“Gotta go, bye!” I called, teasing her and closing the connection.
She’d laugh the rest of the day. I would too. Mom really thought I was a smooth operator and would have lured the partner of my choice to my bed and my life in the first two days I was here.
I hadn’t even been to the bar down the street yet. Moving, new job, creating the audiobooks—I was exhausted.
Pollux, thankfully, had decided he was done pissing on every tree and hydrant. He did his business near the curb and I quickly picked it up with the bio-degradable bag, and chucked it in the trash bin on the corner.
I headed up the stairs with my dog, and stopped dead on the landing for my floor. There, on the common billboard, was my apartment number written in red at the top of a piece of paper.
One week. Just one week and they already didn’t like me?
I walked up to the paper and my eyebrows hit the top of my hairline at the message. It was actually…really well drawn.
Dear Neighbor in 302—
I appreciate you being an animal lover, but most people agree that a barking dog at three a.m. negates most of that love and appreciation. Sorry, but you got to keep him quiet.
Your neighbor,
301
And there under the short note was a picture of what was clearly a German Shepherd, looking sad and sporting a very dog-friendly basket muzzle.
Which also meant that the artist, no doubt my neighbor 301, didn’t really want me to muzzle Pollux, but to generally shut him up.
I took the sheet off the bulletin board and shoved it in my back pocket and stepped to my door. Unlocking and stepping inside, I eyed the dog.
“Dude. Are you barking in the middle of the night?” I asked him. As if he could answer me. He dropped his haunches to the ground and stared at me.
How could he be barking in the middle of the night and I couldn’t hear it? That was bad on several different, important levels. Pollux was a good guard dog. Very good. He had an instinct for not barking at just anything and everything, so when he did, there was usually an actual threat. And next, I wasn’t waking up to his accurate barking. That scared me because if I didn’t wake up to his bark, what said that I would ever hear the smoke alarm, or someone busting in the front door?
I was a rural kid, and I had to talk myself out of thinking that everyone was going to break into my apartments. Pollux helped that.
Taking his leash off, I refilled his water bowl and sat down at the small folding table that served as a kitchen table. I pulled the note out of my pocket and studied it.
The art was actually really cute. The dog looked like he was sad and sorry at the same time, and it was clear that the artist in 301 didn’t want to go to the landlord about me.
Of course, 301 could have just knocked on the door and talked to me. That would’ve been the polite and neighborly thing to do, instead of calling me out like that. I wondered if anyone else had seen it.
I also wondered if 301 was home and we could chat about this in person. Glancing at Pollux, slopping water all over the floor as usual, I nodded. “Let’s see if we can solve this like a gentleman.”
Just as my hand wrapped around the doorknob, I froze. What if the artist in 301 was like the last boyfriend I had? What if he was like Ed? What if he took my innocent request to talk as some kind of invitation? If anything happened to him, or I was in the house with him alone for too long, it would be Boston Conservatory all over again.
So I chickened out. Again.
It seemed ridiculous for the star linebacker of his high school football team to be just such a fucking chicken about facing a neighbor. But all I could think of was how I’d barely made it out Boston with my degree.
Forget my dignity, that had been shredded.
I chewed on my lip. Now what the hell did I do? I had to deal with the barking and the complaint, but I was stuck behind the wall of my own damn fears.
I glanced at Pollux who was now dutifully licking his butt. I rolled my eyes, and sat back down at the table. Tapping my finger on the note, I studied it.
A moment later, I grabbed a pen and some paper. I wasn’t such a bad artist myself.
* * *
“Are you liking the city?”Sorcha asked, spinning a knob on the sound equipment.
