An Annoying Neighbour
1642 Words
Ben had just arrived home at dusk. After dealing with that crazy woman earlier, Vernon had taken him to a friend’s place—someone who offered him a job cleaning out their gardens.
“Vernon, I really appreciate the job,” Ben said.
“Hey, it’s nothing compared to what your father did for me.” Vernon leaned his head out the car window. “Your neighbor’s pretty loud.”
Ben turned toward the neighbor’s house. He still remembered it belonged to the Oswald family. “I think their kid’s throwing a party. Mr. and Mrs. Oswald went out of town to visit their parents.”
“Ah, young people,” Vernon said knowingly. “He’s in for trouble when his parents get back.”
Ben chuckled at that.
“I see you’ve cleaned up your yard?”
Ben nodded. “Before I came to your place.”
“Stop by the shop again. I’ll cook something nice for you.”
“I’ll come by after work tomorrow.”
“Alright then, I’m heading home.”
“Take care,” Ben said, waving as Vernon drove away.
One problem was out of the way—for at least a few weeks, Ben wouldn’t have to worry about food or money. Now, the next thing he had to focus on was finding the person responsible for everything he’d suffered over the past fifteen years.
He picked up the phone Vernon had given him and searched for a last name. It didn’t take long. That name was infamous in Rotterfoort. The family practically ran every important sector of the city.
Ben’s fingers moved quickly across the screen—until they froze, and his eyes widened as he read a headline.
“Ernest Softucker Dead by Suicide!”
“Damn it!” Ben cursed, gripping the phone tightly. “You’re dead?! We haven’t even met, Ernest—why did you die already?! Argh! You didn’t even get to rot in prison for what you did, you bastard!”
He growled and kicked the wooden table in front of him, furious that Ernest Softucker had escaped justice through death. It was Ernest who’d sent Ben’s father to prison for a crime he never committed.
“No! No! Even if you’re dead, your family will still pay, Ernest! Yes, you still have a brother who inherited all your wealth. I’ll make him kneel in front of me and beg for mercy—just like you made my father beg! And wherever you are now, you’ll regret it! You’ll wish you were alive to save him!”
Ben went back to the phone, digging through every bit of information he could find about the remaining Softucker family. Destroying them was Ben’s first mission after getting out of prison. He wouldn’t spare a single one. Not a single cent of their fortune would remain untouched.
His thoughts were broken by a loud knock on the door. He got up to answer it—but no one was there. When he peeked outside, he saw two guys running off, laughing loudly.
“Idiots,” Ben muttered, ignoring them.
But it wasn’t long before another, louder knock came. He opened the door again—and sure enough, those two punks were laughing their heads off.
To hell with them being kids—Ben didn’t care. He bolted after them, and they ran straight into the Oswalds’ yard, where the party was still raging.
Ben hadn’t wanted to stir up trouble with the Oswalds’ kid—especially not after being offered apple pie earlier. But the pounding music and obnoxious behavior had already pushed his patience. He stormed into their yard and rang the doorbell several times.
“Yes?” a woman answered, holding a beer. “You’re a little old for this party. But you’re pretty sexy. Look at those biceps—delicious. Did you wear that sleeveless shirt just to show them off?” she rasped, fingers running along Ben’s arm.
“Who’s in charge of this party?”
“Whoa, slow down, honey,” she whispered, nibbling on his ear. Ben jerked away instinctively. “Oops! Sensitive, are we? Fine, if you don’t want to play.”
She raised her glass and downed the rest of her beer in one gulp.
“Come in! Oscar’s throwing this party for all of us to enjoy!”
“Where’s Oscar?”
“Why bother him? He’s busy with his girlfriend. You should just come with me—”
Ben grabbed her arm, hard enough to make her wince.
“I don’t have time for your games, kids! Get Oscar. Now.”
With a pout, the woman turned and headed upstairs. Ben looked around and gave a dry, sarcastic smile. What would Mr. and Mrs. Oswald think if they saw what their only son was doing to their home?
