Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Trina
“You joining us?” Cole asks me.
“No, I have to go.” I hurry back to my apartment, then realize I forgot to yell at them about the noise.
Maybe talking to them directly isn’t the best approach. Even if I asked them nicely to keep the noise down, I doubt they’d listen to me. I need to talk to the landlord. The noise complaint would be better coming from him than from me. I’m assuming it’s a man. I don’t actually know. Jenna left me the landlord’s number but didn’t attach a name.
Turning off my music, I find the number and call it. It rings several times before someone finally picks up.
“Hello?” a man answers.
“Hi, are you the landlord?”
“I’m the property manager.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The landlord owns the building. I just manage it. I handle all the maintenance and other issues. So what do you need?”
“Oh, um, I just moved into apartment 1A and my neighbor had a party last night and the music was so loud I couldn’t sleep. It didn’t turn off until after three in the morning. I get that it’s the weekend, but some people actually have to sleep and there’s no way I could sleep with all that noise.”
“And who is this complaint about?”
“The jerk—I mean, the tenant in apartment 1B.”
“Have you talked to him about this?”
“No. He’s completely unreasonable. If I talked to him, he wouldn’t listen. That’s why I’m calling you. And actually, could we make this an anonymous complaint? I don’t want him knowing I called.”
“And why is that?”
“He’s very immature. If he found out I complained, he’d probably do something to retaliate.”
“I see.” The guy pauses. “Would you mind if I stopped by so we could discuss this in person?”
“Um, I guess that’d be okay.”
“How about right now? Are you home?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Great! See you soon.”
That’s weird. I thought I’d just report the complaint. I wasn’t expecting him to come over.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Cole.”
Cole? What does he want?
I open the door. “Hey, I’m kind of busy right now so—”
“I thought you wanted to discuss this.”
“Discuss what?” I ask.
“Your neighbor.” He glances at the apartment next door. “And your complaint about the noise?”
“Wait—what? How do you know about that?”
Cole smiles. “I’m the property manager.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Actually, I am. Jenna didn’t tell you?”
“She gave me a number to call, but didn’t give me a name.”
“Then let me introduce myself.” He extends his hand. “I’m Cole Parsons, the property manager, here to help with whatever you need.”
I shake his hand, thinking this must be a joke, but that means Jenna would have to be in on it. She’s the one who gave me his number, but I can’t see her playing a joke on me, which means Cole really is the property manager.
“Cole!” I hear the Jerk yell. “Where’d you go?”
“Next door,” he yells back.
“You weren’t supposed to tell him!” I whisper.
The Jerk appears beside Cole, that sexy smile on his face. He took his hoodie off and is wearing a fitted t-shirt that stretches over his muscular chest.
“What are you doing over here?” the Jerk asks Cole.
“Official property manager business,” Cole says.
The Jerk looks at me. “Is there a problem with the apartment?”
“Cole is dealing with it,” I say. “You can go back to—”
“Is it the toilet?” The Jerk goes past me into my apartment. “The thing used to run all the time. I thought I fixed it but—”
“Hey!” I follow him to the bathroom. “Get out of here!”
He’s already lifted up the lid of the toilet tank. “Everything looks good.” He puts the lid back. “And I don’t hear it running.”
“Because it’s not. This isn’t about the toilet.”
He turns to me. “Then what’s it about?”
I leave the bathroom and run into Cole, who has apparently invited himself into my apartment.
“As long as we’re all here,” he says, “we should talk this out.”
“Talk what out?” the Jerk says.
“Trina’s made a complaint against you.”
I throw my hands up. “What happened to being anonymous?”
“I never agreed to that. And really, you think Scott wouldn’t figure out who made the complaint? I know he looks dumb, but he’s actually really smart.” Cole smiles at his friend.
The Jerk ignores him and says to me, “So what’s this about? What’s the complaint?”
I sigh, irritated with him and his stupid friend. “The party last night. The music was so loud I couldn’t sleep.”
“You should’ve come over. It was a great party. One of our best.”
“It really was,” Cole says, smiling. “It was epic.”
I look between the two of them. “Are you really not going to take this seriously? I have to work today, and I’ve had almost no sleep.”
“So take a nap,” the Jerk says. “What time do you have to work?”
I glare at him. “It doesn’t matter what time I work. The point is that your music was way too loud and didn’t shut off until three in the morning. That’s completely unacceptable.”
“Nobody else complained,” the Jerk says, folding his arms over his chest.
“Then maybe they’re deaf, because there’s no way anyone could sleep through that noise.”
“Jenna should’ve told her,” he says to Cole.
“She said she did.”
“Told me what?” I ask.
Cole answers. “That Scott has a lot of parties. It’s his thing. He’s known for it.”
“It’s true,” he says with a smug grin.
“She told me about the parties,” I say, “but she didn’t say they went all night!”
“They usually don’t,” Cole says. “But like Scott said, last night was one of the best. You really should’ve been there.”
“Haven’t you guys outgrown this?” I say. “Who still has all-night parties at your age?”
“I think people should do what they want no matter what their age,” the Jerk says.
Cole looks at him. “She thinks you’re immature. Oh, and she said you’re unreasonable. And I think she called you a jerk.”
