Dude Looks Like A Lady

[Ross (DELETED 9384)]

Ross had spent the better part of an hour skimming through online ‘how to,’ ads in regards to writing an ad for a roommate. More was best, instead of keeping it simple and to the point; like ‘wanted roommate for a two bedroom apartment.’ Providing the city, neighborhood name (if there was one), transit options, stores near the area, and how the utilities would be paid, or shared. Finally, concluding with the duration of the roommate length, and contact information. Photos were a plus, not that Ross had many--or any.

Ross picked up the phone near the computer and took a few pictures of the main living area, the bedroom that was for ‘rent,’ and the kitchen. The pictures were sent to Ross’ private email for the heavily inked woman to put in with the roommate ad when she was finished with it.

Ross pursed her lips in thought as marble grey colored eyes started at the blank document on the screen. She stared with the easiest thing--The title. Smack dab in the top, middle of the page, in big bold letters, Ross typed up the words; ‘ROOMMATE NEEDED.’ From there, things seemed to flow easier, her fingers pounding over the keyboard as Ross lived in the moment.

I have one room to rent in my apartment, in Harper Rock, subdivision in Newborough. The apartment has a two car slot on pavement, so if you have a car, one of those spots is yours. If not, the apartment is about three blocks from the transit, and there’s a mall not far from there. Easy to get anything you need or want in this neighborhood. All furnishings you must provide for your room, but anything in the common areas; living room, kitchen and bathroom are yours for the taking. Rent includes electricity, water and cable bill. Heat is not included in the rent, we’ll go 50/50. In the winter months, it’s about $45 bucks per person. Text if interested to setup a showing. Ross included her name and number, then added the photos that she took at the end of the page and printed it off. Once Ross inspected it, she headed out to put a couple copies around the city light posts near the Newborough district, before heading to work.

[Balthazar]

It would have been nice if Chris had left a thick stash of cash in the wallet that was now missing from his dresser for the second night in a row. It wasn't like the guy needed it where he was going anyways. Part of Balthazar felt a pang of guilt for even thinking the way he did. The other parts not so much. Still the extra cash would have beat having to use his own which is what he was about to do. He was going to need a place to call home base until he sorted things out with the one the city knew as Jesse Fforde.

As for Chris, the one who knew full well where Balthazar had headed and so far he had not put a stop to what had funded it, he should be relieved. His older than dirt car was running better than it ever had and for once in the dying salesmans life he was actually staying put. He didn't have a choice. He was coming to the end of his days which gave Kita time to forgive him for being the worst choice she made too many times to count.

Balthazar stepped off the slab of raised cement that was expected to keep a car going any farther than the parking space permitted. The glow of the street light cast over his shoulders adding to a false sense of warmth coming from the source towering above him. Both of his hands moved up and back over the top of his head and smoothed back what could use hot water and soap. So could other parts now that he had his arms up and pits airing out. Another chunk of cash would be providing the nightly shower he required. Being on the road sucked. There was nothing wonderful or liberating about it. Christopher was not winning any favors with the time that continued to pass that had Balthazar tying up his loose ends.

“Hey…”

The sound of a voice calling out from behind him got his attention and the drop of his hands towards his pockets. Shifting his gaze from the car beside him to the lot he had his back to he discovered a thirty something curly headed guy coming closer than he felt comfortable with. Balthazar stepped back slowly just in case. Sleep deprivation does a number on the brain.

“Your name Ross?” The hand that lifted as he asked produced a flyer with ROOMMATE NEEDED in bold hard to miss font. “I wanted to catch up with you before you put up anymore of these.” The paper switched between hands and now Balthazar was holding it making it easier to read. “You can't be putting these up where you are.”

[Ross (DELETED 9384)]

“Excuse me, miss!” A voice called from somewhere behind her, as Ross stood there looking at the elevator in a hotel lobby. “Miss! The elevator isn’t working right now. We’ve got a call in and the guy…” A male looked at the clock above the elevator and then back at Ross, “Should have been here by now. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but the stairs are right around here. I can show you.” Ross took a step back while the guy had been talking and let him do his spiel before she cracked a grin at him. She was used to this, and usually what followed afterwards. “Are you a guest here?” The tattoos always had a reaction, which was why most of them were covered up. But the chest and neck tattoo always stood out, unless she wore a turtleneck and those died out in the eighties...or was it the nineties? Some lame *** era.

