Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs) (7 page)

Chapter 11

“Is this one of those art classes where the instructor gets naked so you can paint him?”

Delores is hunched over in her seat, whispering loudly into Nancy’s ear.

Nancy shoos her away before giving me an embarrassed look. If Nancy wasn’t African-American, I’m sure her cheeks would glow as red as a tomato right now. “Hush! As blind as you are, you wouldn’t be able to tell his arm from his man parts, anyway!”

I bite down a chuckle as I set up my easel and lay out my pencils.
Oh Nancy, it wouldn’t be the first time my cock was mistaken for a limb.

I called the community center bright and early yesterday morning to speak to Faith and express my interest in teaching an art workshop to the senior citizens of Reyfield. I’ve never taught an art class in my life but I’m a renowned tattoo artist. How hard can it be, teaching a group of old folks to draw a sunset? And it definitely beats sifting through the four banker’s boxes of receipts and paperwork that Maxwell FedEx’ed me from California. So, when Faith asked for my availabilities, I said — you guessed it — Tuesdays and Thursdays at 4:30.

Faith was able to corral nearly a dozen of the town’s feistiest silver vixens on very short notice and they’re all eager about the class. To be quite frank, I’m a little concerned for my safety. Helen Winterbaum asked me for a lower back tattoo a few minutes ago and Betty Greene blatantly grabbed at my package. Twice. And class hasn’t even begun yet.

I may not be able to leave here with my virtue in tact.

But it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for Sammie. Not just because it’s kind of fun, seeing her so off-kilter every time I come around, but also because, a part of me really just wants to get into her good graces. She clearly thinks I’m a real asshole, but I don’t want her to keep hating me. I want her to know that, despite everything, I’m a good guy.

And after my impromptu striptease show in front of her window on Friday night, I might be further than ever from my goal. But I just couldn’t resist. In my defense, I was a bit tipsy and I caught her sneaky ass peeping at me through her blinds, just like she used to do when we were younger. But, we’re adults now. And I’m horny. So I decided to have a little harmless fun at her expense.

Anyway, I haven’t seen her since that night and I think that she’s deliberately avoiding me. Case-in-point, I spent most of Saturday morning
trimming the unruly hedges framing her backyard and mowing her overgrown lawn, but she didn’t show face at all.

I’ve been out of jail for almost a month now and I
still
haven’t gotten laid. I’m almost tempted to think that the problem might be me — do I have body odor or something? — but then, I remember that I’m the one who’s been refusing the advances of the many attractive women who’ve shown interest in me since I’ve been in town.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I came to Reyfield with every intention of fucking like a wild animal to make up for lost time, but now that I’m here, now that I’ve laid eyes on Sammie Trotten, it kind of sort of feels like she’s the only woman I want to shove my happy stick into.
Damn – that was kind of crude
. But that’s just a crazy fantasy because I promised Daniel that I’d keep my ‘happy stick’ away from his little sister.

After giving basic instructions to my students, I spend the next hour sauntering about the room, peering over their shoulders to offer them constructive criticism and encouragement as needed. I remember to always keep a safe distance just in case one of these sassy, old broads tries to get handsy.

At 5:28, the door across the hall swings open and a group of lethargic 14-year-olds trudge out of Sammie’s tutoring session.

I address my class. “Ladies — that’s all the time we have for today. See you back here, same time on Thursday. Thanks for coming out.”

Before they can even answer, I’ve dashed out into the hallway, trying to get to Sammie before she leaves. She’s standing just inside of the doorway of her classroom speaking with one of the kids. I clear my throat, approaching them just as the student is walking away.

“Keeland?” Her eyes are wide and her cheeks go red immediately. Suddenly looking self-conscious, she runs her fingers through her messy, shoulder-length chestnut hair.

“Hey Sammie.”

She straightens the collar of her kelly green sweater. “What are you doing here?” she asks gruffly. She’s still not over Friday night. I can see it on her face.

“Teaching an art class to the seniors,” I say pointing over my shoulder to the open door behind me.

Her eyes narrow. “You’re teaching an
art class
to the
seniors
?”

I nod, feeling pretty proud of myself. Women
love
guys who volunteer and shit.

“Since when?” she asks in a challenging tone.

“Since today.”

She rolls her eyes and walks back into her classroom, bending over to pick up her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. The hem of her flirty, white dress inches up ever so slightly.

My cock jerks at the thought of getting a peek at her plump, round ass.

When she straightens up and turns back to me, I have to catch my bearings…and discreetly adjust my erection.

Fuck — I
want
her.

“Anything I can help you with?” she asks pointedly.

One side of my mouth inches up. “You can give me a ride home.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “How’d you get here?”