I whack Cole’s arm. “That was confidential! Why are you telling him this? What is wrong with you?”
“I think honesty is best in this situation,” Cole says. “If you’re going to live next to the guy, you might as well try to get along with him.”
“I don’t see that happening, especially if he keeps having parties like the one last night.”
“I’m going to let you two talk this out,” Cole says as he leaves. “I’ll be next door.”
I can’t believe he just left. If Cole really is in charge of managing the property, he should stay here and deal with this. Or better yet, he should order his friend to keep the noise down. But, of course, that’s not going to happen. Cole is friends with the enemy. I’m fighting a losing battle.
“I thought you moved in your stuff yesterday,” the Jerk says as he looks around the room.
“I did. This is it.”
“You don’t have any furniture.”
“Nope,” I say, glancing at my piles of clothes.
“You don’t even have a bed.”
“I know. I slept on the floor last night.”
“Seriously?”
I look at him. “Do you see a bed here?”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“To who? You think telling someone I don’t have a bed is going to make one magically appear?”
He walks out of my apartment.
“Um, okay,” I mutter to myself. “I guess we’re done talking.”
I’m about to close the door when the Jerk appears again, holding what looks like an inflatable pool float. It’s bright pink and has a headrest at the top.
“What’s that?” I ask as he brings it into my apartment.
“Something to sleep on.” He sets it on the floor. “Try it out.”
I sit down on it. “Where’d you get this?”
“From my apartment. Lay down on it. See if it’s good enough to sleep on.”
Keeping my eye on him, I slowly lay down.
“It’s not bad.” I turn on my side, which is how I sleep. “It’s a lot better than the floor.”
“Why don’t you have a bed?”
“Long story.” I get up. “Anyway, thanks for bringing this over, but I don’t need it. My friend’s going to loan me her inflatable mattress. I just need to go get it.”
“How long is she letting you borrow it?”
“I’m not sure. She didn’t say.”
He points to the lounger. “Why don’t you keep this for now? At least it’s something to sit on.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“So are we good?”
“I don’t know,” I say, eyeing him. “Are you having another party tonight?”
“No, but I might have a few people over.”
“That sounds like a party.”
“Hey.” Cole appears at the door. “You two work everything out?”
“Yeah, we’re good,” Scott says.
I’ve decided to refer to him as his name since he’s loaning me the pool float. It doesn’t make up for last night, but it’s a nice gesture and makes him a little less of a jerk.
“That’s yet to be decided,” I say, not ready to let him off the hook.
“So you want to join us for breakfast?” Cole asks.
“I’m going to pass,” I say. “I need to run some errands.”
“You at least need to try a cinnamon roll. I’ll bring one over.” He takes off.
“He’s always pushing his baked goods on people,” Scott says. “You just gotta go with it or you’ll hurt his feelings.”
“I don’t mind. I love cinnamon rolls. I just think it’s odd that a guy who looks like that would eat something that isn’t healthy.”
“He works out a lot. He burns off whatever he eats.”
Cole returns with a cinnamon roll on a paper plate. He hands it to me. “Let me know what you think.”
I take a bite. It’s flaky and buttery and has just the right amount of cinnamon. “It’s really good. You made this from scratch?”
“Yeah. Why? Doesn’t it taste homemade?”
“It does. You just…” I pause, not sure how to say this. “You don’t seem like someone who bakes.”
“It’s just a hobby.” He smiles a little. “And the ladies seem to like it.”
“You wouldn’t believe what women will do for a batch of his homemade brownies,” Scott says.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I ask Cole.
“No.” He puts his arm around Scott and smiles at him. “And neither does this guy, so if you know anyone…”
“What about that girl?” I say to Scott.
“What girl?”
“The one you were with last night. Whipped Cream Girl.”
Scott chuckles. “Did you seriously just call her Whipped Cream Girl?”
I shrug. “I don’t know her name.”
“It’s Bridget, and she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend.”
“She acted like more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“She called you babe.”
“So? A lot of girls call me that.”
“It seems like a girlfriend thing to me. And then all that whipped cream?”
“What about it?” he says, with that slight smile.
“Do I really need to say it?” I ask, feeling my cheeks getting warm. I never should’ve brought this up. I just met the guy. I shouldn’t be asking about his love life.
“She was making a drink,” he says. “Some kind of fruity cocktail that has whipped cream on top.”
“It was for a drink?”
“Yeah. What’d you think it was for?”
“Nothing.” I look away, embarrassed and wishing he’d stop talking about it. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” I walk over to the tiny counter that’s supposed to be my kitchen and set down the plate. “I need to get going, so if you guys could—”
“Yeah, we’re going,” Cole says, heading to the door.
Scott stays behind. “Let me know about the mattress. If your friend doesn’t want you keeping hers, I might be able to help you out.”
How would he help me? And why? I don’t understand this guy. Is he just pretending to be nice so I’ll sleep with him? I could totally see him doing that.
He’s probably lying about Bridget. That story about her making cocktails? Yeah, right. I saw how she was looking at him. That whipped cream was not for cocktails.
I don’t trust him. Or Cole. I’m sticking with my belief that all guys are jerks, even if they give you cinnamon rolls and pool floats.