Who Said You Could Raise Rent?

At the class reunion, Kyle Jenkins slammed his car keys onto the table the second he walked into the booth. "Everyone says driving a luxury car is amazing, but honestly, it’s whatever. Mostly, it just makes collecting rent a lot easier." Someone cheered and asked him how much he pulled in every month. Kyle leaned back in his chair, intentionally cutting his eyes toward Paige Sanders. "Not that much. That old apartment building down the block has a dozen units. It’s enough for me to just kick back and live off the passive income." The moment he finished speaking, his eyes landed on me walking through the doorway in my hoodie. A smirk instantly spread across his face. "Hey, Liam! Don't you live in my building? Perfect timing. You need to make up the rest of your rent tomorrow." I looked at him, my voice steady. "I paid it according to the lease." Kyle’s laugh grew even louder. "That was the old rate. From now on, when I say it goes up, it goes up." I frowned. "I sent the original 1,500 dollars through the online portal last week, just like the contract specified." Kyle swirled the drink in his glass, looking down his nose at me. "Like I said, old price. Starting today, it’s 2,400. Don't like it? Move out." He took a slow sip before adding, "You’re living under my roof, so my word is law. If I say it goes up, you pay the difference. End of story." Sitting right next to him, Mason Walker let out a loud, mocking snicker. "Kyle, man, he doesn't respect you as a landlord at all. If you don't put him in his place now, how is anyone going to take you seriously?" Paige glanced up at Kyle for a split second, keeping her mouth shut. Mason leaned closer to Kyle and lowered his voice, just enough for the table to hear. "Especially in front of Paige. You can't let people think you can't even manage a tenant in your own building, bro." Kyle’s face darkened instantly. Pulling out his phone, he tapped the screen and brought it to his ear. "Mr. Ward? Grab a locksmith and head upstairs," Kyle barked into the receiver, his voice echoing off the booth walls, "Change the locks on Liam’s place right now. Drag all his stuff out and dump it in the hallway." Chapter 1 After Kyle Jenkins dropped that line, a sudden quiet swept over the private booth. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the tabletop, his face practically glowing with self-satisfaction. Whatever the person on the other end of the line said back made Kyle frown. "Just do what I told you and stop running your mouth. I'll take the fall if anything goes wrong." Without waiting for a reply, he hung up right then and there. Mason Walker was the first one to snap out of it, raising his glass with a grin. "Kyle's got real backbone, man. Being a landlord nowadays means doing things exactly like Kyle here. If tenants don't know how to behave, you just clear them out." Kyle soaked in the praise, though his eyes never left me. He was fishing for panic on my face. Too bad he came up empty. I picked up my hoodie from the back of my chair and slowly pushed myself to my feet. "Touch my stuff, and deal with the consequences." The smug smile froze on Kyle's face for a split second. He clearly hadn't expected me to talk back with that kind of attitude given the circumstances. "Consequences?" He echoed the word, then let out a sudden laugh. "Liam, do you even understand what's going on? You're living in a building I own. Forget a lock change. If I decide to toss your junk out on the curb today, you'll be sleeping on the concrete." "I paid my rent according to the lease." "Lease?" Kyle let out a harsh scoff. "That was the old price. The rent went up, so you pay the difference." "I literally paid it last week." "Last week was last week. Today is today." He held up two fingers and shook them right in front of my face. "Price hike. It used to be 1,500, but now it's 2,400. If you can't afford it, pack your bags." I stared right into his eyes. "Are you sure about that?" "Obviously, I'm sure." Kyle cranked up the volume as if making sure everyone in the room could hear. "You're living under my roof, my word is law. If I say it goes up, you pay. Period." Mason immediately jumped in. "Look, Liam, Kyle's only giving you a heads-up because he's a nice guy. Anyone else would've thrown your crap straight into the dumpster." I didn't bother giving him the time of day. Mason's expression darkened, and he purposely shifted his gaze toward Paige. "Right, Paige? A real man must show some authority. If you can't even keep a single tenant in line, what kind of boss are you?" Paige lifted her gaze and threw Kyle a single look. She stayed completely silent. Yet Kyle acted like he’d just won an award, a grin spreading across his face again. "Hear that? Even Paige thinks I'm making the right call." Paige frowned, finally opening her mouth. "I didn't say a word." A few people around stifled their laughter, biting their lips to keep from laughing out loud. Kyle’s expression soured instantly. He slammed his glass down hard on the table, sending liquid splashing over the rim. "Fine. Nobody's eating anymore." He shoved his chair back, grabbed his car keys, and struck the table with a sharp, echoing snap. "All of you, come watch the show." Mason’s eyes lit up. "Are we getting to see Liam get booted out?" "You bet." Kyle locked his eyes on me. "I'm going to teach you what happens when you mess with your landlord." I pulled on my jacket