It was Friday the thirteenth, the night before we needed to move out and I still did not have a place to go. I didn’t really know too many people in the city, but I made a few phone calls to the people I did know with hopes they could help me out. I was genuinely screwed, but I was trying to remain optimistic. It’s not my destiny to be homeless; something has to happen, I kept telling myself.
At around 8:00 p.m., Mr. Channing came over to help Darrell move his stuff back into his house. I imagined Judy wouldn’t be too pleased with this arrangement, but that was the furthest thing from my mind.
I didn’t want to be in there watching them move so I decided to take a walk and figure things out. I left the apartment and waited for the elevator. When it arrived, Mr. Channing stepped out and gave me a stiff shoulder, knocking me off balance. There was no apology. I didn’t say a word either, I just entered the elevator. Mr. Channing walked about halfway down the hallway then stopped and turned around to face the elevator. Just as the elevator doors were closing, he said, “Have a nice life.” The doors shut and I descended slowly down to the ground floor. Have a nice life? What’s that supposed to mean?
When I went outside, I saw Darrell loading his stuff into our truck. To avoid conversation, I took out my cell phone and made a call.
Mr. Channing came out of the building a few minutes later with another load. This time he had had a little more time to think and apparently had reached his boiling point. He gave me an angry-faced glare and belted out, “You little prick!”
It was the first time I had seen him lose his temper like that. I was completely caught off guard.
“Me?” I asked startled. “What did I do?”
“You know what you did! Playing your goddamn rap music loudly!”
“Jack, I don’t even own a stereo,” I responded back in disbelief.
“Yeah, just like you were skimming off the top of the company account for your own personal use,” he said, as he began to approach me.
“What are you talking about? I don’t even have access to the funds,” I said walking backwards.
He began to pursue me, still screaming. “And then you’re out here talking on your goddamn cell phone and you can’t even help your friend…after everything we’ve done for you!”
He was building up to the point of being in a complete rage and he had decided everything that was wrong with the situation between Darrell and I was somehow my fault. Aside from the black belt certification that was framed in his office, he was more than twice my size and I would rather not mess with him.
With his eyes locked onto mine, he completely snapped thrusting his big leg towards my head. I jumped back as his foot missed my head by less than an inch. We never broke eye contact.
“Mr. Channing, I don’t know what is going on here, but you know me, okay?” I said, trying to mollify the tension, but I was failing miserably.
I decided the best course of action was to remove myself from the situation. I crossed the street and disappeared into the night. I could still hear him yelling at me. “You know what, Trevor. You’re out of the company!”
He didn’t really have the authority to make that decision, but I was not going to argue. I wanted out.
C H A P T E R
E L E V E N
Judging by the amount of stuff Darrell had in the apartment, I figured they would be gone soon. I needed to disappear for a while. My heart was still pounding and my legs were a bit shaky. I tried to comprehend what had just happened. I had just avoided a potentially lethal blow from Mr. Channing. I should have felt lucky, but I felt like crap.
I needed to forget about what had just happened and focus on more important matters, like where I was going to live. I checked the time on my phone; it was 8:30 p.m.
I decided to walk up the street to a local supermarket. When I arrived, the place was empty. There was only one cashier open with no customers waiting. I went over to the cash machine and inserted my bankcard. I glanced up to make sure Mr. Channing had not followed me to finish off what he had started. I entered my PIN and hit ‘View Balance’. The display read, $438.43. I selected the ‘Transfer Funds’ option from the menu and transferred $500 from my credit card to my account, now I had a little over $900.
Right beside the cash machine, I noticed a message board. The amount of ads was overwhelming. An ad posted the day before was considered old because within a day, there would typically be three new listings stapled on top of it. I sifted through the layers, most of them junk – lost dog posters, concert listings, odd jobs, it was all there. There were some ads for apartments, mostly looking to share accommodations with a Japanese student or a female, neither of which applied to me. I was not even sure I wanted another roommate after my last experience, but with only $900 to my name, it was the only reasonable option. I found one ad that said ‘2 BEDROOM A