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And that was without taking into account my debt and crippling insomnia that would probably kill me one day. Not that insomnia was necessarily fatal, but I was currently relying on sleeping pills, which, apparently, I read somewhere, increased the mortality rate. The thought of death didn’t depress me. Wherever I went after I died had to at least be better than this.
But until then…
“I guess it’s just you and me, Roscoe,” I said as I started the long walk back to my house.
TWO
EZRA
I watched the girl and her dog as they retreated to their home. It wasn’t my first time seeing her. The day I drove into the cul-de-sac to meet the landlady I was renting this house from, I heard loud music coming from three houses over.
I frowned as I got out of the car. I was told this was a retirement community, and I expected peace and quiet. The tiny white-haired landlady walked over to meet me in the driveway and followed my gaze, scorn twisting her expression.
“Ugh, it’s that damn C13 again. You’d want to avoid her,” the woman said, her nose turning up derisively at the thought.
I couldn’t help but wonder what C13 had done to garner such a reaction.
“Does she always play the music that loud?” I asked because I was a guy who valued silence.
The landlady shrugged. “Sometimes,” she answered. “Usually when that boyfriend of hers comes over. But you won’t have to worry about her for too long. She’s one violation away from a very big fine that could get her evicted immediately.” She turned to me with a conspiratorial look. “I’ve been documenting all her infractions this whole time, and I went to the town hall. I nearly have enough to get rid of her once and for all.” She practically chortled at the thought. “She’s lucky. If not for her mama buying the place, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Mmm,” was all I said. I wasn’t interested in the girl’s life story as long as she didn’t play this crap music when I was home. The music sounded like a strange amalgamation of rap and rock.
“Yes,” she said, sniffing disdainfully. “She and those deadbeat friends of hers like to come around sometimes and throw parties and disturb the peace. Everyone in the neighborhood is sick of her. And if she makes trouble, make sure you call me. I can add it to my infraction list, and then she’ll be gone sooner than you think.” The woman nearly cackled at the thought.
Just then, C13’s door flung open, and two people emerged, gesturing animatedly. The boy was tall and lanky, and the girl was petite, wearing quite possibly the shortest sleep shorts I’d ever seen in my life. Her legs were lean but curvy, strength displayed in the lines of her calves. The man towered over her by at least a foot, but she stood her ground, crossing her hand over her chest and raising an eyebrow. She was quiet as he ranted, simply shaking her head at intervals. And then, when he was done talking, she pointed to the driveway where a beat-up sedan was parked and spoke slowly. Even from far away, I could read exactly what she said.
Get lost.
I couldn’t hear the rest of what they were saying, but I could get an idea. She was likely telling him to kick rocks, but the man wasn’t trying to hear that.
“Come on,” Mrs. Abernathy said, waving toward our door. “Let’s go inside before they see us.”
I didn’t move, still watching the couple. The man looked pissed as all get-out, pissed enough to lash out at the petite woman. I wanted to make sure that if he did, I was here.
But instead, the two of them continued their standoff, staring at each other for a few more seconds before he threw his hands up in the air. He turned and stormed to his car, nearly tearing the door off as he got in. In no time at all, he was zipping out of the parking lot like a crazy person.
After he left, the woman turned around and walked back into her home, agitation in her every step. The raucous music turned off almost immediately.
Good. Seemed like the problem sorted itself out.
I finally followed Mrs. Abernathy into the home.
After that, I never thought I would meet my petite little neighbor again, much less under such circumstances. After all, I was only going to be in town for a few days at most, and I wasn’t exactly a neighborly sort. I wasn’t planning on attending any community meetings, and I chose this neighborhood simply because I thought everyone would leave me the fuck alone.
But then, this morning, as I was getting ready to go for my morning jog, I came out to find her little monster dog on his mission of destruction. He looked up at me when I walked out, almost out of curiosity, and then let out a little yip.
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” I started toward him, but he danced out of the way, then gave another yip.
“I’m not playing with you, dog,” I warned him, but he seemed determined to play anyway, skipping sideways over the destroyed rose bushes with his tongue hanging out. And then he had the audacity to reach down and yank another shrub out with his teeth as though taunting me.
That was when I was done.
He was fast, I’d give him that, but ten years of Navy training wasn’t for nothing. Thirty seconds into our foray, I finally caught him by the harness and yanked him up, only to have him give the most Oscar-winning performance ever, hollering like a damn coyote, throwing himself around, and acting like I was damn near torturing it.
I held him away from me and read his tag, which helpfully had the address on it. That was how I figured out he belonged to C13, and I marched him back to her, ready to give her hell for letting him onto other people’s property like that. I didn’t give a damn if everyone else in this neighborhood let her get away with her bad behavior. I wasn’t one to let it slide.
But seeing C13 in person was a lot different than seeing her from a few houses away.
