves on both of his biceps. He had a tattoo of a guitar, a cactus, something that looked like a Greek statue feeding an eagle, a bird flying, a trumpet, a rose, and the depiction of "The Fallen Angel" painting on the back of his arm, but only of the arm and crying, angry eyes of the painting. There were also a couple on the back of his arms I couldn't see.
"How many tattoos do you have?" I asked.
"Not really sure nowadays," he said. "At least ten on my arms. A few on my back, a few on my legs, one on my chest. So probably at least twenty, but I haven't gotten one in years. I got most within a few years of each other, from when I was a teenager to early twenties. It's probably been almost ten years since I got one."
"They're cool looking. It's funny how much you hide them, like when you're in your suit and when you're not," I said.
"Do you have any tattoos?" he asked, then took a bite of his third slice.
"No. I'd like one, but I'm just kind of scared."
He shrugged. "They're not bad. My chest one was the most painful. I used to have piercings, too."
"I can't picture you with piercings," I said, but I could barely make out some of the old piercing holes, especially on his ear and the small one below his lip.
"Well you know, the early 2000's were a questionable time in fashion," he said.
I laughed. "Well, when you were a teenager getting your piercings I was still probably in middle school, maybe even elementary school," I said, finishing my one slice. I grabbed another one but knew I'd be full quickly.
"Is that the only piercing you have?" he asked, nodding to my little diamond stud on my nose. I got it about five years ago.
"I have my ears pierced, too," I said. "I just forget to wear earrings."
"I bleached my hair one time, too. Maybe I can find an old photo album so you can see how crazy I looked. I mean, back then everything was taken on a disposable camera. Do you know what those are?" he asked with a smirk.
"I'm only seven years younger than you," I said, smiling. "So yes, I know what a disposable camera is. And you definitely should find a photo album."
"I'll try. There's probably one in my office or something."
When we were done eating pizza, Mr. Jett finished off the rest and he went to his room to take a shower and I retreated to the bedroom. Mr. Jett was adamant that I not return to the office for the rest of the day, but I wouldn't have minded. I kind of wanted to distract myself from the thoughts going on in my head. What if my ex-roommate tried to retaliate? What if Mr. Jett gets annoyed of me staying here? What if I want to hook up with someone? I would have to go to their place, but then Mr. Jett would know I am not staying the night, and he would know I'm probably going out to have sex with some random guy I find on an app. He didn't want to know those details of my life! And I couldn't sneak out.
Yet, a part of me almost felt happy about everything. I wasn't sure why. I was relieved to have a place to stay that wouldn't cost me an arm and a leg. Alicia probably would have let me stay with her but it would have been cramped and I know she would get annoyed with me, especially when she was studying or something. Deep down, though, I think I felt a little touched that Mr. Jett was helping me so much. I mean, it was so kind of him. He didn't have to do this at all. It made me feel special, kind of like the type of special you feel when a teacher is impressed with an answer so they recognize you in front of the whole class. Obviously Mr. Jett was not my teacher, but he was my boss, and although he wasn't recognizing me in front of the whole company, I don't think he would have gone to these lengths for just anyone.
It seemed like he trusted me, which at the end of the day, that was the whole reason I was hired in the first place.