I'm pretty sure this story is going to flop but the idea came to me, and I had to write the story. Like it or not, here it is. I'd be grateful for input.
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The Switch
By st0rmbringer
Walker Lennox was in trouble.
He had to find a place to live. And fast.
He'd just started his second year of college at Seattle University and the money for housing and food had run out. He was awarded a partial scholarship for scholastic achievement. It covered books and tuition but not housing costs.
His parents were in an accident weeks before and had to drain their savings and his college fund to pay the hospital bills and stay afloat financially. They couldn't afford to pay for his dorm and living allowances.
There was no way around it. He had to get a job and find a cheap place to live or else quit college and go home with his tail between his legs.
Walker was 19 years old, six-foot-three, well-built and easy-going. He had long, wavy light brown hair and a quick charming smile that lit up his features, making many a college girl catch her breath in contemplation or convincing a professor to change his grade.
It didn't take him long to find a job waiting tables, but finding a cheap place to live was a different matter.
His parents offered to pay first, last and security deposit, but it had to be reasonable. They couldn't afford much.
He started working and crashed on a friend's couch while looking for a place to live. He combed through the local newspaper, realty websites, and the college housing office, but there was nothing in his price range.
He was at the end of his tether and almost ready to throw in the towel when he happened to see a messy, handwritten announcement pinned to a college bulletin board.
"1 BR apartment available at 230 S. Lander Street. Kitchen, bath, laundry. Fully furnished living space above antique store. Reasonably priced. Easy access to college. Ask for Mr. Zheng."
There was no phone number. There was no way to call and ask about the place.
Nothing else had panned out, so why not stop by and check it out in person. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. There was no price listed. He only hoped the rent was reasonable.
Who knows, maybe it wouldn't suck.
The address led him to an antiques store in Chinatown. The building stood alone with a wide alley on either side. There was a strip of flowering bushes going down the length of the building on each side and a concrete road leading to a gated dead end.
A bell on the top edge of the door rang when he stepped inside the store. The building was larger than he expected with a high ceiling and row upon row of shelves, all of them filled nearly to bursting with Chinese antiques of all kinds.
He drew his arms in close to his body, not wanting to bump into anything and break it inadvertently in a moment of clumsiness.
He saw a cashier stand with an old Asian man, he assumed to be Mr. Zheng, standing behind it at the far end of the room and made his way towards it, glancing curiously at the incredible variety of items crowding the shelves.
The old man was small and withered. He looked more ancient than the antiques all around him. He wore a traditional, dark, loose-fitting shirt with long sleeves, a standing collar and white cloth button knots. It fit his skeletal form like a scarecrow's rags, but they were crisp and clean.
He looked at Walker with dull, lifeless eyes.
Somewhere deep within him, Walker felt a subtle warning buzz. Like something a person might feel while teetering at the edge of a cliff. It was the barest hint of a danger of some kind.
Was there a hint of warning in the old man's tired eyes?
Clearing his throat, he shrugged the feelings away.
"Good morning, sir," Walker said politely. "I'm here about the room. Any chance I can take a look, and maybe talk about the rent?"
The old man looked surprised then bobbed his head and jerked his torso in short jerky bows. He waved at him to follow and when he got to the glass front door, flipped a sign that said "Be Right Back" in bold black letters. He turned and locked the door after they both walked through and led the way to the right-side alley.
He shuffled slowly and painfully down the length of the flower-lined alley with Walker following close behind, until they came to a wide door that led to an airy foyer with a stairway to the right and a highly ornamented door to its left.
The old man pointed at the fancy door then at himself then led the way up the stairs, pulled a keyring from his pocket, picked out a key and unlocked the door.
The apartment was considerably larger than Walker expected. It had a kitchen with a full-size refrigerator, stove, and microwave. The dining area had a square table with four chairs. A wide cushy couch sat in the middle of the living room.
A door at the far end of the room led to a bedroom that had a bathroom with a walk-in shower. Two wide windows faced a large, high-walled garden behind the house. The queen size bed crouching in the center of the large bedroom was a heavy wooden monstrosity, but it looked fine.
