Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
That’s what I was afraid of.
Chase
After work, I run home to change out of my suit and into something a little less business. The apartment is quiet as a mouse, and once I toss on my favorite pair of Levi’s and switch out the suit jacket and tie for a T-shirt and light bomber jacket, I grab my phone and keys off the kitchen counter and head for the door.
It’s nearing seven in the evening, and I leave the light on in the entryway to make it easier to see when I get back from my sister and brother-in-law’s place later tonight.
I step out into the hallway and pull the door closed behind me, but when I turn to insert my key into the lock, the dead bolt slides home all on its own. Just for shits and giggles, I stick my key in anyway and unlock it. But I’ve no more than pulled my key back out for a second when it locks again with a clack.
Is my apartment haunted? I wish, but sadly, no.
The culprit is my freaky temporary roommate Glenn.
I didn’t even know he was home, but I never know when he’s home. Glenn moves like a ninja at all hours of the day, a dark hoodie pulled up over his side profile to keep me from ever actually getting a look at it. He doesn’t talk and he doesn’t socialize, and to be honest, those have been perks. But when I find random carafes of liquid outside my door every morning and barely get the front door closed before it locks behind me, I understand why the guy living in my room before me left a complicated series of bolts on the bedroom door.
I don’t know Glenn’s last name. I don’t know if he has a job. I don’t even know how old he is. Glenn is an enigma. And I’m kind of hoping to move out before I find out exactly what that is.
How did I find myself in this living situation? Great question. One I ask myself about twenty times a day.
Seven months ago, I was hired by Longstrand Publishing and moved to New York after spending nearly a decade in the booming Southern city of Nashville. And I was used to hustle and bustle, and even a lot of weirdness, but what I wasn’t prepared for in the Big Apple was a roommate by the name of Glenn.
Renting isn’t cheap in New York, and finding an apartment I wanted to invest money in wasn’t easy. And since I didn’t want to waste cash on living in a hotel, I ended up finding a roommate arrangement with low rent and a convenient commute. It was one of those “a friend of a friend knows someone who needs a roommate” kinds of situations.
In my defense, I didn’t realize I was signing on to live with Glenn, but here I am, living with Glenn.
Thankfully, the apartment I purchased and have been renovating a couple blocks away in Nolita should be ready in a month or two, and my roommate and his bizarre tendencies will be in the past.
My expenses will be higher living alone, but I won’t have to keep a butcher knife under my pillow either.
When I consider where my life was two years ago, I still can’t believe how much it’s changed. I was social—sometimes overly so—newly engaged, and only half-baked into my focus on my career.
If there’s one constant with life, it’s that it changes and evolves—sometimes to the point where it feels like a real hit to the nuts—but in the end, it usually gets you where you need to be. In my case, it got me here—working at, arguably, the biggest publisher in the country, with one of the top authors in the world right now, and hyping myself up to turn my whole career inside out to make sure the books on my roster are a success.
I rarely engage with any social activity, other than the occasional dinner night with my sister and her husband like I’m doing now. It’s a big change from the barhopping life I lived with my ex-fiancée Caroline, and yet, somehow, I’m happy. Happier, really.
I feel engaged with my life, not just in a fake it till you make it kind of way, but in a main character energy, “I’m driving this car” kind of way.
It’s invigorating. And scary. Because when you’re in charge of your destiny, everything is yours to gain or lose. The choices you make can’t scapegoat themselves on to other people, and the reality you face is one of your own making.
You can fail. Or you can succeed bigger than you ever dreamed.
As I walk out of the elevator, I step out of the way for an elderly lady with a white poodle and hold the door until she and her little dog can get on safely. She thanks me with a smile, and I offer her the same in return before heading on my way.