“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, the first chuckle 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 word-play 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 show-er,” 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 hysterical,” 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.”
Dani
Not Chad
Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I spewed impatient curses at the woman callously making me wait for her parking spot. I’d been in a temperamental mood ever since my run-in with Chad. How dare he accuse me of stealing! Or of being some old maid just because I enjoyed the occasional night in with a bowl of ice cream. I mean, please. Not everyone needed to live on the edge with 650% more protein than the recommended daily allowance.
I actually wished I had stolen his package, so I could then stomp it into submission. Then I’d submerge it in water and allow it to dry out before setting it on fire. Finally, I’d deliver his precious package all bloodied, bruised, and smoldering to his doorstep. Chad didn’t deserve nice things.S
Movement drew my attention back to the woman in her car, taunting me with her lack of consideration. She knew I was waiting, but clearly she didn’t care about other living, breathing human beings. Her tire would roll a half a rotation and stop. Half a rotation and stop. Oh, yeah, she was wearing on my last nerve. Maybe she was related to Chad. I normally considered myself a very patient person. I even owned a crock pot and everything. But this stop-and-go action was just uncalled for. I should already be upstairs reapplying my makeup and getting dolled up for my date with James, not down here in the parking garage slowly dying.
The woman backed almost halfway out of her spot before inexplicably stopping. I blinked once. Twice. Then exploded.
“Oh…my…god,” I articulated each word in a low growly threat. “Don’t make me come out there.”
My hand hovered over the horn, just daring me to blow the whole operation.
Breathe, I lectured myself. You can’t afford to piss her off—not when you’ve come this far.
But maybe if I could tap the horn lightly enough, it might actually make her aware that I’d been waiting on her long enough for the earth to orbit the sun. Just one tiny honk. Surely she wouldn’t take offense to that—a friendly toot that said, Hey, sorry for bothering you, LOL, but are you backing out anytime soon, you fucking bitch?
Whoa…where had that come from? I needed to chill out. I knew as well as every other person in this apartment complex that patience was key to a successful changing of the parking guard. Parking swaps were a delicate dance, and I couldn’t for one second forget the fluidity of the situation. Turtlepoke over there held all the power. She was, for the lack of a better term, the man in this particular cha-cha-cha. And if I did anything even remotely off-putting to her, she might deny me the spot I’d been waiting so impatiently for.
This right here, the parking lot hunt, was the worst part of my day, and that included run-ins with Chad. I’d honestly rather have conversations about his bushy twig and berries than try to find a parking spot after work. I equated the experience to that of the old carnival game the Cake Walk. You know, the one where everyone is circling as chairs are removed and then, when the music stops, anyone left standing scrambles for that one open spot? This right here…this was my daily Cake Walk.
The brake lights flickered, and as slowly as a turtle crawling through peanut butter, her tires again began to roll. Here we go. Almost home. My eyes darted in every direction, checking for lurking adversaries. There was a car one row over, but it was too far away to be a real contender. No, it looked like I might be home free. My mouth began to water.
Squealing wheels snapped my head to attention. What the shit? Oh, no! That non-factor car over on the other aisle had suddenly come into play and was angling to ruin my day. My heart rate quickened as the vehicle sped around the bend.
“Oh, no… no, you don’t,” I warned, flicking my blinker on and inching closer to the woman’s car. It was then I saw who was trying to steal my spot, and of course, it had to be booger-flicking, name-calling Chad. The woman pulled free of the cars on either side of her, and it was then she made the fateful decision to turn her bumper in my direction—blocking me out of the spot and essentially welcoming in the weasel with a heart of coal.
“Don’t do it!” I hollered, heat hop-skipping up my spine. Our eyes locked, mine flashing him a warning and his not giving a crap. I swear I saw him grin as he swung a hard right and slid effortlessly into my spot.