and turned toward the exit. Kyle's voice chased me out the door. "Who do you think you're fooling? Even if you crawl back and beg me later, I'm locking you out." I didn't break my stride. Paige hung back at the very end of the group. As she walked past Kyle, her voice was ice cold. "You'd better figure out what you're actually doing before you do it." Kyle chuckled right away. "Don't worry about it, babe. I've got total control." He picked up his keys and flashed them mockingly at Mason. "All bark and no cash, watch how fast this guy breaks down crying." Mason nodded eagerly. "Total boss move, Kyle." None of them noticed the flash of pure disgust in Paige's eyes as she turned away. Meanwhile, I stepped out into the night air and glanced up at the evening sky. That old apartment building was only two blocks away. I had bought the entire place exactly half a month ago. Chapter 2 Kyle didn't know. None of the classmates back in the private booth knew either. If I had just pulled out the property deed back in the restaurant, that high-and-mighty act of his would have shattered completely on the spot. Yet I never did it. It wasn't because I was scared of him. It was because of Kyle's dad, William Jenkins. Two years ago, right after I graduated, I only had a few hundred bucks left to my name, barely enough to cover the next month's rent. Back then, William went behind his family's back and gave me a two-month extension on my rent. When I was stuck in bed running a high fever, he even dropped off two hot meals right outside my door. To keep me from feeling awkward, he didn't even knock, just texted me instead: [Kid, everyone hits rough patches. Just hang in there and push through it.] Later on, the Jenkins went bankrupt, and this apartment building was seized and auctioned off by the court to settle their debts. It was only after I successfully bid on the building that I found out William had started driving for a delivery app just to pay off what was left. He still had no clue that the new owner of this building was me. I had planned to wait until all the paperwork and legal handovers were completely finalized, then tell him calmly. It would be a way to pay back that kindness from years ago and leave the Jenkins with a shred of dignity. Judicial foreclosure properties always came with a transition period. Until the official handover was fully wrapped up and all the tenants in the building were notified, the existing rental contract remained completely valid, and tenants were legally required to keep paying according to the original agreement. That was why my 1,500-dollar rent payment last week went straight into the old collection account. That money wasn't handed over to Kyle. It certainly wasn't an admission that he still had any right to act like a landlord. I did it so the building's tenants wouldn't be thrown into chaos by the ownership transition. It was also to stop the Jenkins from finding out early, panicking, hiking up rent during the final stretch, holding deposits hostage, or harassing the long-term residents. Kyle assumed that because I paid, I was terrified of him. He had no idea. I just didn't want to burn bridges yet. If he was determined to stomp all over the last bit of grace William had left me... If he went ahead and smashed things tonight, what he was breaking wouldn't just be my front door. It would be his own last remaining escape route. By the time the convoy of cars pulled up in front of the old building, it was already pushing nine at night. Kyle was the first one out of the vehicle. He slammed his car door extra hard, tilting his head back to glare at the apartment complex. "This is my building." Mason trailed right behind him, instantly laying on the flattery. "Even if it's a little old, the location is prime. Kyle, you're gonna be pulling in passive income without lifting a finger." Kyle cracked a smile. "You call this anything? My old man's got way more assets locked down. Once I graduate, I can pull out a property just like that to launch my own startup." He said it as casually as breathing. Yet none of the other classmates chimed in behind him. Back at the booth, everyone had bought into his rich kid persona. Standing right in front of this run-down building, though, plenty of them were starting to have second thoughts. Kyle didn't notice a thing. He led the crew upstairs, and the second they reached the third floor, he spotted me standing right outside my door. Mr. Ward and a professional locksmith were standing close by, clutching their heavy toolboxes. Mr. Ward caught sight of me blocking the entrance, a deeply awkward expression crossing his face. "Look, Kyle, this tenant says he has a valid lease. Maybe we should reconsider..." "Reconsider what?" Kyle cut him off, marching right up to my face. "Liam, this is your last warning. Beg for forgiveness right now, pay the updated rent difference, and I'll let you pack up your trash and leave." I raised my phone, flashing the screen on to record. "I paid my rent according to the contract. You're trying to break my locks and haul off my personal property, and I'm recording everything as evidence." Kyle glanced at the phone, his hand shooting out to knock it away. I took a sharp step back, dodging his reach. "Keep your hands off my phone." "You've got the nerve to record me?" Kyle's expression twisted into an ugly scowl. "You think a little video clip is going to scare me off? This building is mine. I'm clearing out my own property, so what's the issue?" "Whether it's actually yours depends on the property records. Don't push things past the point of no return." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing." I raised the phone a little higher. "Just reminding you to think about the aftermath before you do something stupid." Kyle glanced back over his shoulder toward Paige. Paige was hanging out near the back of the crowd, arms crossed tight over her chest, looking profoundly bored. Kyle ground his teeth, pulled a thick wad of cash from his wallet, and slammed it onto the locksmith's toolbox. "There's a grand right there. That enough for you or what?" The locksmith jumped, startled by the cash. Kyle jabbed a finger at my front door. "Pick it. Now." "Boss, this isn't standard procedure..." "I said break the lock!" "But he has a lease..." "If anything blows up, I take the blame!" Kyle grabbed the locksmith by the collar of his jacket. "Do you want to make easy money or not? A grand to pop a single lock. Get it done and walk away. Who's gonna touch you?" The locksmith glanced from the pile of cash to me, then thought better of it and kept his hands to his sides. Mr. Ward stepped in, lowering his voice in a warning tone. "Kyle, if the police get involved in this, nobody's walking away looking good." "Even you're turning on me now?" Kyle whipped his head around to glare at him. Mr. Ward stayed quiet. Right at that exact second, Paige let out a quiet, sarcastic scoff. It wasn't loud, but it carried clearly enough to hit Kyle’s ears. "Real impressive." Kyle snapped back around. "What did you just say?" "Nothing." "You think I don't have the guts?" "I just think throwing cash around to bully people doesn't make you tough." Paige finished her sentence and stepped back against the hallway wall. Color drained from Kyle’s face, instantly replaced by a furious red flush. Looking like he'd been cornered at the edge of a cliff, he suddenly lunged forward, snatching a heavy hammer right out of the locksmith's toolbox. "Everybody back up." Mason scrambled to scurry out of the way. "Kyle, you're gonna do it yourself?" "When you're dealing with trash like this, words are a waste of breath." Kyle gripped the handle, hoisted the hammer high, and brought it crashing down hard against the doorknob. “Bam!” A heavy, muffled thud echoed through the stairwell of the old building. The lock merely buckled inward with a deep dent. I didn't blink, tapping my screen to dial emergency services. "Hi, police? Someone is trying to break into my apartment by force and steal my personal belongings." Hearing the word police made Kyle even more reckless, a manic grin spreading across his face. "Calling the cops?" He brandished the hammer, pointing it straight at my chest. "When the officers get here, I'll tell them you're a delinquent tenant who’s behind on rent and squatting on my property." I stared right into his eyes, my voice entirely level. "You're going to regret this." "The only thing I regret is ever letting a broke loser like you move into my building in the first place." Kyle swung the hammer back for another strike. This time, the deadbolt gave a sharp, metallic screech. It cracked wide open. Chapter 3 The door was dented, the frame warped and hanging off the wall. Kyle wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned back to the crowd, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. "See that? That’s how you get things done." Mason instantly started clapping like a loyal lapdog. "Kyle, you're a freaking legend!" The rest of our classmates just exchanged uneasy glances. Nobody joined in on the laughter. I stood by the doorway, my body completely still. I hadn't raised a hand. Not out of fear. The security camera mounted down the hallway pointed directly right at us. The second Kyle raised his fist, I knew he was dead meat. Seeing me freeze up, Kyle figured I was terrified. He sauntered over to the doorway and kicked the pair of shoes resting on my shoe rack. They were faded, worn-out sneakers. The soles were peeling away from the cloth, but I could never bring myself to throw them out. They were the last gift my grandpa gave me before he passed away. "Why are you keeping this trash around?" Kyle scowled, grabbed the sneakers, and dumped them straight into the nearby trash can. Mason caught the hint immediately. He darted over, pulling the sneakers back out of the trash. "Kyle, want me to trash 'em for good?" "Stomp on them." Mason hesitated, blinking. Kyle glared, his voice dropping into a dangerous bite. "You deaf?" Mason gritted his teeth and brought his heavy boot slamming down. The sneakers sank into a puddle of disgusting, murky water. Watching those shoes get ruined, my fingers curled into tight, white-knuckle fists. Mason stomped on them a second time, forcing a slimy grin onto his face. "Clean as a whistle now, Kyle." I lifted my gaze, fixing my eyes straight on him. "Pick them up." Mason’s fake smile froze. "What the hell did you just say?" "Pick. Them. Up." "You really think you're hot stuff, don't you?" Kyle stepped in front of Mason, his face twisting into a cruel sneer. "What? It's just a pair of beat-up kicks. Are you expecting me to pay you back?" "My grandpa gave me those." "So what? Your grandpa's six feet under. What's he gonna do? Crawl out of his casket to come after me?" The hallway went dead silent. I stared at him, my mouth set in a hard line. Kyle