“Well, gee golly. I don’t know if I could afford a room in this high class hotel on my...eighty-five thousand dollar salary.” Ross unzipped her camo print denim coat to reveal her badge for the company she worked for-and he called about an hour ago. “Now look here. I’d hate for anyone to think that someone, between the two of us,” She pointed to him with both her pointer fingers, “Is a sexist asshole, so it might be best if you just point me to your elevator machine room so I can try and do my job.” Ross dropped both her fingers and then looked at him.

“Oh! I wasn’t...I didn’t mean-Right this way.” He stammered, his orange shaped head growing red in color as he flustered about. “Well, thank you.” Ross said as she shrugged out of her coat, and revealed a teal, and blue colored long sleeved flannel that stopped right above her waistline. Below that was a white tank top that was longer than the flannel, which may, or may not come off at some point to reveal a tapestry of art alone her arms and back of her neck too.

As they walked, he explained the situation that Ross had already identified, but since it made a sexist misogynist feel important and better about himself, she let him talk, as Ross scrolled through her phone and replied to her boyfriend’s Facebook message from earlier this morning. It was easy to do since he never really looked back at her, but the phone was put away as she noticed him slowing down. These walks were usually straight and to the point, unless it was in a basement, or top floor. “Could be an issue with one of the counterweights, but before I go crawling into a tiny space for no good reason, I want to take a look to see if it isn’t something else.” Ross said as she watched him fumble for a key for the ‘machine room’, find it, then open the room, revealing the loud sounds of machine’s running. Ross instantly went for the ear plugs that were in the top of her flannel pocket and stuffed them in both her ears. “I’ll come out and find you at the desk if I need anything else.” She said as the last plug was put in her ear, noting where each piece of equipment was located at, before disappearing behind the door that eventually clunked closed when the hotel employee let go of it.

[Balthazar]

Balthazar looked across the space between he and the motel clerk. There wasn’t a whole lot separating them. The 60’s manufactured pressed wood surface was all there was. It wasn’t saying a lot but in it’s day it likely was complementary to the extensive paneling on the walls surrounding them. The hard card snapped to the surface and Balthazar nodded at the face that finally pulled from the re-run of Benny Hill and took interest in the fact he was standing there.

“Checking out?” There was not waiting for an answer. A pale hand reached across the counter and took possession of the key card that was used to get in and out of the half star rooms.
“Not sure if you are aware but I am think you got bedbugs. Either that or my *** has a case of hives from your mattress.” Balthazar questioned if he should even reach for his wallet. Chris’s car was far more comfortable and he didn’t want to pay for the reminder if he didn’t have to. “I would like to speak to your manager.”
“You are.”

There was a chill that found his spine and he rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to shake off the annoyance. So this is how they did things in the backwoods of Canada. Balthazar nodded slowly as if he was expecting to hear what he did. But he wasn’t deterred yet.

“Then I want to speak to the owner.” His palms found the surface of counter and braced his body while his right work boot took to perching on the top of the left.
“You are.”

Balthazar let that piece of information sink in while he sucked the air through the hardly noticeable space between his front teeth. Fine. So now he was getting somewhere. He wasn't paying and he was prepared to be upfront about it.

“I’m not paying.”

There. He said it. He pushed hard against the edge of the service counter and found himself standing once again on both feet. That is when the clerk slash manager slash owner smiled a most disturbing grin. It revealed a rather discolored set of sharp fangs that he didn't expect to see.

“Yes, you are.”

Two hours later Balthazar stepped out of the local drug store with a paper bag in his hand. He had the confirmation, from a wannabe pharmacist but most likely only a tech, that the hives were in fact bites and the source was fleas or bedbugs. Either way the generic brand benadryl equivalent was going to help. He felt violated. For more reasons than the annoying itch covering his ***.

He had been essentially robbed by the owner. It wasn't like he could go report it. For some inexplicable reason he handed over his wallet to the guy and watched him empty out all the cash and toss it back. Now he was back to square one. A crinkle of paper in his pocket as he dug out his keys, wait...Chris’s keys, reminded him of another option. Instead of coating himself up for relief he sent a text out with his limited minutes cell phone. Now he could tend to what wouldn't wait. It was time to coat up his ***.

