I looked at the little apartment. My little apartment. True, it didn’t look like much, but this would be my first home.
I’d moved to Newcrest when I’d heard about the artist-housing program they were starting. In an effort to make the town more ‘hot and happening’ among the younger crowd, they’d built a bunch of small, cheap apartments specifically targeted towards young artists. Painters, writers, comedian, actors, or musicians, like myself, came flooding to Newcrest. When I told my dad about my plan to be a musician instead of a respectable lawyer or doctor, he freaked out and decided to cease all contact with me. Not that I cared, our relationship had been strained for years. Basically since my mom’s death.
Although the apartment wasn’t much (it was the cheapest model there was), the plot of land was huge and the area was lovely. I could see myself living here for a while, especially with bigger towns like Willowcreek nearby. I was never one to doubt my decisions, but this time, I was definitely sure I’d made the right one. A place for myself, a chance to focus on my music… That was all I needed.
I walked up to the house, taking out my key and using it for the very first time. The house still smelled strongly of the dark, muddy paint that coated the walls. It really wasn’t much – dark and cramped – but it was a start. At least I had four walls and a roof over my head. And really, what more could I need?
I got on my computer, the one I’d had since I was thirteen, and checked my e-mail. I got a message from my new boss, the manager of the band I’d become an assistant for. I was supposed to start tomorrow afternoon. I was kind of bummed that I couldn’t start playing my own music right away, but I guess you’ve got to pay your dues.
I picked up my guitar and started playing a few tunes. That was the one thing that could always make me feel at home, anywhere I went. Just me, the feeling of strings under my fingers and the sounds I was producing. This would be great. I just knew it.
After a while, I decided I might go out and explore the area a little bit. Since I had the entire next morning off, why not hop over to Willowcreek and grab a few drinks? There’d probably be a few attractive ladies there… I didn’t take after my dad much, but the Italian Casanova thing definitely ran in the family.
A while later I sat down on a barstool in the Blue Velvet. I waved the bartender over. “Can I get a Bridgeport, please? On the rocks.”
“Make that two, please,” a sultry voice behind me said.
A woman sat down on the stool next to me. “Hi there. I’m Charlotte. Are you new around here?”
She smiled and shook my hand. “Hi Charlotte,” I grinned back, “I’m Matteo Fiore. But you can call me Matt. I just moved to Newcrest, actually.”
“Well hello, Mr. Fiore,” she giggled, “Newcrest, huh? So you must be some kind of artist?”
“Yeah, I’m a guitar player.” Immediately, I could see her eyes light up. Tell chicks that you’re a musician, and they’ll throw themselves at you. Something I happily profited from.
“So is your girlfriend okay with you going out to bars without her?” Charlotte asked. “Oh, I’m a single man. Though I could definitely use some… female hospitality.” I let my eyes run over her body, focusing on her big breasts in her tight sweater.
“I think I can give you some of that,” she whispered, looking at me from under her eyelashes
A few drinks later, we moved over to a quiet corner to talk.
And a few more drinks later, we really weren’t talking at all anymore…
That night, I shared my bed for the first time in my new apartment. Hey, what better way to ring in a new life, right?