by Emilia Finn
“It’s the weekend,” he rumbles on a soft laugh. “I’m home with my girl, it’s past dinnertime, and I’m about to go to bed. That’s why.”
“I don’t have anyone to go to bed with, Ang.”
He barks out a loud laugh. “I’m not gonna be that person for you, kid. What’s up? You’ve got five minutes.”
“What’s up with that chick?”
“Which chick?” He lets out a grunt, like he’s standing from the couch. Then he moves around his home and away from a low droning television. “Who are you terrorizing? Because whoever she is, she doesn’t wanna be in your bed either.”
I roll my eyes and set my dinner aside. “My new neighbor, Ang. She’s skittish like a feral cat.”
“Nora?” Gone is the smile from his voice. Gone is the laughter. “You need to leave her alone.”
“But why? No one is explaining anything to me. I move in, all innocent bystander and shit, I meet this chick that flips her damn lid over seemingly nothing, and every time I’ve seen her since, it gets worse. We just had a shouting match in the damn hall, and I’ve never done that! I don’t argue with people, boss. I just walk.”
“You never argue,” he agrees.
He knows I’m too damn chill for that nonsense. If someone wants to scream at me, I can easily turn and walk the other way. No one is worth a shouting match – in public or private. But now this skittish chick has got me calling her names and shouting in the damn stairwell like some kind of idiot in a wifebeater.
“What’s going on over there, Chuck? What the fuck is up with that?”
“I don’t know! That’s what I’m asking you. Who is she? Why is she so scared? Why has she got your protection? Kane’s, Mac’s? Why does everyone know her except me?”
“Because you didn’t go to school here,” he sighs. “You don’t know her because you weren’t in that school when it all went down.”
“When what went down? For fuck’s sake, Ang. Give me some context so I can handle this ticking bomb a little easier. She’s a loose cannon, and one night, if I’m taking the trash out in the dark, she’s gonna shoot me dead. I honestly don’t feel all that safe.”
“She’s not stupid, Chuck. You’re fine.”
“She’s a skittish chick with a fucking gun and an attack dog!”
“She’s a competently trained marksman…” I can almost hear the frown in his voice. “Markswoman? Whatever. She’s been at Spence’s firing range, and training under either Kane or Jay for years. Literally, only those two have trained her. Trust me, she ain’t gonna shoot off a round by accident, and if she aims for you, you’re already dead.”
“That’s comforting,” I drawl.
“She’s not gonna shoot you unless you intend to hurt her, and you’re not gonna hurt her, because you’re not stupid. Leave her alone, don’t keep her awake at ass-backwards hours by hosting parties, become predictable in your movements, and don’t put the trash out in the dark. It ain’t so hard.”
“You’re asking me to change my fucking life for someone I don’t even know. Everyone wants me to take her into consideration, but no one will explain why. This is bullshit.”
“You only have to stay there until renovations on the apartment above the garage are complete,” he points out. “Then you can come back, and your life can go back to normal. Until then, just don’t be a shitty neighbor. It shouldn’t be this fucking dramatic.”
I settle into the back of my couch and groan. “Are you gonna explain what happened to her?”
“No. You know my ass ain’t gonna gossip.”
“On a scale of a stubbed toe, to really fuckin’ messed up, what are we talking about here?”
“Really fuckin’ messed up,” he rumbles. “She just wants to live a quiet life, okay? She works, she lives, she walks her dog, and hangs out with her friends. That’s a hell of a lot more than she used to do, so don’t undo it. There are a lot of people invested in her happiness, so don’t ruin that.”
“I think I ruined some of it tonight,” I admit on a murmur. “Her dog was ready to tear my balls off – a-fucking-gain, you should know. I scared her in the hall, her dog was readying to end my life, and when she wouldn’t tell him to stand down, I…”
“You what?” he growls.
“I told him to.”
“Dude!”
“And he did,” I confess. “He sat, and stopped with the snapping teeth.”
“Chuck!”