[Ross (DELETED 9384)]

It wasn’t uncommon for a machine room to have a sub-room for the elevator gear in places like hotels and small businesses. Heck, Ross had even seen it in a ten story apartment complex before. Space was vital in places like these, so they tried to lump everything together. It was also common to find things that didn’t belong in that room, because of lack of space. And while there wasn’t a lot of stuff in the elevator machine room, even one thing was too much and broke code. So when Ross found the remains of an old vending machine, all she did was shake her head. She wasn’t in the business of writing up violations, but she knew just who to contact if she needed to. After she was done here, she would tell the concierge guy that he had about a week before her friend Tom stopped by and slapped the hotel with a nice fee for breaking code.

First thing was first, Ross went right to where she ‘thought’ the problem may lay. The overspeed governor. Her fingers moved to the glass box, opened it and took a look at the cables. None of them seemed frayed, or worn beyond their years, so the problem didn’t lay with the cables themselves. There was a grinding against her belt buckle where her phone rested, which she ignored for now. If it was her boyfriend he could wait, even if he hated being put ‘on hold,’ as he called it. If it was someone for the extra room in her apartment, a couple minutes wouldn’t kill them either. Her eyes moved to the sheave above the cables, and Ross frowned. When was the last time they had maintenance done? She would have to go back through their records, but she hadn’t been here since the hotel opened a couple years ago. Ross didn’t take it personal, maybe they went with a different company, there was one other in the city. That was the thing about this sort of trade. There weren’t a lot of elevator operators; more apprentices than full fledged operators, most bowing out in their second year, itching to be on their own before they were ready. The only way to know was to ask him outright. The thing looked drier than a bone and that wasn’t good for anyone-the business or the people riding the elevator. Ross hoped that it might just need some grease and to have the weight system, because that would mean the job was relatively easy. Time consuming, but easy.

Ross moved out of the room with the elevator machines, to the machine room and propped the door open with closed metal chair, and headed to where her toolbox was at. Where Ross could find her minor supplies; like a flashlight, some grease, cable ties; things of that nature. While she walked, she pulled out her phone and checked out the message she got. It wasn’t a familiar number, which caught her interest and hope. Rent wasn’t insanely high for Ross, but if she could save a few bucks, then she could get the much needed newer truck she was looking at. With all the bells and whistles. Heated seats, bluetooth, camera in the back for backing up and it could even parallel park itself. She hated parallel parking, but it was a necessary evil.

Ross replied to the text with a quick message. Do you want to stop by tonight? In about two hours? The job shouldn’t take longer than this. Not with some greasing and resetting the weights. At least, Ross hoped so.

[Balthazar]

Balthazar was feeling a whole lot better thanks to that tube of relief he picked up at the drugstore. Well enough that he had nodded off in the back seat of Chris’s relic of a caddy in the employee parking lot of something that resembled a laundromat. His long legs were folded up as much as they could be thanks to the windows being up. Ever since he discovered that set of fangs on the motel clerk, and then pretty much everywhere else he went he figured rolled up windows and locked doors meant no one would be tempted to mess with him.

He was from Seattle not the other side of the moon. There was no huge secret about the existence of vampires. In fact he was pretty sure the one he came looking for was one. It seemed like the city was full of them. It wasn’t something he wanted to ask of whoever he was dealing with. He had other things on his mind to deal with first. Sleep was foremost. Who’s your daddy was probably second. What the **** is in my back was likely third. Wait, what was in his back?

Balthazar stirred from his shorter than ideal rest and sat upright grabbing hold of what had been disrupting him. He eyed the cell phone in his hand and found the glow of the screen revealing a few messages. Kita was asking where the hell he was and when he was coming home. Of course Chris was in the hospital again. The guy was dying. He had not missed that memo. The golf club was wondering if he had the keys to the dive room, which he did. Oh, and there was something new. Did he want to look at the apartment tonight? Two hours? He looked at the time the message came in and the time it was at the top of the screen. He had twenty minutes to get there. Fast fingers left the blur of color as they moved to say he would be there.

Once the text confirmed it was sent his hips popped up and his back followed. He slid over the back seat into the front and rolled into a seated position getting both hands on the steering wheel. Ross was a decent name. Place was easily affordable and no lease involved so there was no huge commitment. How bad could it be? As the engine rumbled to life he smoothed his hair back with both hands and glanced in the rear view mirror. He didn’t look too bad. The visible ink on his face, neck and hands said he liked art, he had a thing about hygiene and his sharp styled ‘stache said it. No stubble for him. If he was going to do it he never was one to go half way. Just like the rest of the ink and surgical steel modifications spread over his body he owned it proudly.

