Pretty Boy Tommy Martin

About a week later, I'm meeting with a potential roommate at my door. He's a tall pretty boy, with a long flow of blonde hair, watery blue eyes, and a smile most women would find disarming. The polo shirt and slacks makes him look like some country club dork, but then again, country club dorks have plenty of money and can keep their **** habits under control.

"You must be Tom?'

"Yeah. Roxy?" He says.

"That's me."

"Pleasure to meet you. Nice hair by the way."

"Thanks. Well, come on in."

I give pretty boy the tour, showing him around the place, starting with the kitchen on the right. That leads to the dining room. Then we walk through the door on the right into the living room. Once done we loop back to the passageway, where I show him the bathroom wedged between the living room and kitchen. Finally, I show him the guest bedroom, which could be his. It's probably not as fancy as he's used to, but to my surprise, he seems happy enough with the place. Once we're done, I sit at the dining table.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"So what do you think of the place?"

"I like it to be honest."

"Cool. Just got a few questions for you."

"Go ahead."

"Any criminal history?" Truth be told, I'd already done a background check, but it's always good to ask.

"Just a DUI."

"Who hasn't got one of those, right?"

Pretty Boy and I share a chuckle. At least he's not afraid to make fun of himself.

"Well, I just say that because my last roommate was a fuckhead, and got into trouble. That's why you're here."

"Okay." My profanity seems to come as a slight shock to him, judging by the stunned look on his face.

"So what about employment?"

"I tend bars around the place."

"That stable work?"

"Yeah."

"How about parties? I like to have friends around and all that."

A smile lights up his face. "Always down for a good time."

"Cool. I'm guessing the bartending thing means odd hours?"

"It can, yeah."

"That's cool. We'll just have to communicate."

"Of course."

"Anything else I should know?"

"When can I move in?"

"Just need you to fill this bad boy out."

I push the piece of paper I had waiting for him on the table. On it is a roommate agreement that he swiftly fills in.

"So, tomorrow good?" He asks.

"Tomorrow's fine."