Day 1: The Apartment

Dan explores his new digs and arranges for new clothes, ignoring Thoreau's advice

approximately 1000 words

"La Patte de Desie" 
Day 1
The Apartment

         Dan sat back and tried to understand what had just happened. It was like every fantasy he’d ever had, all wrapped up in this incredible apartment.  He decided to start by exploring his new home.

         Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall on one side of the room where he and Ice Lady had talked. A dining alcove opened to a kitchen on his left. On the right a short corridor must lead to the bedroom and office.  When he approached the windows, he noticed that they slid open. He stepped out onto an expansive patio with a view of the city to the north.  The concrete towers of St. John’s Hospital dominated the scene, but trees and upscale residences filled in the background.  Traffic crawled like ants on 21st street beneath him.  Potted plants and flowering shrubs on the patio made him feel like he was gazing into a foreign land from within an exotic garden oasis.

         In the bedroom, he found ash paneling, matching furnishings, and a massive OLED TV panel.  He flopped on the king-sized bed.  Firm.  Not too firm, but not soft either. Just right. The spacious walk-in closet and dressers were empty.  The adjoining bathroom, with a glass-walled shower, a Jacuzzi tub, and marble counters promised more luxury.  The toilet lit up when he entered its closet. After he used it, it automatically flushed itself and sprayed a mist of water on his ass.  Incredible.

         The office featured a teak desk as big as a pool table, and another massive flat panel display.  The chair had the same baby-butt-soft leather he’d noticed earlier. A black leather notebook lay precisely in the middle of the vast desk. Embossed gold letters read Database Instructions.  Time to check those out later.

         The kitchen included a well-stocked bar, teak cabinetry, and Carrara marble countertops. He recognized a Miele oven and gas cooktop, along with a Thermador refrigerator equipped with doors that matched the teak cabinets. The freezer was well stocked, but, other than a magnum of Mumm’s, assorted sodas, and a pint carton of whole milk, the refrigerator was empty.  That shouldn’t be a problem, at least not if the bulging manila envelope on the counter included the promised American Express card.

         He opened the envelope and dumped the contents on the counter.  The American Express card was there, all right, a black one with his full name, Daniel Asher Black, embossed on it.  So what if the “member since” date was today, it was his.  He glanced at the accompanying statement and his eyebrows shot up at the credit balance of $10,000. 

         Another small envelope held twenty new, crisp, one-hundred dollar bills.

         There was more crap.  A long list of things he was supposed to not do, but they boiled down to stuff the Ice Queen had told him.  Another, shorter list of things was to do, but these were again what she’d said.

         He also found a key card, along with instructions for activating the biometric door locking system.  No actual key, though.

         Finally, there was an embossed business card for Mrs. Dalloway, Concierge, and a typed note that instructed him to press #9 on the pad next to the entry for service.  When he returned to the main room, sure enough there was a keypad next to the door.  He pressed #9, and at once a voice said, “How may I assist you, Mr. Black?”  He recognized Iron Lady’s voice from earlier. “Uh, nothing right now, thank you. I’m going out later.”

         “Very good sir. If you need anything, I can arrange delivery.”

         “I want to shop for some new clothes, so I'll need to be there. You know, to try things on.”

         “I understand, sir.  A new enterprise calls for new clothes, regardless of Thoreau's counsel. If I may be so bold, Nordstrom’s has a bespoke tailoring service. Would you like me to arrange an appointment?”

         What the fuck was she talking about?  Who was this Thew Roe person? Still, whatever a “bespoke tailoring service” was, it sounded fancy.  “Sure, go for it.” He glanced at his watch.  “Say, maybe, at two?”  That would give him time for a leisurely lunch at P.F. Chang’s.

         “Consider it done, sir. Will there be anything else?”

         “Reservations at P.F. Chang’s for lunch would be nice.”

         “Will anyone one be joining you, sir?”

         “Nope. Just me.” He couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to see. Certainly not his mother, nor his abusive, two-timing gold-digger ex.  Besides, his new good fortune was all super secret.  Better to cut all ties.  A new enterprise, like Iron Lady said.

         “Table for one at noon, then?”

         “Yes.  That’s all for now, thank you.”

         “My pleasure, sir.”  Her cold, even voice showed no emotion, and certainly no pleasure.  Dan shrugged.

         He thought about returning to his walk-up for his stuff, but there was really nothing there he wanted or needed.  For sure, not his crappy, second-hand clothes. Nothing there but depressing trash from a depressing life. He may as well leave it for Mrs. Greely and the Sheriff. He wasn’t about to waste time or treasure bringing the rent on that dump up to date.

         He resolved to start his life over, from scratch, beginning from this instant. Nothing from before mattered or would ever matter. For the first time in years, maybe since forever, he was looking forward to the future.  A new life called for new clothes. 

         Monsieur Désespoir chose that instant to wake up, stretch, and stare at him.  There was something about that stare that chilled his mood, like the cat looked deeply into his soul and found it lacking.

         Dan shuddered.  It was just a fucking cat. It couldn’t see into his soul.  It couldn’t even be interested in his soul.  It probably just wondered what he’d taste like. After all, cats were carnivores. Its stare was nothing to worry about, not with his wonderful new life about to launch.

Cats.  Go figure.