Moments later, a young man came down the stairs with a sour expression. He stopped in front of Ben and looked him over from head to toe.
“You Oscar?”
Oscar gave a small nod, sizing Ben up.
“Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so. Last time I saw you, you were still in diapers.”
“Oh, so now you’re some old guy—sorry, what did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t,” Ben replied, taking a breath. “I’m Ben. Your next-door neighbor,” he said, nodding toward his house.
Oscar followed his gaze but didn’t look any more interested.
“Two of your friends were bothering me.”
Oscar glanced behind him at the crowd. “Hey! Were you guys messing with this old dude?”
The rowdy teens just laughed and jeered in response.
“You see? No one’s bothering you. Maybe you—”
Before Oscar could finish, Ben grabbed his cheek in one hand. Everyone nearby froze in shock.
“Listen, kid! I don’t care if you want to destroy your parents’ house with your stupid party. But one thing,”—Ben squeezed harder—“don’t disturb my peace. Got it?”
Oscar nodded frantically.
Ben let go and smirked, his expression sharp and menacing.
“Turn the music down. I need sleep—I’ve got work in the morning.”
“Al—alright.”
Ben walked out without another word. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. The look on Oscar’s face—he was sure if he’d held that grip a second longer, the kid would’ve peed himself.
Back at home, Ben locked the door, pulled the curtains shut, and headed to his room for some rest. His body ached—he needed to recover if he wanted to work properly tomorrow.
But just one step into his room, and his eyes went wide.
There was someone—no, a woman—lying on his bed. Face-down, hair a mess, snoring loudly.
Ben growled. One of Oscar’s drunk party guests had somehow ended up in his room. And she had the nerve to take up his entire bed—a bed barely big enough for him alone!
“Hey!” he shouted from the doorway. “Miss! How did you get in here? This isn’t your bed, not even your house! You’ve got the wrong place! If you want to be drunk, go do it at Oscar’s!”
She didn’t stir.
“Hey!” he tried again, still nothing. Frustrated, Ben stomped over and shook her shoulder. “Wake up!”
He brushed the hair from her face, slowly rolling her onto her back. One look at her and Ben sighed in annoyance. Still, he quickly grabbed the blanket at the edge of the bed and covered her chest.
“Just my luck,” he muttered. “Why you again?”
The woman mumbled something in her sleep.
“What did you say?” Ben leaned closer.
“Help me,” she whimpered. “Dad will kill me if I go home.”
Ben scoffed. “Spoiled brat.”
She didn’t move, which only made Ben more irritated. Without another word, he picked her up and carried her outside.
“Dad… someone wants to kill me,” she mumbled again.
“And who are you that someone would want to kill you?” Ben grumbled. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised, after how awful you were back at Vernon’s. You’re probably just a rich, pampered princess—bossy, entitled—”
Ben stopped himself. He sounded like a madman ranting to himself.
He set her down on his porch steps, still wrapped in his only blanket. He fully intended to leave her there. Once she sobered up, she’d go home. Or at least make her way back to Oscar’s.
But a few hours later, Ben was still wide awake. Not because of her perfume lingering on the sheets—but because his brain wouldn’t stop worrying.
Was she still cold out there? Even with the blanket?
Frustrated, Ben got up and peeked through the curtains. She hadn’t moved an inch since he left her there three hours ago.
“Why isn’t Oscar looking for her? How much did she drink? Why isn’t she awake yet?” he muttered. “Ugh, whatever. Not my problem. She’ll wake up soon and go home.”
Still, he opened the door and crouched beside her, taking another good look at her sleeping face.
Damn it. He couldn’t look away from those small, red lips.
Ben sighed. As much as his heart was full of anger, he wasn’t cold enough to let some helpless—even if infuriating—woman freeze out there. He gently buttoned up her shirt, then picked her up again.
No, he wasn’t taking her back to his bed. But he was going to return her where she belonged.
Oscar’s house.
***
- Writer
