This was the attitude I dealt with on a daily basis. It was like living next door to a disgruntled postal worker, only more hostile.
“And? Did you?” I asked, careful to keep my face covered in my pullover hoodie.
“Did I what?” She spun around to face me, and my pulse quickened. God, how I loved riling her up. Dani was one of those law-and-order girls who thought the universe revolved around her, when in reality, she was just getting in its way. How she’d ended up here, on the edge of extinction, I couldn’t guess, but I’d watched her thrive with fascinated ambivalence. This was not a woman who hid out and felt sorry for herself. She was a go-getter, even if, based solely on her living conditions, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.
“Are you asking me if I stole your package, Chad?”
“No. I’m simply following the evidence. According to the delivery information sent to my email yesterday, the package was left on my doorstep at nine fifteen a.m. Saturday morning. But by the time I got home at eleven thirty five a.m., it was gone.”
“Wow,” she said in sarcastic amazement. “Your detective skills are spot on. Where did you learn your trade? From Riverdale?”
“I don’t need high quality investigative training to tell me you’re the most obvious suspect,” I countered.
“Oh, yeah? And why is that? Please provide details.”
“That’s confidential.”
“Oh, no. If you’re accusing me of kleptomania; I have a right to know your evidence.”
“Look, Dani, I don’t care if you’re into whips and chains. Your private life is none of my business,” I replied, scratching my temple. I knew damn well what she was talking about, but I also knew I’d be lighting her fuse.
“No, Chad, kleptomania—a compulsion to steal. Seriously, dude, your teachers need to line up and apologize to you.”
We have a flame.
“Or, at the very least, pummel you with a bat, dumbass.”
Click. Click. Boom, baby!
She was just that easy. In some ways, making Dani crazy took the edge off. By stripping her of her sanity, I was restoring bits and pieces of my own. My eyes narrowed in on her. Obviously, she hadn’t comprehended the joke. Typical. Fancying herself a scholar, Dani regularly chose intelligence-shaming as her weapon of choice, but seeing that she’d graduated from one of those Varsity Blue campuses where the rich mommies and daddies routinely bought their children’s way into the school, I wouldn’t have put it past Dani to have a fake athletic profile floating around out there somewhere with her face photoshopped onto a rower’s body.
“You want evidence?” I said. “Fine. There are two reasons why I’ve concluded you’re the culprit. One: we’re at the end of the hallway, and no one comes back here. And two: you’re the only person who wishes me dead.”
“Oh, Chad, don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure there are plenty of people who want to throw you over the balcony.”
I laughed at her snappy comeback, one of the few chuckles to pass my lips in months. Dani rolled her eyes then returned to the near-impossible task of fitting her key into the lock while agitated.
After witnessing several failed attempts, I stepped forward to offer my assistance.
“Back off!” she hissed, angling her hip to block me from advancing.
Holding my hands up, I took a step back. “Whoa, I can see that stuffing holes isn’t your thing. I was just trying to help.”
She glanced up at me, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Clever wordplay there, Chad. I can see you’ve been practicing. Bravo. Oh, and if that hair on your face is any indication, I can’t imagine little Chad is doing much stuffing himself. He probably can’t see over the shrubs.”
“Don’t you worry about little Chad. He’s a grower.”
“Well, that’s good, because he certainly isn’t a shower,” Dani said, shifting her eyes downward and over my gym shorts before turning and walking away. “Have a shitty day, Chad.”
“Thanks. You too. Oh, and Dani? I’ll expect my package to be waiting for me when I get home.”
She spun back around to face me. “Yeah? Well, you’ll be waiting a long time because—say it with me, Dickweed—Dani. Did. Not. Steal. My. Package.”
“Dani did for sure steal my package,” I repeated after her…sort of.
“Uhhh…” she roared. “I can’t even. Think whatever you want, but just know that I have no interest in a box stuffed with lube and tube socks.”
Oh, damn. Shots fired.
“Actually,” I volleyed, “it was a box of loneliness and desperation. I ordered it as a gift for you.”
My neighbor’s eyes widened. She was reaching her limit, and yet still I kept poking. Dani was the only thing in my life that made my pulse race the way it had when I was on stage. I needed her anger like I needed my life back.
“Ooh, you’re hilarious,” she replied, employing jazz hands just to showcase how unamused she really was. “Can you do me a huge favor, Chad? Can you never speak to me again?”
“Sure, I’ll give it a shot,” I said brushing by her in the hallway. “Oh, and can you keep the noise down this evening when you gobble up that Ben & Jerry’s ice cream? I can hear your spoon hitting porcelain every fucking night, and it gives me headaches.”
“Sure. I’ll try to be more considerate.” She smiled through clenched teeth.
“Awesome. Thanks.”
“Oh, and Chad? You be sure to hydrate properly after aggressively masturbating tonight.”
“I would,” I called over my shoulder, “but you stole my lube.”
4
RJ: The Ambush
Chuckling all the way to my car, it wasn’t until I was strapped in that I caught the devious expression on my face in the rearview mirror. I didn’t like what I saw—that self-righteous smirk. A little too familiar a sight for my taste. My smile faded. What was it about Dani that made me want to pick her apart piece by piece? The girl hadn’t done anything to deserve my wrath. I was bored and unhappy with my life, and Dani’s misery had become my serotonin.
Damn. What had happened to me? What had happened to that hyperactive kid who self-calmed through music? Fame—and a man-made ego the size of a football field—that was what had happened to me. With women throwing themselves at my feet, it was easy to adopt the idea that I walked on holy water. But these past few months had proved I was nothing if not mortal.
And Dani… oh, Dani. This morning, she’d stumbled onto a land mine in not the most sensible footwear. There was no way the poor girl wouldn’t take a step in the wrong direction and explode. I often wondered if Dani would hate me as much if she knew who I was. Probably not. People tended to give celebrities the benefit of the doubt even when we didn’t deserve it. Still, it did surprise me that, after all this time, she hadn’t pieced it together. Could it be that I’d come face-to-face with one of those rare women under the age of thirty who was not a card-carrying Dayer? I’d always heard such females existed, but I’d never met one in person.