Scrooged by Vi Keeland
“Is that…supposed to be a moustache?” Adam lifted his glasses for a better inspection of the photo of Tucker and me. We were standing in front of the dancing fountains at the Bellagio hotel in Vegas on Valentine’s Day earlier this year. I’d thought he might propose on that trip. When he didn’t, I convinced myself it was because he wanted to wait for Christmas so he could fulfill my childhood dream of a proposal and romantic kiss in front of the big tree. I was really fooling myself with him.
I sighed. “Tucker went through a phase after watching some Channing Tatum movie where he played a cop.” Even though I saw the photo on my desk every day, it had been a long time since I really looked at it. His moustache was pretty bad. He’d shaved the bottom of it so that it was oddly positioned too high above his top lip. And it never fully filled in, so it was pretty ratty looking, too.
Adam opened the back of the frame and slipped out the photo. “Even if you liked the bad moustache, a dude trying to look like Channing Tatum should have clued you in that he was an idiot, beautiful.”
I smiled. “I guess you’re right.”
He set the empty frame back on my desk and held up the photo. “Of course, I’m right. I’m always right. Now…would you like to do the honors, or should I?”
“I guess I should do it.”
I took the photo from Adam’s hand and stared at it for a moment. He really did look like an idiot with that moustache.
“Don’t have all day. I’m already going to hear the judge lay into me for being late. Tear it up, sweetheart. It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off of an old wound, just let it rip.”
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tore the photo in two.
“That a girl. Keep going.”
I smiled and ripped a second time. Then a third. It felt so good that I tore the damn thing up into tiny little pieces. When I was done, I dumped the shreds into the garbage can and looked up at Adam with an ear-to-ear smile on my face.
He smiled back. “You should do that more often.”
“Rip up photos?”
Adam’s eyes dropped to my lips. “No. Smile. You have a great smile.”
My belly did a little somersault. “Oh. Thanks.”
He cleared his throat and broke our gaze. “Come on, we better get going.”
Outside, the snow was falling even heavier now. Adam grabbed my arm and we made a run for it, jumping back into our waiting Uber.
Once we were settled into the back seat, I said, “Thank you for that. I actually feel pretty good now. Which is a feat considering I’m heading to my imminent doom.”
Adam unbuttoned the top of his coat. “What’s the deal on your eviction anyway? You don’t seem like the type to not pay your rent.”
“I’m not. I paid my rent every month—early. But I don’t really have the right to live there. The apartment I live in was my grandmother’s. I moved in two years ago when she got sick so I could take care of her. It’s rent-controlled. She died nine months ago. I love it there, so I stayed. I could never afford a one bedroom in my neighborhood. But the landlord recently found out and is having me evicted. He’s also suing me for the market value of rent back to the date that my grandmother died since I didn’t have a right to be there. He wants thirty-six-thousand-four-hundred-and-twelve dollars from me.”
Adam looked at me for a long moment. “Thirty-six-thousand-four-hundred-and-twelve dollars, huh?” He scratched his chin. “Did you say you moved in two years ago and she died nine months ago?”
“Yeah. Well, I was rounding. Maybe I’ve lived there a few months less than two years. Why?”
“Did your attorney tell you about succession rights?”
“I don’t have an attorney. I’m too broke. What are succession rights?”
“If you’re related to a senior tenant and live with them for more than a year before they die, you can’t be evicted and get to keep the rent control.”
My eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Were you there a full year before she died?”
“I’m not sure! I moved in during the winter, and she died the following winter, but I don’t remember the exact date I moved in.”
“You’d need to prove it in court today at your eviction hearing.”
My shoulders slumped. “How would I do that if I don’t even know the date I moved?”
“You could try to estimate and let them know you need a little more time to gather the supporting documentation since you just became aware of your succession rights. Think about something you can use to back up the date, like moving expense receipts…anything. Depending on the judge, you might get a reprieve until after the holidays. They’ll set another date, and you’ll just have to prove the timeline.”
Hope filled me, although I wasn’t confident I had anything to show when I moved in.