Fifteen minutes later found him parking the caddy where there was a bunch of cars on the street. He leaned forward to look over the steering wheel at the numbers to make sure they matched up with the address given in the text. It all looked legit. A reach behind the seat had him pulling forward a handful of leather. While his boot nudged the door open he slid his long arms through the sleeves and stood up giving it a final adjustment with his hands. Ross was likely going to wear that expression most did when setting eyes on him but he had more than a ink, steel and a mustache to him. He had the personality to go along with all of it.

[Ross (DELETED 9384)]

"When was the last time you had anyone in to do some preventative maintenance on the elevator?” Ross asked the concierge as he ripped out a check from the hotel’s three on a page check book. ”Oh, I don’t know. Less than a year ago. Maybe nine months?” He said slowly handing the check over to her to take. “Elevator must get a lot of use then.” Ross replied dryly knowing she couldn’t prove otherwise until she made some calls. The woman grabbed for the check, the tattoos showing off their colorful canvas on her arms. With the check in her left hand Ross’ eyes narrowed while she leaned forward. “Word of advice. You’ve got about a week at best to move that broken vending machine out of the engine room before Tom comes in here and gives you a nice slap on the wrist and with that comes about a five hundred dollar fine.” She folded the check and stuffed it in the pocket of her flannel, before grabbing her tool box. She didn't pick it up, Ros intentionally let the old, cold metal screech across the counter top. “Have a fantastic day.” She said on her way out, pushing the revolving door outwards so she could get the heck out of this place.

The toolbox found its usual spot, on the passenger seat, tucked against the door when she got in. Ross fished out her phone, ignored the Facebook message and focused on the reply from the random number that may, or may not be her future roommate. She glanced at the time on the dash above the cd player and realized she had to move her butt if she was going to be home by the time the person got there.

When Ross arrived at the complex, she didn’t see any different cars or trucks that she hadn’t seen before in the parking slabs. She had about ten minutes before they would arrive, so with a grab of her toolbox, she booked it to the front door of the four apartment building.

She stomped up the steps to her apartment, the smell of baked...maybe fried chicken from the other apartment opposite of hers, had made for dinner. Ross groaned, thinking about what she would eventually have for dinner. She didn’t know, but it probably wasn’t something like that. Her meals were usually quick and easy, simply because her job was a twenty-four hours a day sort of job. Elevators malfunctioned at all hours of the day. And night.

The key was put in the door and then shoved open with the front of her work boot, before Ross’ routine set in. Her coat found its place on the back of the kitchen chair, along with her flannel that would get tossed into the washer before the night ended. Her toolbox on the kitchen table, boots slid out of at the door and put on the rubber mat beside it, before she entered the apartment completely. Usually, she would start making that something quick and easy the second she walked into the apartment, but with company coming, Ross decided to bypass that and head to her bedroom to change into a different top. When she came back out, she was still dressed in the dark jeans she had worn earlier in the night for work, but was now sporting a maroon shirt she tied at her waist, and a black sweater over that, while she moved to answer the door that seemed to have company, judging by the knock at it. Ross propped open the door, leaned against the side of the opened door and looked at the guy. Not what she had expected; which could be a good, or bad thing. “Hey. Here for the apartment showing?”

Wearing: https://s-media-cache-ak0.p i n i m g.com/73 ... 6e6352.jpg

[Balthazar]

Balthazar looked at the door that opened and was surprised to say the least. He was expecting Ross. Not a chick who looked like she stepped out of Ink magazine to answer the door for...what was his name again? Oh yeah, Ross. He looked to the apartment door and the number then back to the doorway. He was still expecting to see a guy perhaps in his forties at the most with a book smart look to him appearing any moment. Maybe he was off on his assumptions on who he was meeting. Perhaps this was the girlfriend. Ross just won some points for good taste.

“Kinda waiting for some guy named Ross.” He tried to avoid looking at her too long because it might not be a great first impression if Ross rolled up to find him checking out what clearly wasn’t listed as included with the apartment share. “He around?”