Walker wondered why there was a small shelf high on the center of each bedroom wall. There were four of them, six inches wide and a foot long from the wall's surface. He was curious for a moment then dismissed it. Who cares? He could put candles up there whenever he had his honey over for some boom boom.
The furnishings were old and battered but in good condition. The floor was polished wood, and the sheetrock walls were painted a creamy off white. Several of the kitchen cabinets were filled with plates and pots and pans. The drawers had cutlery and other cooking necessities.
It was perfect.
Walker's spirits dropped.
It was too perfect.
The place was amazing, which meant the rent was probably going to be higher than he could afford.
After walking around the place, opening doors, cabinets and drawers, Walker went back to the old man, who waited patiently for him near the front door. He hadn't shown him around. When they got there, all he did was wave at the apartment and step aside.
"How much is it a month?" Walker asked, giving the old man his widest most charming smile.
The old man shuffled to the table, took out a small notebook, wrote down a number and waved at Walker to come take a look.
Walker went to the table and looked at the old man's messy scrawl.
He could hardly believe his eyes. It was a little more than he could comfortably afford per month and still be able to eat and pay for gas, but it was way less than he expected.
He glanced at the old man hopefully.
"Any chance you can go a little lower?" he asked. "I'm a full-time student with a part time job. I can use all the help I can get."
The old man shrugged and pointed at the ground. Walker stared at him uncomprehendingly for several moments then interpreted it to mean that the old man had to ask his wife downstairs.
The old man waved for him to follow and left the apartment.
He locked the door and Walker waited for him impatiently at the foot of the stairs while the old man slowly and painfully made his way down the steps, hanging on to the rail like a drowning man to a life raft.
The old man shuffled to the fancy door and disappeared inside, shutting it firmly behind him. Fidgeting with anxiety, Walker stood outside and waited.
He heard a shrill woman's voice raised in anger. Considering they were in Chinatown, he figured she was speaking Chinese.
The high musical voice rose and fell like waves crashing on the shore. He heard a strange hissing sound and then hard meaty thwacks. He shuffled from foot to foot, wondering if the old man was getting his ass whipped, until finally, the door cracked open wide enough to let the woman poke her head out to look at him.
He'd never seen anyone like her.
Her Asian features were so accentuated, they seemed exaggerated.
Her face was round, flat and as dark, cracked and creased as old worn leather. Like someone out of a National Geographic magazine. Her eyes looked closed almost to mere slits and were vaguely almond shaped. Epicanthal folds of skin extended from the upper eyelids to the inner corners of the eyes, making her look as if she was constantly squinting.
She had large, bulging bags under those squinting eyes. They were soft, puffy, wrinkled pouches sagging below her lower eyelids. The muscle and tissue around her eyes had weakened with age, making the fatty pads bulge, and giving an impression of tiredness. Though at that moment, she didn't look the least bit tired.
Her hair was iron gray, streaked with white, and pulled back tight against her small head.
She had pencil-thin eyebrows and deep horizontal lines on her forehead. The vertical lines between her eyebrows and above the nose, the crow's feet, the curved lines on her temples, cheeks, and around her wide mouth were as deep as canyons.
Her thin lips were turned down severely in displeasure. She had a big dark brown mole on the right side of her cheek with thick black hair sprouting from it like porcupine quills.
She was easily the oldest and ugliest woman Walker had ever seen in his 19 years of life.
He had a sudden urge to turn, grab his stuff and walk away, to leave this place and never return, but instead, he dismissed the thought and smiled charmingly at the old crone, hoping for a positive outcome to this whole ordeal.
She didn't come out of the apartment, only poked her head out, looked him up and down for several long moments, grunted, drew her head back in and slammed the door shut.
He had no idea what it all meant. The way she'd looked at him had made him uncomfortable, as if she was examining his physical suitability for some reason or looking closely at a horse she wanted to buy. Or more accurately like a leopard looking at a piece of raw meat.
He wondered why how he looked mattered to a prospective landlord, especially to a Chinese woman old enough to apparently have walked with dinosaurs?