“It was instinct, okay? He was snapping at me! And I want it on record that I was scared too. I’m allowed to be scared. She doesn’t get the market share on that shit. He was gonna kill me, boss. I told her to tell him to back off, but she refused. So I told him to stop.”
“And he did?”
I nod. “I think I broke her heart. Because he sat the fuck down and stopped growling. She started crying.”
“You made her cry? What the fuck is wrong with you, Chuck? Jesus!” he grunts. “Of all the dudes in town that could have moved in across from her, you were the safe bet! You were the one I never would have pegged as giving her trouble, but now you’re making her cry?”
“I didn’t mean to do it, boss! It was instinct for me to tell him to sit. I didn’t think he actually would.”
“And now she’s crying?”
I clear my throat and close my eyes. And yet, I see her in my mind. “She didn’t do the girly drama cry. But I saw her eyes. I saw that I hurt her.”
“Fucking hell,” he growls. “You’re undoing a lot of people’s hard work, Chuck. You know that scale you asked about? Stubbed toe to real messed up?”
“Mm?”
“You know what happened to Laine?”
“Ang…” My breath comes out on a hitching exhale. “No… she… no.”
Laine – his wife – was sold in a filthy club to filthy men. She was hurt, bought, used, sold, and marked.
“Not the same,” he adds in a rush. “But Nora has her own brand of trauma from that same time, the same club, those same people. You need to leave her the fuck alone, let her heal. Just…” He sighs. “Just leave her alone. That’s all she wants.”
“To be alone?”
“Right. She’s been in that apartment block for a couple years now, and you’re the first person to give her trouble.”
“I don’t mean to,” I argue softly. “I literally never set out to bother her. We just end up in the hall at the same time, she’s skittish, and shit explodes.”
“Maybe you need to start wearing a bell,” he jokes. “Like a cat. That way you won’t scare her anymore.”
“Not funny.” Bringing a hand up, I press the heel into my eye and groan. “Fine. I have context. Sorta. A little, anyway. You need to hurry those renovations up, Ang. I didn’t ask for this inconvenience in my life.”
He chuckles. “It’s going, Chuck. You see them working every single day, so now you gotta be patient. Are we good now?”
“Yeah. I’ll try to be quieter and shit.”
“She’s a little better in the daylight,” he adds. “Once nighttime comes, she gets a little edgy. But in the day, you could almost jump out in a clown suit.”
“You’re just trying to get me killed.” I roll my eyes. “That’s a suicide mission if I ever heard one.”
He laughs. “Yeah, don’t go out and buy a clown suit. You won’t survive it. Alright, your five minutes is up, and my girl just stepped out of the shower. I’m done with you.”
“No love. I was yours before she was. I want that on record.”
“She’s been mine since we were kids, but nice try.” Fuck him for the kissing sound that comes through the phone. A gentle peck, and then the sound of springs moving in a mattress. “Chuck says hey.”
I smile when she takes the phone.
“How are you doing, handsome?”
“Hey, Mami. I’m a little sad.”
“What?” Her tone changes in an instant, from smiling to worry. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t listen to h
im,” Ang complains. “He’s pouting.”
“I’m eating dinner all alone,” I reply. “I asked Ang to ask you to come eat with me, but you’re not here.”
“He didn’t pass on the message! Angelo!”
“Ouch! Chuck!”
Pleased with myself, I scoop up my dinner and slowly pick through the pieces of chicken. “Love you.”
Laine gives a happy sigh and settles into bed. “Love you too. See you tomorrow? I miss your face.”
“I’ll come looking for you. Save me a smooshy hug.”
“Always. Goodnight, Tucker. Sweet dreams.”
“I’ll be thinking of you.”
She only laughs and passes the phone.
“You gotta stop flirting with my wife, motherfucker.”
“But she’s so pretty. She’s kinda like a mom and a siren in one, yeah? She gives me the mom hugs, but when she does that, she doesn’t feel like a mom, ya know? She feels like a chick I wouldn’t mind fighting you for.”
