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Friday night couldn’t have come soon enough this week. After starting a new job on Monday, my head is spinning with an overload of information and names. Don’t get me wrong, working at the local library is a dream come true, but starting somewhere new is always exhausting, especially when you’re driven to do a top-notch job.
After a refreshing shower, I change into my summer pajamas and grab my current read from the side table—a steamy pirate romance. I make myself comfortable on the couch and open a bag of chips, ready to dive into my book.
Forgetting about the real world is all I want right now, but before I do, I fire off a message to my friend, Jules, who lives two doors down. She and her husband, Rafe, are enjoying a romantic holiday together. They asked me to look after the house and bookshop while they’re away.
I text her about watering the plants and putting the mail on the kitchen counter. She doesn’t reply, but I don’t take it personally. I know my bestie is too busy enjoying her husband’s company to glance at her phone. If I had a man who adored me like Rafe adores her, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him either. Unfortunately, I’m still single as can be. At least I’ve got an imaginary sexy pirate to warm my body until I meet a man of my own.
I flip the pages to where I stopped reading last night and get lost in the story. The male character is a hot and dangerous pirate who has to transport the female character to a remote island. So far, he’s pretending she means nothing to him, but the sexual tension leaps off the pages. I love these over-the-top romance stories and—
Bang.
The deep bass suddenly blasting from the other side of the wall turns me to stone for a few seconds. My heart races, and my body tenses from head to toe.
This is the fourth evening in a row that I’m treated to the obnoxiously loud music my asshole neighbor loves. He always turns up the volume after ten. Doesn’t he know that Trout Creek has a noise ordinance in place?
When I moved here, Jules mentioned he was crazy and that I’d better stay away from him, but I’m getting fed up. I’m sleep deprived, and I don’t want this exhaustion to mess with my work performance. Besides, blasting music like this is plain rude and far from neighborly.
I hear my neighbor and his friends cheering from behind the wall. I decide to give it half an hour or so before doing something. They’ll get tired of blasting their ears off soon, right?
I focus on the sexy pirate, but it’s hard to concentrate with the blaring music. When the party next door only gets louder, I slam my book closed. This is getting out of hand.
I put on a sweater and march over to my neighbor’s house, which is sandwiched between Jules’ and my place. The curtains are pulled closed, so I can’t see what’s going on inside.
I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell. There’s no answer. The music is probably too loud for them to even hear the chime. I rap my knuckles on the wood of the door and wait.
No movement.
Dammit!
I knock again, louder this time. Finally, I hear stumbling inside.
My neighbor swings the door open. We’ve never talked, but I’ve seen him in the backyard once or twice. His belly fills out his stained shirt, and his hair can’t have been washed recently. He looks at me with venom in his eyes. “What?”
“Um, I’m Liv. I live next door.”
“So? Get lost, woman. I don’t talk to neighbors.”
I swallow. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past few nights. You see, the music is a bit too loud. Would you mind turning it down?”
He scoffs. “Turning it down? You’re going to let me and my friends party, or I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”
“Look, it’s after ten. People are trying to sleep or relax. I don’t mind you partying, but the rest of us shouldn’t have to suffer because of it.”
He stumbles forward, and I catch a whiff of his breath. The smell of alcohol makes me nauseous.
“Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that. No one tells me what to do, especially not a fat girl like you.”
His comment about my looks shouldn’t bother me, but it still stings. I’m not even that big! Besides, I love my curves, and I have no intention of losing them.
I realize it’s no use arguing with a rude drunk like him, so I cross my arms over my chest and speak. “Fine. If you don’t turn your music down, I’ll have no choice but to call the cops.”
The word cops has the same effect on him as a red piece of fabric on a bull. He tries to grab my arm, but luckily for me, his movements are a bit slow, thanks to his inebriation. Shit. This is not how I hoped this conversation would go.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn him. “I’m going home to call the cops on you.”
“You’re dead, bitch,” he spits out.
I turn around and head back to the safety of my home, but he comes after me. I quickly shut the door and turn the key to lock it. Then I use the slide latch for extra safety. My neighbor rams on the door with his fists, and I almost trip over my feet while running away.
“Open up!”
Fuck. My heart races, and tears brim in my eyes. I shouldn’t have gone over there. Jules warned me the guy was crazy, and I didn’t listen. What if he manages to get inside somehow? I wish I could turn back time.
“Open this door, or I’ll go get my axe. Once I’m finished with you, you won’t have to worry about my music anymore.”
The shouting is horrible and loud. Why isn’t anyone in the neighborhood helping me? Or his friends even? Surely someone must hear that I’m being threatened.
My eyes flit around the room. I run into the kitchen and shove a drawer open to grab a chef’s knife.
“I’m armed,” I yell back. “You better go because the cops are on their way.”
He keeps banging his fists against the wood. From the sound of it, he’s also trying to kick the door in. “The cops won’t get here in time. I’ll get to you first.”
I run to my bedroom and head into the closet, still clutching the knife. I should’ve stayed at home and read my pirate romance instead of going over there and complaining about the loud music. What was I thinking?
My palms are sweaty and shaking, and my mouth is parched from the fear coursing through me. I put my hands over my ears, but it’s not enough to drown out the sound of him trying to break the front door open.
“Open this fucking door, bitch!” he yells.
Fuck. He’s not going to stop until he’s got what he wants. Me.
With trembling fingers, I dial 911 and explain what’s happening. “Please be fast,” I add. “I’m afraid he’s going to kill me.”