Chapter 2 Damon – The pink lady
She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Cameron was peering out of the plantation shutters in my living room.
“Fuck, your new neighbor is crazy hot. Yeah baby, you’ll need to bend to pick that up.
That’s right ... Just a little more.” I joined him at the window.
“Look at the set up under that red top. Shit!” I looked to the woman.
Yeah, she was attractive, but the woman next to her was even prettier.
She was slightly shorter, but had a similar build.
Slender, not too skinny, with cute little curves.
Her dark brown hair was in a ponytail, and she was talking to a tall dark-haired guy.
She wore skinny jeans, pink Converse shoes and a loose pink t-shirt.
“I don’t know which one the new neighbor is, pervert,” I said. “Could be the older couple, or that other couple.” I hoped it was pink-shirt lady. Or maybe I didn’t. She was obviously with that other guy, and living next to her could be a new kind of torture.
“Injury incoming,” he murmured when the older guy and pink-shirt lady’s partner were wobbling awkwardly toward the house with what looked like an old sofa.
“Let's go help,” I declared. “You can introduce yourself to red-top chick.”
We made our way over to the group, offering to help with what I now saw was an antique chaise. It was in pretty good condition too, a great choice for houses with this historical aesthetic.
After plonking the chaise in the living room, we returned to the yard, and I offered official introductions.
Pink lady, Cordelia apparently, was bubbly and chatty, while Harrison was more reserved.
I preferred reserved to mouthy douche. It was nice to have younger neighbors in the street, which was mostly populated by people over 50.
This couple could become good friends. I’d had a lot of fun renovating my house and theirs was in rough shape.
I could definitely offer some guidance if they wanted it.
I was a qualified carpenter but two years ago opened my own lumber yard.
It was still physically hard work, but my dad had been a carpenter all his working life and now in retirement, his body was a broken mess.
With my business, I could work physically for as long as I could, and then move toward administration when I was older, bringing in younger blood to manage the labor.
Later in the interaction, Nettie had bustled over, nearly knocking over one of the Shakespeare sisters with her enthusiasm.
“Nettie,” I scolded her. I glared at Cameron.
He’d obviously forgotten to shut my front door, leaving the world’s most adventurous dog to seek a new side quest. He shrugged.
Nettie was a good dog, but like all Labs, had zero impulse control.
The woman, Juliet I think, laughed and Cordelia reached over and patted Nettie on the head.
A dog lover; even better. They’d never complain about living next door to Nettie and may even be okay with feeding her if I went away.
We offered to continue to help, but Harrison refused and thanked us without any real gratitude.
He was kind of cold. Ok, I guess I’ll go fuck myself, I thought.
We were inside cracking a beer when Cameron wandered back over to the window.
“She’s already got a Cameron, mate,” I said.
“But I guess if they broke up, you could make a move, and she wouldn’t have to learn a new name. ”
“He looks like a dick. Disgrace to the name,” Cameron retorted. I laughed. Other Cameron, Miranda’s Cameron, seemed like a nice guy. Far friendlier than Harrison.
“What’s the plan tonight?” Cam asked, finally moving away from the window.
“Samuel’s coming over for a drink. Vanessa’s working, so he’s keen to do something, even if it’s just TV and beer.
” Samuel was another mate. He was a police officer with the local PD, which is where he met Vanessa.
She was also a cop, and they were a great couple, but their hours were horrific.
If he was on nights, she seemed to be on days.
I don’t know how they managed it, but it did mean that we saw Sam a lot, given that they were never free at the same time.
“Uber Eats?” Cam questioned.
“Unless you’re offering to cook, yeah.” None of us were great cooks.
Vanessa was the only one in the crew with any kind of cooking skills, but it seemed sexist and lazy to rely on her when she was present, so we did a lot of delivered meals.
During the week, I cobbled meals together, but nothing gourmet or that I really enjoyed.
I basically ate to survive, until I could go home to Mom and Dad’s for a decent meal.
I stretched, feeling hunched since I’d carried the chaise. I did a lot of heavy lifting at work, so I was obsessed with stretching to avoid injury. I sat back and waited for Samuel to arrive, thinking quietly about the goddess next door. This could be interesting.