Chapter 1

Kendall

“This one,” my best friend, Barbie, said as we stood out the front of the property, eyeing the facade. “My gut is telling me this is the one.”

“Your gut said that about the last place,” I said. “We thought they had flocked wallpaper, but it was just mould.”

“OK, so that was just the cheeky kebab I had last night, not a true gut instinct,” she said, placing a hand over her taut stomach, but both of our eyebrows shot up at the sound of its gurgles. “And note to self, no more late-night kebab stands.”

We both knew that was a lie. Get a few drinks into her and she was hoovering down sketchy meat slathered with garlic sauce and hummus wrapped in flatbread like the food truck was going out of business.

“Well, let”s hope you’re right,” I said as we approached the front door.

I was desperately seeking a new share house. At twenty-seven years old, I’d hoped to be in a place of my own by now, but that hadn’t eventuated. Instead, up until last week, I was living at a place that seemed really nice. My two housemates were around the same age as me, polite and cleaned up after themselves, which was all you could really ask from strangers you paid to live with. Oh and for them to not turn around and tell you that you had a week’s notice to move out, because ‘the vibes were off’. Apparently Marcia and Todd had found love in each other’s arms, which was awesome for them and sucked for me.

Reason #256 to get a place on my own, but with rent being what it was right now, that wasn’t happening, so I looked at the rental listing on the phone screen then back at the place in front of us, making sure the nice looking suburban house was the one.

Just no cat pee, I thought furiously, as I shut the car door and moved towards the front fence. No bathroom without a door. No cockroach infestations. Shit, the list was starting to get longer and longer, making me feel unreasonable, because Virginia Woolf was missing a few important details. Wanting a room of one’s own was important, but so were basic health standards. Barbie reached over and gave my hand a squeeze, right as I reached up to knock on the front door, only for it to be pulled open.

“Hi!”

A mumsy looking woman with curly blonde hair stood in the doorway, and from the prehistoric animal-like squawks I could hear in the background, the lady wasn’t rocking mumcore clothing as a fashion choice. There had been no mention of kids in the ad.

It’s fine, I told myself, probably because this was the twelfth—or was it the thirteenth—place we’d looked at today? Kids are fine.

“Um… hi?” I waved awkwardly, realised what I was doing, then jammed my hand down. “I’m Kendall. This is Barbie.”

“Not Ken doll,” my bestie supplied helpfully. “People get that mixed up sometimes. I mean Kendall’s the best accessory a girl can have but…” Her voice trailed away as I shot her a dark look.

“Sorry, we’re here about the room for rent?” I said.

“Of course!” The woman stepped back to usher us in. “I’m Janice. I’ll just let you know, we’ve had a lot of interest...” My heart sank through the floor because that was what every person said when we checked out a listing. “But I’ll take you through to have a look.”

It’d be fine. No matter what state the room was, it’d be fine. I could live in someone’s spare room, shove a bed beside boxes of junk if that was what it took to find somewhere temporarily, because the alternative was grim. Living in my car or couch surfing at Barbie’s place.

She and her boyfriend, Alan, lived in a tiny one bedroom apartment closer to the city, but sleeping on someone’s couch was the kind of shit that killed friendships. Well, that and the sounds coming from Barbie’s bedroom when she and her boyfriend, Alan, got it on. I was a grown adult. I had been for some time. I could find somewhere to live and… My ruminations came to an abrupt halt as we walked through a very nice house with high ceilings and crown mouldings, past a big open plan living area with polished wooden floorboards and two gorgeous looking kids who were currently playing with LEGO on the coffee table.

“Hi, lady!” one cherub cheeked child said, waving at me.

“Hi, I’m—”

“Maybe see if you want the place first before introducing yourself to the kids,” Janice said, then crossed the living room floor to open the sliding door onto the garden.

Was she showing us the yard first? I glanced at my bestie, and she stared back. Either she was having serious second thoughts about the kebab she ate last night, or her gut was telling her bad, bad things about this place.

I wished it was only diarrhoea on Barbie’s mind as we stepped out into a cute backyard. There were a few trees, garden beds chock full of pretty flowers, and a shed. A shed Janice made a beeline towards. Why would she be showing us that first? I surreptitiously looked at my phone, wondering if yard work was part of the tenancy agreement. Wannabe landlords put all sorts of things in agreements nowadays because they knew they were in a position of strength.

