Off to the left is the main living area. Comfy couches and chairs surround a square glass and metal coffee table in front of the TV and gas fireplace. That whole wall is brick.
Even the pipes snaking down the walls and across the ceilings are decorative. None of those gaudy silver air vents to disrupt the decor. All the metal in this condo was made by an artist, and that includes the hot water pipes.
The dining room and kitchen are across the living room. An amazingly modern take on the crystal chandelier over the long wooden table complements the others hanging in the living area. The kitchen is white and sleek. Quartz countertops, industrial-sized stainless steel appliances, and a huge island big enough to have sex on.
But it’s the bedroom that steals the show in this place. Of course it is, right? Bric is a man who knows how to do up a bedroom. It doesn’t have doors, per se. They are sliding barn doors that stand twelve feet high and open at least ten feet wide—like he’s planning on driving a tractor through them. And they’ve got alternating panels of aged wood and opaque-smoked glass.
Everything about this place says… man. And yet it’s done so well a woman can’t help but see herself living here.
I might’ve gasped for air when I saw this condo that very first night.
I might’ve pictured myself sleeping in that bedroom forever and ever, even if my reason for coming to Denver had nothing to do with forever and ever.
I might’ve said yes to his weird offer just to see if I could make things happen.
Of course, I ended up in the Club apartment. Which was disappointing, but only a little bit.
Bric is standing in the kitchen talking to some worker and pointing to the cabinets when he notices Quin and me. “Oh, good,” he says. “You’re here. OK. Everyone out. Thank you for coming on short notice. Send Margaret your invoices and she’ll pay you tomorrow.”
“What the hell is going on?” Quin absently asks as he pulls open one of the massive fridge doors and grabs a beer.
“Baby-proofing,” Bric says, smiling at Adley. “So the pumpkin can’t accidentally eat cleaning products and what not.”
Quin shoots Bric an annoyed look over his shoulder, then pops the top off his beer with a bottle opener and takes a swig. “Baby-proofing?”
“Yeah, you know?” Bric says, walking over to me, grinning down at Adley. “Kids do weird shit like shake cleanser canisters and then lick the dust up off the floor. You gotta be one step ahead at all times.” He reaches down to tickle Adley’s chin. “Right, pumpkin?” She squirms in my arms and shoots him a gummy smile. “What do you think, Adley? Do you like it here?” Then he looks up at me. “You do, right?”
I nod. “You know I love this place.”
Quin walks over and sets his beer down on the island. “How come I thought you lived in Cherry Creek?”
“I have a place there,” Bric says. “But I don’t live there.” He almost snorts. “With all those rich assholes? No thanks. I’m fine at the Club. This place rents out on one of those internet sites for a thousand dollars a night. But it’s gonna be home base for Rochelle and the pumpkin from now on.”
“That’s awfully nice of you,” I say, looking around. My dream, right? But when I glance at Quin, he’s not reacting quite the same way. “Hey,” I say to him. “I’ve never seen your place, Quin.”
“No,” he says, taking another sip of his beer. “Never have.”
“Well, this is your bedroom, Rochelle,” Bric says, pointing to my fantasy bedroom. “That one’s for Adley.” There’s a second bedroom down the hall—if you can call it a hall, since it’s eight feet wide, wide enough to have a small settee against the wall and not even notice. “I have a crib coming, but it won’t be here for a few days. Assholes said they only had the floor model left in the store. And we’re not letting our baby sleep in a floor model.”
Our baby.
Quin’s look quickly turns to annoyance. “You picked out a crib?” He leaves off the words, Without me. But we all hear them anyway.
Bric looks a little regretful. “Sorry, man. It was all last-minute, you know?”
“Whatever,” Quin says, exhaling loudly.
A buzzer breaks the awkward silence that follows and Bric says, “That’s the food,” as he walks over to the elevator. “Rochelle, look.” I follow him over to the elevator and watch as he points to the security panel. “When someone comes to visit, they buzz from the lobby or garage. There’s a camera here, so you can see who it is. And a speaker, so you can ask them what the fuck they want. Then you buzz them up the elevator by pressing in the code. The code is just 1234.” He pushes the buzzer and we watch the delivery guy get in the elevator. There’s cameras in there too. “I only had two parking spots, but I bribed another tenant out of his this afternoon. The paperwork’s not done yet, but it’s open for you. It’s right next to the one you parked in, Quin. We’re all three right by the elevator.”
“How many people in this building?” I ask.
“Ten. One condo for each floor. But there’s two elevators. One on this side of the building, one on the other. So you only share the elevator with five.”
“Cool,” I say.
“Where’s the outside space?” Quin asks.
“Well,” Bric says. “This place doesn’t have any.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Quin says, his tone slightly sarcastic. “I guess Rochelle will have to bring Adley to my place for outside time.”
“There’s a park,” Bric says, pointing to the window. “Down there by the river. Chella is only a few blocks away.”
“Not really,” Quin says. “It’s not walkable. You have to go all the way around Union Station and then down 20th.”
“Well, it’s just temporary,” Bric says. “And besides, Rochelle has a car. She can go to any park she wants.”
Quin shrugs, like he’s not crazy about the idea of me living here at all.
“Where do you live, Quin?” I ask, mostly to take his mind off whatever he’s dwelling on right now. But also because I’ve never been there. And I’m interested. “A man’s home says a lot about him.”
“Down by the convention center,” he says, a hint of regret in his answer. Like it’s not a great place for parks either.
The elevator doors open and Bric walks off to get the food delivery.
“I’d like to see it,” I say. “Whenever you have time.”
“Sure,” Quin says, looking around at Bric’s amazing condo. “But it’s nothing like this. So I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“Do you have outside space?” I ask, hiking Adley up on my hip. She’s getting so heavy now. Her tiny baby days are almost over.
This is the right question. Because Quin smiles big. “You’re gonna love my terrace. Bigger than this whole condo.”
“Really?” I ask, trying to imagine his place. Then why would he think this is better than a Central Business District condo with a two-thousand-square-foot terrace?