“Asshole. You gotta keep your eyes to yourself, or I’ll rip your nuts out and bury them in the forest. Don’t test me.”
“Pfft.” I scoff. “You don’t have the nards for that kinda badassery. You just need to sit down and let the big dog speak.”
“Goodnight, Tucker. You can sit in your apartment, alone, while I’m in bed with Laine. Now who has nards?”
“Burn!” Laughing, I toss another piece of chicken into my mouth and shake my head. “Jesus, Ang. That was a solid burn. Go, bang my wife. You live for today. I might go knock on Nora’s door.”
“Don’t you dare!” he roars. “Dammit, Chuck. You leave her alone.”
“I was kidding. Geez. ‘Night, boss. Catch you tomorrow.”
Nora
Work
The next morning, with a half-empty coffee cup in my hand, my dog appropriately chastised on obeying anyone that isn’t me, and my Glock safely holstered, I step out of my apartment to collect the paper, only to stop with a squeak when the door across the hall opens at the same time.
Tucker Morris stops with surprise. He wears much the same as he wore last night: torn jeans, and a black shirt that grips his chest with a little too much fervor. He also wears socks, but no shoes, a hat pulled low over his eyes, and he holds a chipped coffee mug in his left hand.
He studies me, almost like he’s unsure if I’m going to attack, but when I say nothing, he gives a tentative smile. “Good morning.”
Bending, he collects the paper from the ground and tucks it under his arm. When I still say nothing, he takes a step into the hall – a slow, deliberate step – and studies my face.
“Um… truce? I don’t wanna be your enemy, Nora.”
“How…” I clear my throat and rest my hand on Galileo’s head when he nudges forward. “How do you know my name?”
“I asked around.” Another step. Slow. Deliberate. “We got off to a rough start, and I realized we have a couple mutual friends, so I asked.”
“What did you ask?” My heart races when he takes a third step and stops at the top of the stairs. “Did you… uh…”
“I just asked who the chick is that lives in 4A. I work with Mac… and you know Mac, right?”
I nod. “He’s my friend.”
Gone is his tentative smile, and in its place, a smirk. “Exactly. So I told him I got this new neighbor, and she wants to murder me dead because I was noisy one night, and he said something about how Nora is a badass that kicks ass.”
I hate the heat that warms my face. “He didn’t say that.” Did he?
He only shrugs. “How do you know my name? You’ve called me Tucker Morris a couple times, but I never told you that. Hell, most of my friends don’t even know my real name.”
I shrug in return. “I make it a point to know who lives near me. It’s no big deal. Um…” I step back when he steps forward. “Can you stop that?” I swallow when he stops. “Stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. Stop with the slow steps like you think I don’t notice.”
“Okay.” He moves back a step. “Sorry. I… uh… I’m a decent guy, I swear. I like to think of myself as honorable-ish.”
“Honorable-ish?”
He nods. “Like, I won’t beat on a girl, I won’t hurt them, I won’t leave them in the middle of the woods after… ya know, being mutually dishonorable together. I take care of people.”
He fucks people outside. That’s what he’s saying. But when he’s done, he makes sure she gets home.
“Okay.”
“I cuss a lot, I fart sometimes, and some women I’ve known in the past might mention that my manners are lacking when I’m… overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed.” I frown. “Like how?”
He swallows. “Like last night when a scary dog was threatening me. I don’t normally shout, Nora. And I don’t call people names. I especially don’t call women names, and super-especially not that B-word.”
“Super-especially?” My lips twitch. “Okay.”
“So, I’m sorry. I was hangry – ya know, like, so hungry I was angry. I had the jitters from low blood sugar. I was tired after a long day. I have this new neighbor that wants to kill me every time we pass in the hall, and last night was kind of an explosion of bad moods for both of us.”
“You apologized.”
“Yes, that’s the point of this. I wanna say I’m sor—”
“No.” I scratch Galileo’s ears when he sits by my leg. “Last night. You apologized.”
“Yeah, I did. It was the right thing to do.”