“And if I can’t prove it?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about that. Deal with it when it comes.”
“I already postponed once because I was sick. I don’t think they’re going to give me more time, no matter what I tell them.”
“Maybe they’ll want to go home early for Christmas, and you’ll get lucky.”
“Lucky, huh?” I teased. “I thought you said luck didn’t exist?”
“Alright…you got me. Poor choice of words on my part. In this case you’d be presenting new information that would result in a possible extension. So, I still stand by what I said earlier. We create our own fate.”
“Well, I maintain that my luck sucks lately, and I don’t think that will change in court today. I’m not expecting a Christmas miracle.”
“How you present yourself is everything, Meredith. If I’ve learned anything as an attorney, it’s that. Now that you know what you may be entitled to, that throws a monkey wrench into the whole situation. If you make them believe you’re confident in your estimation of when you moved in, I’d be willing to bet things will go in your favor.”
His attitude was definitely motivating.
I tilted my head. “You really do believe that people can take their fate into their own hands, don’t you?”
“A hundred percent. Mind over matter.”
I paused, debating whether to ask my next question. “What can I do for you?”
He squinted. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve done some good things for me in such a short amount of time…helped me rip up that photo once and for all and made me aware of this loophole that could possibly save my behind. I owe you. Seriously…what can I do for you, Adam?”
He blinked a few times and didn’t answer. I was starting to think that maybe that question sounded suggestive. Then something a little more PG than where my mind was going occurred to me.
I snapped my fingers. “Wait! I’ve got it.”
He lifted his brow. “This doesn’t involve you grabbing my crotch again, does it?”
See? He had taken my question the wrong way.
“No, wiseass.”
He winked. “What is it?”
“You said your mother is always on your back about not having a girlfriend. Why don’t you pretend you’re dating me?”
“You gonna come home with me or something?” He chuckled. “I think I saw a movie like that once. A date dragged me to it.”
“No. I won’t be coming to Ohio. But we can take some photos and make it look like we’re in a relationship.”
He was amused. “You’re suggesting that I do what you did with that photo of Tucker? Lie about being in a relationship?”
“Well, in this case, it would be harmless. You wouldn’t be hanging onto an unhealthy memory…just fabricating a story to get your mom off your back for a bit. You could even say it’s new, that we’re just casually hanging out.”
“You’re asking me to lie to my mother…”
“Well…yeah, bu—”
“That’s brilliant, actually.” He scratched his scruff.
Relieved that he liked my idea, I grinned. “Yeah?”
“Yep. I may not even use it, but what the heck…I’ll keep a photo on hand for an emergency if the nagging gets to be too much.”
“Perfect!” I beamed. “Okay, grab your phone.”
“Are you good at selfies?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. I’m the selfie queen.”
Over the next several minutes, I snapped a ton of photos of us together. The driver was looking at us through the rearview mirror like we were nuts.
I leaned my head into Adam’s and smiled wide. In some of the shots, we stuck out our tongues, acted goofy. We truly looked like a happy couple who had been together for a while.
Adam smelled so incredibly good. He was wearing some kind of masculine musk that made my hormones rejoice. Joy to the World! I found myself not wanting to stop posing for photos just so I would have an excuse to smell him, be close to him.
At one point, he wrapped his arm around me, and chills ran down my spine as I felt the side of his hard body against mine.
God, Meredith. That’s pathetic that you’re resorting to cheap thrills now.
Clearing my throat, I reluctantly pulled away. “I think we have enough.”
“You sure?” His eyes lingered on mine. Time seemed to stand still, and I got the sense that maybe he’d been enjoying the contact as much as I’d been. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.
For a moment I became mesmerized by the reflection of the streetlights in his glasses as he continued to stare at me. Maybe I wasn’t imagining the attraction. He had called me beautiful, complimented my smile. I’d assumed he was just pulling my chain, but maybe there was something there.
Anxiety started to build within me. This ride would be over soon. We’d be going our separate ways.
Would I ever see him again?
