Chapter 3 - Enter the TigerForty-five minutes later, the luxury high-rise lobby on 18th Avenue looked less like an upscale residence and more like a war zone.
Barbara had hauled her fifteen suitcases directly into the center of the marble-floored lobby, screaming at the concierge in a screeching, operatic register that could shatter glass. Beside her, Chloe was live-streaming the entire meltdown on her phone, tears streaming mascara down her cheeks as she sobbed about human rights violations.
And right in the middle of it all stood Mia.
The 22-year-old Instagram model hadn't bothered to change out of her sheer silk slip. She had thrown an oversized designer trench coat over it, her blonde hair caught in a messy bun, holding a steaming designer coffee cup like a weapon.
“Get these deranged hillbillies out of my hallway!” Mia shrieked, pointing a manicured finger directly at Barbara’s nose. “This is a $4,000-a-month private lease! I don’t know who your sugar daddy son is, but he’s a broke psycho, and you are trespassing!”
“Broke?!” Barbara lunged forward, her diamond-encrusted rings flashing in the lobby lights. “I am the mother of a multi-millionaire tech executive! You’re just a cheap parasite living off my son’s hard-earned success! I demand the master bedroom right now!”
“Your son?” Mia barked out a shrill, hysterical laugh. “Your son hasn't paid rent in two months! The landlord sent a final notice yesterday! He told me he bought this place for me so I wouldn't have to look at his boring, middle-aged wife!”
The lobby fell into a stunned, breathless silence. Chloe stopped streaming, her phone lowering slowly. Barbara froze mid-motion, her claw-like hand hovering an inch from Mia’s face.
Just then, the glass double doors of the lobby swung open, and Jason stepped inside, looking like a man walking the green mile.
“Mom... Chloe... Mia... please, everyone, just stop,” Jason pleaded, holding his hands up in a universal gesture of surrender.
Barbara whipped her head around, her eyes blazing with a fury that could incinerate steel. She marched across the lobby, reared back her arm, and delivered a resounding, bone-rattling slap across Jason’s cheek that echoed off the high ceilings.
“You lying, good-for-nothing parasite!” Barbara roared, her voice cracking with pure venom. “You lied to me! You lied to your sister! You spent our retirement money on a skank while we were sleeping on a pull-out couch?!”
Jason clutched his stinging cheek, humiliation burning in his eyes as a dozen residents and the concierge watched the entire spectacle unfold. But the nightmare was only just beginning.
From the elevators stepped two burly men in identical dark suits, holding large cardboard moving boxes.
“Jason Vance?” the lead man asked flatly, checking a clipboard.
May you like
“Y-yes?” Jason stammered.
“Eviction notice and writ of possession. The lease has been terminated for default and fraudulent financial backing. You have twenty minutes to clear all personal property from Unit 1804, or it goes out on the curb.”