“But…” I study the dark shadows that cover his square jaw. “Objectively speaking, I was in the wrong. I snapped first, I threatened you, I got mad because you were using a communal set of stairs.”
He nods.
“I was completely in the wrong. But you still apologized.”
Finally, he shrugs. “Sometimes, people are having a tough time, and though they don’t mean to be mean, they can’t help it. Sometimes, their demons are scarier than mine, and they’re doing their best in a bad situation. My apology cost me nothing but a fortune cookie and twenty seconds of my time. But…” Another shrug. “I guess I’m hoping it helped you.”
He nibbles on his bottom lip while he studies me. “I don’t wanna fight with you. I especially don’t wanna walk on eggshells in my new home. I don’t want to be the reason you’re upset. So I shared my fortune cookies, I apologized…” He smiles for real. A big, whole-faced, charming smile that makes my heart skip. “And now you’re talking to me. I guess that makes my cookie sacrifice worth it.”
“I’m sorry for shouting at you.” I clear my throat. “And for calling you a prick.”
He chuckles. “I’ve been called worse. Pals?” He extends a hand, but doesn’t take a step forward, so his offering remains hanging in the space between us. “I promise not to knock on your door to ask for sugar, and I swear to be super considerate if I come home late. Homes are our special spaces, and I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable in yours.”
I study his hand. His muscled arm. His chest. Then his eyes. “I’m not gonna shake your hand.”
“Oh?” His brow wings up on a sharp angle. He drops his hand. “Okay. I mean, you certainly don’t have to.”
“But we can agree to a truce.”
He smiles. “Deal.”
“No sugar.”
His smile doesn’t falter. “Scout’s honor. I will never, not once for the rest of time, knock on your door and ask for sugar.”
I hate that I have to fight my smile. Why must I be so stubborn? “Okay. Thank you for this.”
He leans against the stair banister like he thinks I’m gonna chit-chat. “You heading out to work now? It’s still kinda early.”
“No. I was coming out for my newspaper.” I look down at the ground – void of papers. “But I guess someone stole it.” And the moment I go inside, I intend to check my security feed to find my thief. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You can have mine.” He pulls it from under hi
s arm and offers it. “Free and clear.”
“Oh… no. It’s fine. Come, Galileo.”
“Nora.” His sharp voice stops me in my tracks, but when my gaze comes up, his smile puts me at ease. “Have mine.” He tosses it, so I’m forced to catch. “If the thief steals mine tomorrow, you can drop this one back over and I’ll catch up.”
“Um…” I glance into my mug, my cooling coffee, and nod. “Okay. Thanks.”
“See you around.” And with that, he turns on his socks and steps back inside his apartment. He closes the door, not a slam, but not quiet either, and leaves me in the hall with my mouth agape.
In a trance, I reverse and go back inside my apartment. I close the door, wait for the sound of the locks engaging, and, taking my coffee and Tucker’s newspaper to my desk, I sit down and simply… breathe for a moment.
“Damn. He’s… I’ve…” I look to Galileo as he sits by my leg and looks up into my eyes. “I’m confused, buddy. I don’t like being confused.”
In answer, he lays his head on my thigh and exhales.
Running my hands over my face, I drop them again and switch my computer on. Just a minute later, I pull up the footage of the security feed that Checkmate set up in this building the day I moved in.
Or, more accurately, weeks before I moved in. Their way of making me feel comfortable in a new space.
I navigate to the camera I need – I have many, in every hall of this building, on the main door on the street, and another on the outside of the building so I can see the street, and no, they’re not legal. When I catch sight of my front door, my newspaper sitting just outside where it should be, I fast forward through an hour of footage.
No one moves up the stairs. No one comes down. No movement is registered until Tucker’s door opens. In boxer shorts and socks, he peeks at my door, at the stairs, then down at himself. When the coast is clear, he dashes into the hall and under the camera so his broad back is all I see for a moment. He snatches my paper, and then scrambles back across the hall. He drops the paper in front of his door, and sprints back into his apartment like he thinks he’s a sneaky thief.
