In the more than 10 years that I’ve been dragging out writing this novel (it’s complete in the basest sense; I’m currently doing a final edit/revision/expansion), I’ve never really sat down and fleshed out how Lorenzo’s apartment looks, although I know exactly how it looks.
It starts with what is now Deco at CNB. The first time I saw what was then the abandoned headquarters of Central National Bank, I said I wanted to live there. As I said in the previous entry in the regular blog side of this, I can’t because it opened when it wasn’t conducive to me moving in and our next place has to be a house because of our dog. Honestly, I wish I could break our lease with minimum penalty to get my dog into a house with a yard now. But that’s a story for the viaduct, not Project 792.
Anyway, Lorenzo’s apartment is in The Council Aire, which is about half the size of that building and stands at 11 stories. Lorenzo lives on the 10th in Apartment 1040A, despite there only being three apartments on the penultimate floor. He and his friends lovingly call it “The Tax Suite.”
The Council Aire was a hotel that was converted into an upscale condo building that went belly up and became luxury apartments. Given his salary as a reporter, Lorenzo normally wouldn’t have been able to live there if not for the Tax Suite. The other option would have been to have a semi-illegal roommate like his coworker Nicole Cobb.
The 10th floor only has three apartments because the building tapers and because the penthouse has two floors. One third of the 10th floor is the first floor of the penthouse. Another third is a large apartment that has an unusually high price point because of its height and some added details to further justify the price. One third of the middle third is the elevator, and a small lobby for Apartment 1000, a maintenance room labeled 1001, Apartment 1040 (the penthouse) and Apartment 1040A.
When the building was a condo, 1040A was the servant’s quarters for 1040.
1040A is has a sitcom-style fourth wall, much like my previous apartment. There’s a solid expanse of flat, blank wall from the door to the balcony that separates it from Apartment 1000. Lorenzo knows 1000 is occupied, but never has seen them. He’s actually friends with the penthouse owners, Harrison and Christine Crowder. They’re in their late 50s. Next to the door in a small foyer is a coat closet. Next is the kitchen. There there is a living/dining area that opens to a balcony overlooking the river and downtown. There are solid walls on both sides of the balcony, which runs the width of the apartment, and a roof over it that is the floor of the penthouse’s terrace. Unfortunately, there still is a point in the penthouse where one can peer into the balcony. Lorenzo found that out after months of standing on his naked and once having sex on it. It made him question why the Crowders made friends with him. Next to the kitchen is a hallway that dead ends. There’s an obvious wall covering what used to be at door leading to 1040. The kitchen side of the hallway has the utility room and a bathroom that also contains the linen closet and washer and dryer. The other side is Lorenzo’s bedroom. It’s a little under 850 square feet.
That’s about the size of my current one-bedroom apartment, so it’s not cramped. It’s just small compared with the rest of the development, e.g., Nicole’s one-bedroom contains a “den” that’s large enough for her roommate to live comfortably. She also has a closet. The catch is that the den doesn’t have any external windows, thus rendering it not a legal bedroom.
This is the first time I’ve written this all down, unlike the elaborate schematics of Lorenzo’s family home, Rosewood, that I have drawn and revised since December 1998.