“I walked.”

“Then maybe you should walk back.” Her tone is flat and dry.

“Well, I figured I wouldn’t need to walk back since my next door neighbor would be here tonight.” I take a step towards her.

She takes a step back. “So you admit it? You’re here because of me? To continue taunting me?” I can’t stop watching the way her red lips pout. I can’t stop imagining them around my cock.

“Me? Taunt you?” I say innocently. “I’m just here to volunteer my time and my talent to the fine seniors of Reyfield.”

She grunts. “Whatever.” She slips her bag onto her shoulder and slinks past me, out the door.

That little prank I pulled in front of the window is starting to backfire on me, because since I stripped bare for her, Sammie is the only woman I’ve imagined being naked with.

“So, how about that ride home?” I ask.

She glances over her shoulder at me. She bites her lip and I can tell she’s looking for an excuse. “I’ve got to go to the grocery store before I head home. That’ll take a while.”

“Ah — that’s perfect. I need to go to the gro—”

“Y’know what?” she interrupts me, walking over and sliding her arm around Delores’ shoulders just as she and Nancy come ambling out of my classroom. “These lovely ladies would be delighted to drive you home, Keeland.”

I open my mouth to protest but the old wench grins and lands a heavy, open palm on my ass. She grabs me by the elbow, dragging me towards the exit. “It would be my pleasure to take you home.” She gives Sammie a wink before turning back to me. “Come on, cowboy!”

Chapter 12

The rays from the street lamp shine into the kitchen as I slip out of my sweater. I prop my hip up against the kitchen counter and sort through the mail.

Mine.

Mine.

Not mine.

Mine.

Not mine.

Not mine.

Not mine.

I used to think that our mailman is blind, but now, I think that he either can’t read or he just doesn’t give a fuck whose house he delivers which mail to. Regardless, he has a serious problem because half of the mail that pops up in my mailbox doesn’t belong to me. I constantly find myself running around Thornbush Lane delivering letters to their rightful addressees.

Not tonight, though.
I’ll deal with the mail in the morning.

I drop the envelopes that don’t belong to me into a pile on the kitchen table, grab a frozen pizza out of the freezer and shove it into the microwave. While my dinner warms up, I turn on my computer, hoping hoping hoping that someone somewhere has invited me for a job interview. I know the economy is bad but I’m desperate now. I’ve gone four months without a job and I’m not eating freezer-burned pizza by choice. I’m quickly blowing through the severance pay I received when I lost my job.

Next resort? Max out my credit cards.
Not a good look
.

The microwave dings, informing me that my pizza is now scalding hot and soggy. I pout as I take it, along with the newspaper sitting next to the mail and head over to the kitchen table.

I open my email. Nope — no job leads here.

Sigh.

Meanwhile, my hard-earned certified internal auditor designation sits and wastes away in a drawer.

I browse the major job search websites again and leave a few applications but it really doesn’t look promising. Just as I’m about to send in a final resume, my phone dings on the table next to me.

It’s Keeland.

I’m still so annoyed that he showed up at the community center today. He deliberately scheduled his art workshop to coincide with my math tutoring. It’s bad enough that he’s in the house next door every single day. I’ve even started doing my meditation in the basement just to avoid him. Now, do I have to avoid the community center, too?

This whole Keeland’s-back-in-town thing is starting to be too much.

I want nothing to do with him but the fact that he caught me ogling him through my bedroom blinds like a damn idiot the other day did nothing to convince him of that.

I grumble under my breath as I grab for my phone and check his message.

Keeland: Sammie…

I can almost hear him saying my name in that teasing, sing-song way of his.

Sammie: WHAT?

I’m not sure that response conveys the level of annoyance I feel. So when it takes him a few minutes to respond, I send him a couple of question marks and some exclamation points to speed things along.

His next message makes me tingle all over.

Keeland: I want to come over. To play…

A sharp reaction pulses at my core. My cheeks blaze. My pulse hammers. I am
all
hot and bothered.

Dammit!

I’m done being taunted by him.

He thinks he's so irresistible, flaunting his hotness all around, teasing me facetiously, making me lose my damn mind. But I’ll show him.

I’m not just his best friend's innocent kid sister, a little girl he can just toy around with for shits and giggles.  I'm all grown-up now. I'm gonna make him want me. I’m gonna make his balls turn cobalt blue. And one thing’s for sure – he will never have the privilege of getting his hands on my body.

I pick up my phone and tap across the screen.

Sammie: Meet me at the bedroom window.

I grin to myself as I hit ‘send’.

I’ll teach him a lesson.

I'll show him. I’ll
SHOW
him.