And we weren’t.

That message couldn’t have been made clearer when Janice opened the shed door with a flourish and a bright smile.

“The ‘room’ is fully self contained,” she said brightly. “You have everything you need out here. And with access to the road via the gate, you needn’t come into the house at all…”

Her words faded away. I couldn’t process any of them, because the sight of what she was offering for $350 a week slapped me across the face.

The listing had to have been Photoshopped, or perhaps the sight of old Astroturf laid down as carpet across the shed floor just hadn’t registered inside my head as I stared. An old metal shed, with no insulation or internal walls, had been ‘renovated’ to become a granny flat. A mattress had been set up on a couple of old wooden shipping pallets, the brand Chep clearly printed on the sides, and then there was—

“Is that a portaloo?”

The high, hysterical sound of Barbie’s voice was a perfect expression of the sharp whine inside my head. I’d seen things like this on social media, read reports of the depths people were prepared to go to try and make an extra buck, but…

“$350 for this…” I squeaked out.

The woman’s welcoming expression changed in an instant, her eyes hardening, her lips thinning down.

“Well, in today’s market—”

“It pays not to be a total dick,” Barbie snapped. Her acrylic nails clacked as she wrapped them around my arm and then used her grip to start hauling me out of the shed.

“We’ve had plenty of interest!” Janice said as I was quickly walked out of the garden and down the driveway which was apparently the only means in and out of the property. Servants used to use their own doors in grand houses, but I would get what? A muddy, gravel lined path to the shed?

“Better rent it to one of them!” Barbie shot back, not taking a full breath until she’d had me on the other side of the gate, the latch clattering with the force she used to yank it closed. “We’re going. You’re staying with Alan and me—”

“No.” I shook my head, thankfully dispelling the high pitched sound that seemed to fill my skull. “I’ll find somewhere.” She shot me an empathetic look. “I will. I’m looking right now.”

I picked up my phone and jumped on the website where most people listed rooms to rent, my heart rate picking up as I scrolled. If I could just get in first, be the first person to turn up to an inspection of a place in my price range, then I’d find a place, I would. My thumb hovered over the screen, scrolling, scrolling until I found this.

“Oh my god…” I hissed.

“What?” Barbie thrust her face forward, forcing me to yank the device away. “What? For fuck’s sake, girl, stop with the foreplay and…” She let out a sigh when she saw the listing, and I did the same. It was a nice place in the suburbs. A little further out than I wanted to go, but I’d suffer the commute to live here. The neat garden, the white picket fence, the goddamn pool that shone turquoise blue. “Put it in,” she breathed out, snatching my phone from me. “Put it all the way in. Damn, this place is—”

“Amazing?” I plucked my phone from her grip and then skimmed the ad, looking at the details now.

“That price…” She sighed. “That pool… Ken, I could see us sunning out there on a summer’s day, sipping margaritas. You gotta call them. You have to.”

But my nose wrinkled when I saw the actual description of the place.

Three guys looking for a housemate. Prefer females, the text read and that forced my eyes up. Barbie’s were all shiny, just as blue as the pool in the photos, and I hated to be the one to kill her excitement.

“It’s a bunch of guys who only want to share with a woman,” I told her. “You and I know what that’s code for.”

“You don’t know that,” she said.

“A bang maid. Someone to cook, clean, and suck their dicks,” I said, about to shove my phone into my pocket. Maybe I could fall on my knees and beg Marcia and Todd for the opportunity to stay. I’d pay more rent. I’d soundproof my room to drown out the sex noises. I’d— But Barbie was not about to be denied. Her fingers had my phone out of my hand in seconds, and then she tapped on the contact details.

“Barbie…!” My yelp had the front curtains of Janice’s place twitching, the woman peering out at us from behind the window with a scowl. “Shit, we need to get out of here before Janice calls the cops or something.”

“Hi, is this Connor?” she said, forcing me to hiss profanities under my breath. She held up a hand, blocking me with startling skill as I tried to snatch the device back. “Yeah, I’m calling about the ad for the room for a friend of mine.”

“Barbie, if you don’t give me my fucking phone back…” I whispered.

“Their name?” She looked at me with a slow smirk. “It’s Ken. That’s the address? We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” When she finished the call, she handed me my phone with a smirk. “Get in the car, bitch,” she said, “we’re gonna find you somewhere to live.”