Love/Hate Thy Neighbor

By Garnet Davenport

Life was fine until my loud, inconsiderate neighbor moved in across the hall in my quiet, peaceful quadruplex. I might have been barely making ends meet with the debt my ex left for me, a minimum wage job at a bookstore, and a fluffy cat named Mocha who probably liked my neighbor more than me after a chance meeting when he was fixing the heat in my apartment. Traitor.

Even with all of that I couldn't let my neighbor get close. He'd been making my life miserable since he moved in with his constant parties and it all came to head when he dumped his disgusting garbage all over me. He needed to get out. I was sure he could find somewhere else to live. He didn't have to be my neighbor. But when my complaints fell on deaf ears I took matters into my own hands...

It was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. What's the worst that could happen?

This is a Valentine's novella not part of any series with a HEA and contains mature themes for readers 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garnet Davenport
• Release date: Jun 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223448235

Book preview

one

JANE MITCHELL

I’m fine. Everything is fine. I brushed as much of the most disgusting smelling trash off my clothes and tried not to vomit from the stench. Who even had trash that smelled like a month-old rotting corpse? My new neighbor was the worst. I hated him. Besides the noise at nearly all hours from the housewarming party he threw, there was the welcome to the neighborhood party, and then there was the football game party, and let’s not forget about the it’s Friday party. The man was obnoxious.

You’ve got something in your… um… he said, his hand coming at the side of my face.

I smacked his hand away. Don’t touch me, I hissed out.

He chuckled.

What an asshole.

This is all your fault. And what is that smell? I started to gag.

He laughed. Yeah, I cleaned out my fridge.

How is it that bad already? You’ve only been here for a month, I said, running my hand down my blue sweater one more time, deciding it wasn’t going to be salvageable.

He shrugged. Takeout goes bad, and I work a lot. He looked me up and down.

What? I snapped.

You live here? he asked, pointing down at the ground.

I don’t live here. I live there, I replied, pointing toward my building. The same building he lived in.

Really?

Yes. I have for four years now.

But you didn’t come to my welcome party.

Nope, I said, popping the P.

When I looked up from my completely damaged sweater, he was smirking at me.

What? I snapped.

You’re feisty.

And you’re rude.

How am I rude?

You literally just ran into me with your nasty trash, ruining my sweater, and now making me late for work. You also didn't even attempt an apology.

You haven’t given me a chance to apologize, but I don’t think it was really my fault. You’re like the size of a fairy. I didn’t even see you when I lifted my bag up into the dumpster.

You didn’t see me? You didn’t see me? Are you kidding me? I’m not a little fairy. I’m a respectable five-foot-three.

His smirk widened to a full-on smile. There wasn’t anything funny going on right here. This was all his fault. I waited nearly one full minute before storming off just to give him the opportunity to make that apology. Did it happen? No.

Worst neighbor ever, I spat, mumbling to myself.

The row of quadruplex houses at the end of Lily Lane was my dream when I moved out of my parents’ house. It was the most beautiful neighborhood. The quietest neighborhood. And the perfect place for me. When a vacancy came up in the newspaper, I broke the lease I had on my apartment and moved in the next week. Now, four years later, rent-controlled and perennial flowers planted, my chocolate cat, Mocha, and I have made a home.

I stomped the entire way, only about fifty feet, from the dumpster to my place so that I could shower and change to make it to work only slightly late. Hopefully, Susan would understand my predicament.

I pulled out my cell phone from my crossbody bag only to find… Spaghetti? I wrinkled my nose at the stench and reared back. My purse! I gasped. It was destroyed. I dumped everything out while I dialed Susan and put it on speakerphone.

Daybreak Bookshop and Cafe.

Susan, it’s Jane.

Hey, how are you? she asked with the smallest of pauses then said, Aren’t you supposed to be here in fifteen minutes?

Yes. My gross neighbor poured trash all over me at the dumpster. I’ve got to get this showered off and changed. I swear I will be there as soon as possible.

That’s awful. Yes, please don’t come in here smelling like trash.

I will try my best. I’m pulling moldy spaghetti out of my purse as I speak.

Eww. See you when you get here.

Thanks. Be there soon.

We finished our conversation as I pulled my wallet out of my bag, praying that it could be salvaged. I opened it to have a red liquid drip out from the inside. The six dollars I had to my name was soaked in… fruit punch and ranch?

I nearly gagged. My entire body lurched forward as I tried to hold in my toast and eggs I ate for breakfast while my gag reflex was working overtime.

I laid each dollar out on paper towels on my counter, hoping I’d be able to spend them once they dried. Maybe take them to the bank? Don’t they have to take damaged money? But what if I get in trouble for defacing the bills? Could I go to jail for my neighbor’s trash getting dumped all over me? Do I just throw away my last six dollars until payday?

I could make it two more days on the fifty-four cents. I didn’t need to go to the grocery store, and I had about a fourth of a tank of gas. I could make it work. My purse was wrecked. My wallet wasn’t salvageable. The receipt for the headphones I needed to return. I guess I could take store credit, but I really could have used that thirty dollars back. I mean… you can kind of still see it. I’d go after work and see if I could convince them to give me a refund.

Everything that wasn’t salvageable went straight into the new trash bag in my kitchen, and then I looked at my sweater. Would I get whatever that was out of the crocheted light blue stitch? I checked the tag for cleaning instructions. Dry clean only. I wouldn’t be able to get it cleaned for at least two or three days, and those stains weren’t going to come out after setting in that long. I tossed it into the trash to complete throwing out everything touched by the mystery sauce my neighbor so kindly mixed together for me.

In my bra and panties, I went straight to my bathroom, turned on the shower, and looked at the ketchup-covered wilted lettuce and spaghetti noodles in my hair in the mirror.

EWWW! I whined.

Sighing, I finished taking off the rest of my clothes and got into the shower. I’d have to hurry to wash my hair and make sure whatever that smell was coming off of me was one hundred percent gone.

After getting cleaned up, I found clothes to put on that would be work appropriate and then pulled my damp hair up in a messy bun on top of my head.

Do I even need a purse? I went back into my kitchen to get my driver’s license and keys. The money wasn’t dry and neither was the receipt.

I pulled the trash bag, now full of things I didn’t have the money to replace, and walked out of my place to go throw it away at the neighborhood dumpster. The dumpster wasn’t the prettiest. Management put a tall wooden fence around it so it wouldn’t be an eyesore. I think it worked. We all got together and painted it with flowers one weekend and turned it into a really cool mural rather than just a place for trash.

I looked down on the ground right in front of the opening of the dumpster where the entire bag of moldy old food was dumped on me. He had just left the mess there. What a jerk. Zero consideration. I growled then took my phone out and took several photos to send to the management board letting them know that 416C was a huge problem. He’d end up having to leave if he couldn’t deal with the rules of common courtesy. There, I said, feeling very pleased with myself. I knew you were supposed to be kind to your neighbors and Matthew 22:37-39 says, Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Nothing about him was going to make me Love Thy Neighbor.

I went to my little burgundy Camry. I had to squeeze into my car because the truck next to me was over the line. I took a photo of that as well. I knew that three parking infractions would get you a fine, and eventually, you’d have to