Next-Door Nemesis(13)
“Jesus, Collins.” He drags his hand across his face. He’s already exhausted and we’ve barely exchanged five sentences. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you have to act like this?”
Is he serious? The audacity of this man.
“Oh, no you don’t.” My palm itches for the garden hose again. “You dealt the first blow tonight. You don’t get to pretend to be the victim because I’m better at this game than you. If you want to keep it pleasant, you’d be wise to listen to the ancient philosopher who once stated, ‘Don’t start none, won’t be none.’?”
I didn’t realize rolling your eyes had a sound, but I swear I can hear Nate’s eyeballs hit the back of his skull. I shouldn’t be amused, but he’s just so much fun when he gets worked up. And after months of reading comment after comment on the internet from nameless and faceless bullies judging or mocking me, it’s nice to be able to fight back. Especially with something as low stakes as old high school grudges. I mean really, how bad could this get? He talks shit about me with people I already hate?
Whoop-de-freaking-do.
“So you’re sure you want to keep doing this? You really think you can beat me in this game?” The semi-ominous undertone in his words almost makes me chuckle.
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. “Yeah, Nate. I’m sure.”
“Well then”—he pulls an unaddressed envelope out of his back pocket—“don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Seriously? What is this, a strongly worded letter?”
I snatch the envelope out of his hands and rip it open. I pull out the letter, and as I read, my amusement quickly transforms into barely concealed rage.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask as I read through words like HOA violation and tree removal and unapproved landscaping, but it’s when I see the fine that I truly lose my mind. “Two hundred dollars? Are you kidding me?”
Sure, I sprayed him with the hose and called his shirt loud, but this escalation of offenses is as ridiculous as it is unwarranted.
“Actually . . .” He leans in closer, clearly not valuing his life, as he points out the text near the bottom of the letter. “If you read right here, you’ll see that the first fine is two hundred dollars. But if you don’t remove the tree by the date listed, the HOA will be forced to issue another fine at a greater value.”
“Nate,” I try to reason with him. I know he doesn’t like me, but he’s the one who said he respected my parents, and they’re who this will affect in the long run. “My dad had me plant that tree for my mom. You cannot ask me to dig it up. She’ll be devastated. Don’t do this to them.”
“It’s not me.” He feigns innocence and the condescending smirk on his face widens. “I’m just presenting this to you on behalf of the homeowners’ association.”
“You came to my parents’ barbecue for official HOA business?” The hold on my temper finally slips. “How about you take this letter and shove it up your H-O-A-hole!”
I scrunch up the letter into a ball and aim it at his face, but he easily dodges it.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He bends over and picks up the paper, taking his time to straighten it out before handing it back to me. “But I have a deal to make with you, should you choose to accept.”
I don’t want to play into his stupid little game, but I also don’t have spare money lying around to keep paying fines. Plus, I already feel like such a burden on my poor parents, I can’t be responsible for costing them more money or losing the tree.
“What?” I look around, grateful to see nobody’s bearing witness to this exchange. “Spit it out already.”
He was always as dramatic as he was pompous. It’s too bad certain things don’t change with time.
“Move,” he says like this is some small and easy request. “I’ve made a life for myself here. I’ve created a community that values me and my contributions. I don’t need some bitter girl from high school causing scenes everywhere I go and making others question my character.”
“Hold on one second. Let me get this straight.” I raise my hand in front of me and close my eyes. I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth just like my therapist taught me, only to find out the bitch lied because I’m still mad as hell. When I open my eyes and see Nate still standing there, looking like he won something, red colors my vision. “You can’t handle running into me on your little walks and your precious ego is worried some people won’t like you? So you’re blackmailing me through the freaking HOA?”
It’s so absurd that I almost laugh. As a screenwriter, I worked tirelessly to come up with plots and ideas that would make people laugh or cry or scream. But never, and I mean never, could I come up with something as truly and utterly ridiculous as this.
Some of the cockiness fades from his demeanor, but because he’s Nate, he doesn’t back down.
“It’s obvious you hate it here,” he says. “You’ve always thought you were better than us. So why don’t you just take this as your next excuse to leave?”
Now, if I were thinking clearly—which I’m not—or concerned in the slightest about Nate’s feelings—which I’m also not—I might notice the way his angry words could be masking a deeper hurt and insecurities. But I don’t, and Nate is in large part to thank for that.