Not A Car Service
Havoc
I need a vacation. Or to hide from work for a while. Maybe I should take Creed snowboarding for a weekend. Just get away from it all.
Today has been long, way too long. There was no way I was spending an hour chopping vegetables for the stir-fry I had planned this morning—which was probably only the plan because of that woman next door. Weekends are for fancier meals.
Mr. Timmons gave me a knowing look as I picked up two steaks and a bagged salad for dinner. Without a doubt, he thinks it’s for Greer and me.
Like I’d ever go out with that woman.
A twinge of guilt runs through me at how I treated her earlier.
“Creed!” I shout as I walk in.
“Kitchen.” He’s sitting at the island with a pile of books scattered around him, studying. It’s a habit I started when he was younger to ensure his homework got done, and it stuck.
“How was school?”
“Boring.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider going to that special school? At least it might challenge you a little bit.”
“There’s no way I want to be a freak. Next year, I can start taking college classes. That will help.” He sets down his pen. “Dad?”
The tone change in his voice grabs all my attention. “Yeah?”
“There’s something up with Greer.”
Not again. I’m not dealing with that woman again today. “She’s a adult. They take care of their own problems.” Or let their boyfriends take care of them…except she just broke up with him. Is he bothering her?
My fist flexes, crinkling the paper bag.
That’s none of my business.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s just, she walked out in this ratty sweatsuit with her hair all messy. It was so odd. Even when she walks out in her robe in the mornings, she looks put together.”
Was it because of me? Did she spend her day crying because I hurt her feelings this morning?
“Oh, about that—I almost forgot—she asked me to give you this.” Creed pulls an envelope out of his pocket. “She said it was the money she borrowed from you today.”
Greer paid me back. I take the oddly thick envelope from him—did she pay me all in ones?—and open it. The first bill has a one on it, but it isn’t a dollar. The four behind it are exactly the same. Then there’s a single twenty-dollar bill. “What is this?”
“The money she borrowed,” Creed answers, even though I wasn’t really talking to him.
What in the world was that insane woman thinking, giving me five hundred dollars? This was all to get my attention.
Well, she got it. And now I’m going to give her a piece of my mind. I storm over to her house and knock on the door.
What version of Greer am I going to get?
The door opens.
Who is—Greer in sweats is a sight to behold. The outfit completely changes the woman. Why do I find this version sexier?
Because you can picture her wearing your sweats…
“By the pounding on my door, it seems that you haven’t learned how to properly announce your arrival.
Let me demonstrate how it works.” She moves forward, crowding into my space.
“All it takes is one step. The bell is large enough that even your man-sized fingers can properly operate it. Now, this is the tricky part. You only need to press it briefly. Unlike your excessive pounding on my door, one gentle little touch will notify me of your arrival. Just like this.”
She presses the button and pulls back. “Do you need me to demonstrate it again? I don’t mind if your male brain needs repetition to actually learn a new skill.”
Why is it that all I can think about is how cute those luscious red lips of hers are? How kissable they look?
“Obviously you do. One finger press and release. Does that make sense, or do you need me to use smaller words?”
Would she slap me if I leaned down and kissed her?
“Earth to Havoc.” Greer waves a hand in my face. “What is wrong with you?”
You are. And how you can change in the blink of an eye. And the fact that you’re all I seem to think about, even if you make me mad.
The money. “What is this?”
“It’s an envelope. They’re usually white, but they can come in many different colors. You generally use them to send written messages to people around the world.”
Don’t laugh at the snark when you want to shake the irritating woman. Creed should have named her that instead of the hot neighbor. Though both of those describe her so well.
“Do you need further explanation of the historical use of envelopes, or can I go back into my house and enjoy a peaceful night?”
I’m certainly not going to get any peace tonight. Why should she? “What is the meaning of this?”
“Isn’t it enough?” She turns and walks into her house, muttering to herself. “You should have just said you wanted more.”
More? Has she lost her mind? Absolutely. I follow her, stopping briefly to stare at the meticulously clean space that’s marred by dozens of papers spread across the coffee table.
That’s odd.
But there’s no time to worry about that. If I don’t hurry, she’s bound to try to give me more money.
There she is in the kitchen with that twenty-thousand-dollar purse, pulling out hundred-dollar bills.
“Lady!”
“Is five hundred not enough, or do you want a thousand?” She lifts the wad of cash like it's dollar bills. “I don’t normally pay for car services, so I guesstimated.”
“Woman, you borrowed eighteen dollars.”
“I am aware. I can do rudimentary mathematics. But I assumed you wished to be paid for your services after you pitched that little fit of yours.”
Little fit?
Don’t laugh.
Don’t kiss her.
“Since I don’t know what they charge here for a personalized car service, I used the rates I’ve seen on some cars back in Urbium as a reference. How much more would you like?”
More? She really thinks I want more money. “What in the world would make you think I want you to give me more of some other man’s money?”
“Huh?” Her hands freeze, and her brows wrinkle. “What nonsense have you gotten into your head now?”
Is she really going to keep playing that game with me? I’m so tired of it and all of these theatrics.
