“Almost,” I tell her. “There’s a box for you.” I nod at a huge one in the corner.

“Oh, great,” she says sarcastically and goes over, bending down to lift it. “Don’t tell me all your hardcover books are in here.”

“Pillows and cushions,” I tell her just as she lifts it up with ease.

She comes over with it and looks around at the empty walls. It doesn’t even look like I lived here at all. “Wow. I know you made this place real cute, Nicola, but I think we all need to have some champagne tonight to celebrate the fact that I don’t have to come back to this damn neighborhood and get asked by Hustlin’ Joe outside for change and a BJ every time I visit.”

“Hustlin’ Joe?” I repeat.

She shrugs. “His words, not mine. Okay, ladies, are you done taking in the water-stained ceiling and the peeling linoleum? Because the men want to get this show on the road. Remember unpacking is just as bad as packing.”

I take in a deep breath. I’m ready.

We go outside and I see my landlord – soon to be ex – Mr. Stanley, standing by the building with his short arms crossed over his portly stomach, smoking a cigarette and glaring at the moving van. That was one thing I let Bram hire for the day.

“Mr. Stanley,” I say to him, coming over, cradling my box that I’ve labeled “Kitchen Crap.” In a second, Linden comes and wordlessly takes the box out of my hands and puts it in the van.

“Don’t expect to get a good reference from me,” Mr. Stanley says to me, cigarette puffing out the sides of his fat mouth. He frowns so much he looks like he has a unibrow.

“Well, that’s not exactly fair,” I tell him calmly, though what I really want to do is give him a piece of my mind. “I would have given you a month’s notice but it just didn’t end up that way. Wouldn’t you have rather this than me not paying rent and having to evict me?”

“But I enjoy evicting people,” he says with smile. “And this way, you don’t get your security deposit back.”

Shit. Shit. Shit! I completely forgot about that deposit. $500 is a hell of a lot of money for me right now.

“Is there a problem here?”

Suddenly Bram is at my side and he’s putting one hand on my shoulder. It’s warm and steady in the cool, grey morning. It feels good. That’s probably why I want to shrug it off.

But I don’t dare in front of Mr. Stanley. Besides, Bram is putting up a pretty intimidating front. For once he’s not in a suit, but dark jeans and a white t-shirt that fits every contour of his body and shows off his muscles. I’d been trying not to notice during the move – not the tan of his skin or the way his arms flex when he lifts something or the damp spot of sweat on his back. But now I’m grateful that his bulk is on display because I don’t for a second want Mr. Stanley to think he can get away with being an asshole.

“No problem,” Mr. Stanley says through a sneer. He rips his cigarette out from his mouth and glares up at Bram who towers over him and pretty much everyone else. “Just informing the girl here on how to be a good tenant. You leave like a good tenant. She hasn’t.”

“The girl,” Bram drawls out in his brogue, “is leaving because she and her daughter don’t want to live in a rat-infested hell-hole. You don’t think I haven’t been inside your building and seen how many building code violations you’re breaking, let alone any of the ones that would get you fired from being a building manager?”

Mr. Stanley’s face falters for a moment. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyebrows come apart.

“I’ve also been moving shit out of her apartment all day,” Bram goes on and takes out his phone, waving it at him. “I have pictures of the damaged between-floor barriers designed to prevent the spread of fire, a broken dry sprinkler system, a fire alarm system control panel flashing ‘trouble’ and an out-of-date fire safety plan, as well as rat droppings in the hallways, an elevator that doesn’t work, forcing all people, even the elderly, to take the stairs, and carpenter ant damage in the lobby. I’m going to assume its spread throughout the rest of the building.”

My mouth drops open. Bram noticed all that?

Mr. Stanley is pale. The cigarette is shaking in his hand.

“One call to the fire department and you’ll be fined at least $20,000,” Bram tells him, head high. “You’ll probably lose your job too. Or you could give the girl her security deposit back and we’ll be on our way.”

“Wow,” I hear Kayla say from behind me. “Bram’s the man.”

Bram looks at me briefly and winks. “There’s another motto for ya.” Then he fixes a steady gaze back on Mr. Stanley. “So, what’s it going to be?”

Mr. Stanley doesn’t have to think twice. He rips out his check book from his back pocket and writes me a check for $500. He hands it to me, unable to look me in the eye now then quickly heads back to the building.

“And no worries about being her reference,” Bram calls after him. “She’s got me for that.”

He nudges me in the side with his elbow. “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

We walk to the van where Steph, Kayla and Linden are watching us. I quickly give Bram a sidelong glance. “You really want me to like you, don’t you?”

He smiles, dimples and everything. “Oh, you like me. You just don’t know it yet.” He nods at Linden. “Come, brother, let’s go.”

I walk over to Steph who will drive me and Kayla in her car.

Kayla calls out at Bram. “Did you really notice all those violations?”

Bram nods. “I’ve learned something as a building manager. And believe me, next week, I am putting a call into the fire department.”

The three of us stand on the curb and watch as he gets in the van and it starts with a rumble.

“Damn,” Kayla says as they drive off. “That was some hot shit.” She looks at me. “You’re lucky you’re moving in next to that guy.” She pauses, lips pursing. “Are you going to move into his bed too?”

I roll my eyes. “Hell no. I mean, maybe he’s a bit nicer than I thought at first,” Kayla raises her brows, “okay, a lot nicer, but he’s still a jackass.”

“Jackass is a strong word for you, miss manners,” she teases. “Does this have anything to do with what happened at the wedding?” she asks.

“No,” I say, glaring at her before I walk over to Steph’s car. “And you didn’t see anything, so don’t go thinking something happened between us. It didn’t. It really didn’t.”

I can feel Steph and Kayla exchanging a look behind my back.

Later in the car as we drive down Van Ness, Kayla taps me on the shoulder from the backseat. “Why do you think he’s a jackass?”

I blow a piece of hair that came loose from my bun. “Because…he’s a manwhore.”

“That doesn’t make him a jackass. That makes him fun.”

Which makes me “no fun,” I think, remembering what he’d said to me at the wedding.

“I just don’t trust guys like that,” I tell her after a moment.

“But you’re not dating him,” she says. “So you don’t have to worry about that, do you?”

I shake my head. “You’re right. I don’t.” And really, I shouldn’t. But that night plays over and over in my head, the sweet feel of his lips, the sharp sting of rejection. It probably doesn’t help that the last man I kissed, the last person who turned me on and made me feeling something, instead of nothing, was Bram.

Once you go Bram, you won’t give a damn. But I did.

“Why all the questions Kayla?” Steph asks, her tone cautious as she eyes her in the rearview mirror.

“I can ask questions,” Kayla says.

“Mmm hmm. But you’ve got that look in your eyes.”

“What look? I’m Asian, you racist.”

“Shut up,” Steph says. “You know the look. The one you get when you find your next lay.”

Oh? I turn in my seat and look at Kayla. Yup, she’s got that look.

“Are you interested in Bram?” I ask her. Kayla had broken off her engagement with her ex-boyfriend a couple of years ago and now was always perpetually single but not for lack of trying. Any hot bod and she’s all over it. She even had a fling with Linden for a few weeks back in the day when Steph and him were just good friends. I’m not sure how Steph dealt with that but she doesn’t hold a grudge like I do.