took my silence as a total victory. "Cat got your tongue? Where’d all that tough-guy attitude go?" He strode up and shoved his shoulder hard into mine. "Today, I'm not just changing the locks. I'm tossing every piece of your garbage out on the street." Right then, the door across the hall swung open. Molly Gable stepped out holding a grocery basket. She froze the second she saw the broken door frame and my ruined shoes in the puddle. She rushed over, her face pale with worry. "Liam! What on earth is happening here?" "Mrs. Gable, please go back inside," I said, stepping between her and the mess. Kyle snapped back, irritation oozing from his voice. "Mind your own damn business, old lady." Mrs. Gable looked at the heavy hammer resting in his hand, her expression turning red-hot with outrage. "Have you lost your mind, boy? He pays rent here! Nothing in that apartment is damaged. What right do you have to break down his door?" "I'm breaking down my door." "This is his home!" "It's my family's property! I'll do whatever the hell I want with it." Mrs. Gable raised a trembling finger at him. "You think having daddy's money lets you walk all over people? Liam is a good kid. He's always the first to help out around here. You aren't afraid of karma coming for you?" Kyle laughed like he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life. "A good kid?" He sneered, eyeing my faded black hoodie. "He’s a broke tenant living off dirt. And you're sticking your neck out for him?" "You..." "Back off, grandma." Kyle pointed the head of the hammer right at her face. "Keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and I'll kick you out tomorrow, too. You people have lived here so long you actually think you own the place." Mrs. Gable shook with rage. "You can't just kick me out!" "I own this whole damn building," Kyle roared, his voice echoing off the concrete walls, "I decide who stays and who gets tossed onto the street!" "Kyle," I said, my voice dropping an octave, "Don't touch her." "Oh, look at you! Playing the hero now?" Kyle had been seething ever since I stood my ground earlier. Seeing Mrs. Gable shielding me pushed him over the edge. He shoved her back hard. Mrs. Gable stumbled, losing her balance completely before crashing hard into the brick wall. Her grocery basket spilled across the floor, fresh vegetables and broken eggs splattering everywhere. I lunged forward, catching her before she slumped down. "Mrs. Gable! Are you okay?" She clutched her lower back, her face drained of color. "It hurts... Liam, my back..." Kyle stood over us, letting out a cold, heartless laugh. "Oh, come on! A tiny nudge and you're playing the victim? Are you trying to scam me?" I looked up at him, my eyes burning. "You pushed her." "She couldn't keep her feet under her! How is that my problem?" "The camera caught everything." "So, what if it did?" Kyle pointed at the splintered door frame. "Now I'm going in there to clear out his crap. Anyone who tries to stop me gets thrown out next." He turned around and raised his heavy boot toward the door. … "Kyle!" Holding onto Mrs. Gable, my voice chilled to sub-zero. "Take one more step, and God himself won't be able to save you today." Kyle paused. Then, he threw his head back and burst into a loud, mocking laugh. "Who's saving who?" Mason chimed in from the side, "Just apologize to Kyle already, man! Mrs. Gable just needs a quick trip to the ER. Don't blow this out of proportion." "Shut up," I snapped, glaring at Mason, "If anything happens to her, you're an accomplice." The color drained from Mason's face. However, Kyle had completely lost his mind. He glared down at my hands supporting Mrs. Gable, his jaw clenching tight. "You were acting so tough earlier! What, now all you can do is hold onto an old lady?" The second I turned my head to inspect Mrs. Gable's injuries, he charged straight for the entrance. “Bang!” He kicked the door wide open. The compromised lock snapped into pieces, and the heavy door slammed violently into the interior drywall, echoing like a gunshot. Mason scurried in right behind him. "Kyle, what should we clear out first?" "Smash the valuable stuff first." Kyle strutted around like he owned the place, scanning the small room. There wasn't much inside. A wooden study desk, a small TV, and the antique wooden cabinet my grandpa left behind. Kyle walked up to the TV and grabbed a heavy wooden chair nearby. "This TV isn't half bad. It would be a shame to wreck it." Mason asked, "Then what should we smash?" "That desk." Kyle pointed his chin toward my study desk. "It's an eyesore." He raised the chair high over his head, ready to slam it down, when a ferocious roar shattered the room from behind. "What the hell are you doing?!" Everyone whipped around. The elevator doors had just slid open. A middle-aged man sprinted out into the hallway. He wore a grease-stained DoorDash delivery jacket, his helmet sitting lopsided on his head, his face lined with sunburn and exhaustion. He was clutching a crushed, battered insulated delivery bag. The man was wheezing violently, but the second his eyes swept across the room, he froze dead in his tracks. Kyle froze, too. The chair stayed suspended mid-air. The man's gaze bypassed Mason and locked directly onto Kyle. Shock registered in his eyes first, instantly collapsing into a wave of unadulterated, explosive fury. The chair slipped right out of Kyle’s hands, crashing onto the floor. "Dad?"