She stands there staring at me like I have something growing out of my head, and then her eyes open. Her laughter rings out loud and clear.
“You think…You think…That’s why Creed asked…Oh, this is too funny.” Greer slaps a hand over her mouth. Then starts laughing like a person who’s lost all sense of reason.
Did she ever have any to begin with?
“If my mother heard you…faint…floor clutching her pearls…Rothswyler…oh, is he going to get a kick out of this.” Her eyes start to water as she gasps for breath, laughing in between each one. “Winnie…got to tell Winnie.”
I take a seat on one of her remarkably comfortable barstools and wait for her to compose herself. What in the world is going on in her mind? Has she lost it because of break-up grief?
Could she have really loved that old man?
Gross. It has to be fear of losing his money.
Slowly, she starts to calm down, but the humor doesn’t leave her eyes. “Is there something in the water here that makes men obnoxious in their assumptions?”
Does she really expect me to answer that?
“Creed seems to be completely unaffected by this, so it can’t be genetic…
unless…Is Creed biologically your child?
I mean, he looks like a clone of yours, but that doesn’t mean anything.
Maybe you have an intelligent, mature brother that she cheated on you with?
One could assume that since he’s kind and respectful…
while you assume women you don’t know are prostitutes.
At least tell me you gave me the respect of thinking I’m a prostitute who uses her brains and wiles to make an impressive living and not a pathetic little girl who lets a man do whatever he wants to her because she doesn’t have a brain in her head? ”
“Um…” How could I believe that about her?
“You thought I was a brainless bimbo. Wow.” She turns and walks a few feet away. “Wow. Me, a brainless bimbo.” She whips around. “I don’t know which is more insulting.” Greer locks her gaze with mine. “The brainless part. Because you can clearly see I went to college.”
“To be fair, I didn’t think you were brainless.”
“Well, there is some comfort in that fact. I think you should go.”
Go? No. I need to explain. Apologize. Figure out who this woman really is. “I can explain—”
“Really, you can explain how you treated a woman like you have for weeks? How you were cruel and tried to make her feel small because you made baseless assumptions?”
“They weren’t baseless—” The sharp look she gives me stops the excuse in my throat. “I’m sorry—”
“You know what? I don’t care if you’re sorry.
People don’t act like that. Whatever issues you have with women aren’t my problem.
I have enough of my own to deal with. I don’t need more from an idiotic man.
So, if you’d kindly leave. I have things to do with my night, and hope never to speak to you again. ”
No, it can’t go like this. “I really am sorry—”
“You’re talking to a woman who doesn’t care.
I have better things to do with my time than handle another boy pretending to be a man.
Leave my home. And when you see me, go back to pretending I don’t exist, because to you, I don’t.
If you ever knock on my door again, I’ll show you what Rothswyler really does. ”
The way she says that, makes it sound like he’s the muscle in an old-time gang. Which can’t be, since that man doesn’t have a visible muscle in his scrawny old body.
But she’s dead serious about me leaving. I place the envelope down on the bar. “I really am sorry.”
She doesn’t waver for a second as I walk out the door. That woman could have been a warrior of old. The unblinking strength impresses me even more.
How could I have been that wrong?
That's easy…she’s right. I made assumptions.
Those assumptions weren’t really made because of her. The past flows through my brain, as realization hits me. All those hateful things I thought or said…really had nothing to do with her and everything to do with my past. I let that woman ruin another part of my life.
Having a neighbor who rightfully hates you isn’t a good thing.
But treating a woman badly because you haven’t gotten over your ex is something else entirely.
“Everything okay, Dad? Did you see what I mean about Greer?”
The only thing I saw was my own stupidity and a woman who could single-handedly take on all the evils of the world and win. “She’s fine.”
“You know that word means the opposite when women say it.”
Oh yeah. “But I’m the one saying it. You don’t need to worry about her.” I might need to worry about this Rothswyler guy…would she really send someone to physically hurt me?
I wouldn’t hesitate if someone was bothering my woman. Greer mentioned Creed being the smart one…Did he ask her instead of assuming?
He told me once that she wasn’t dating anyone. “Has Greer ever mentioned a man named Rothswyler?”
“Yeah. That’s her family lawyer.”
Family lawyer? “What do you mean? Like a friend of the family who’s a lawyer?”
“I think he’s a friend, but no. Her family has Rothswyler on retainer. He found and purchased this house for her.”
But it’s owned by a trust…and she’s carrying a twenty-thousand-dollar bag like people carry a drawstring bag to the beach. “Greer is rich.”
“Oh yeah. I didn’t look her family up, but I get the impression that she’s very rich.”
“So he isn’t her boyfriend?”
Creed grins. “Nope. No sugar daddy.”
“Why do you think this is funny?” I glare at him.
“Because the next thing you’re going to realize is why you were dipping her braids in the inkwell.” Creed closes his book and stands up. “I think I’ll go make dinner while you process all that. And Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember that I really like Greer when you figure it out.” He takes the food out of the bags while I stand there trying to decipher his words as guilt flows through me.
At least Greer doesn’t plan to send a hitman after me.