Balthazar was careful not to step forward and crane his neck for a view over her shoulder. Not that there was anything worth looking at while she was standing there in front of him as far as he was concerned. Her ink was about as extensive as his from the looks of it. He could be wrong but something told him despite what was out of view thanks to the clothing he was more likely right. And if this wasn’t the moment where he was trying to get hooked up with a really affordable living arrangement and they were elsewhere he would have did the typical inquiry of where she got it. No one spends that much time and money making the commitment of getting permanent ink unless they wanted to talk about it.

“I was supposed to meet him here to see the room up for rent and the shared living space.” His head cocked just enough that he eye the neck work she had done. “Or I can come back if that works.”

Balthazar really was hoping that wouldn’t be the case. He had enough of sleeping in the car and getting screwed over by the shady by the hour places around the city. He was planning on being around long enough to deal with Chris’s unfinished business and finding out if there was anything worth getting to know this Fforde he crossed paths with. Once that was done and dusted then he would hit the happy trail back to Seattle or wherever the wind would blow him when that time came. The Clash’s “Should I stay or Should I go” started up in his head briefly then he let it go.

[Ross (DELETED 9384)]

Some guy named Ross, the man at the door said. Roslyn-Ross, got that a lot. It used to bother her, but now she found it down right hilarious. She let the guy at the door finish up what he had to say, her dark eyes taking him in again, before Ross shook her head. "Now works." With the way he looked, she was surprised he was so...narrow minded. Ross opened the door and stepped out of the way to let him in, before giving the guy a small smirk, that appeared as she closed the door. "I'm Ross." She said as Ross pulled both arms behind her back and cracked her shoulders. Her phone was yanked pulled off the table, pressed it to her left ear and then said, "Hello?" The phone was held out to him, her smirk still on her lips.

"It's for you. 1950 called and wanted you to know that it was almost twenty-twenty. Men and women can have the same names and no one freaks out about it." Ross stuffed the phone in her back pocket and slapped at his upper arm with the back of her hand. "Kidding. I am Ross, so he, is a she. Is that going to be a problem?" Ross was short and to the point. there was no point in wasting either of their time if he couldn't bunk with a woman. "I promise not to use your shaving cream, if you stay away from my eye liner." Ross said with a laugh, before moving towards the living room. "Want to see the space and your possible room, before you make up your mind?" Ross asked, before adding on, "The spare room is pretty nice. Women and men can live together too. Just in case you were the really old fashioned type." She stopped then and offered her hand. "Like I said, I'm Ross...and you are?" She asked while her phone vibrated in the back of her right pocket, while her hand remained suspended in air, waiting for the just as inked guy to take it, and stay, or take it and make a break for it.

[Balthazar]

“An *** but feel free to call me Balthazar or whatever comes to mind.” The grip of his warm palm found hers as his fingers curled firmly. Nothing in the means of overdoing it was attempted but enough effort was applied that she would get the impression he was genuine in the handshake. He was an *** after all if given enough time to be and for adequate reason. “Ross…” He let go of her hand. “I like it.” He glanced around as his boots led him forward a few feet and to the side of where she was standing. “The name and the place so far that is.”

Balthazar was in no shape or position to be looking as they often would say ‘a gift horse in the mouth’. It didn’t matter what the room he would be sleeping in looked like. It would sure as hell be a lot better than the limited space he currently had in the backseat of the relic cadillac he been trying to catch a few random z’s in. And he was already convinced that it would beat the local Bates motels he had been holed up in and pretty much robbed by over the course of the last few nights. He needed to get a place set and a roof over his head before Chris’s line of credit was maxed out and it required him to open his own wallet.

“Sure they can.” He rubbed the palm of his hand at the back of his neck while confirming he was aware that men and women could shack up. He chuckled as he turned to acknowledge the question as to if he was old fashioned. “I have a lot of proof that I am anything but that.” He shrugged and used the movement to slip his hands into the respective front pockets of his jeans. “So, show me what you got to offer and I will take it.”

Classic Balthazar. Hugh would have a chuckle over that. He eyed Ross briefly then smirked as his attention went anywhere but where it really shouldn’t be. Down boy, down. No harm done in saying it how it is.

“Your eyeliner is safe.” He nodded finding the place a serious upgrade compared to what he had been camping out in over the last couple years from what he could recall. “That much I can promise.”