Practically all of the neighbor’s outside lights have gone out, except for one, and I can hear a very faint voice coming from beneath it. I can see the silhouette of a man and hear in his raised voice that he’s yelling angrily, but I can’t quite make out what he’s saying.
It’s three condos down, and I can’t help but to wonder what he’s so mad about. Which isn’t like me at all. I’m hardly ever nosey – to each their own. However, this is going to be my home for the next three months. If there’s a man with a raunchy temper or terrible nighttime habits, then I might want to know about it. Prepare myself to avoid any kind of a run in, if need be.
I’d seen a pair of binoculars on one of the shelves in Timothy’s den, so I go inside, fetch them as quickly as possible, and hurry back out, hoping that I haven’t missed anything from the ranting man down the way. I sit back in my seat, crossing my fingers and my toes that I can get a good look at the guy’s face.
My heart sinks to the bottom of my chest as I witness him hold the phone that he’s yelling into away from his ear to scream an audible “Eat shit!” into the receiver before tossing it onto a chair.
He picks up a bottle of rum, chugs the last few swallows remaining in the bottom of it, and then throws the empty bottle as hard as he can against the concrete. It shatters, and I gasp, the blood pumping through my veins speeding up a notch. I pull the binoculars away from my face and hold my hand on my chest to steady the pounding inside of it a little.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, before taking another look.
The second I place the circular glass ends back up against the skin around my eyes, my heart stops beating completely, for only a second though before slamming back to start like a kickdrum. He’s looking right at me, and it’s the man-boy from the hotel and the beach last weekend. His eyes are glassed over, his face sagging in my direction in his drunkenness, and his chest rises and falls in shallow breath. I’m busted, and he’s a maniac, a temper tantrum throwing menace. A handsome angry man that has totally caught me watching him, yet again, this time much less pleasant than the first. My first thoughts are of those rippling muscles and the way he’d carelessly thrown the girl on the beach over his shoulder with such ease. If he were to come at me for spying, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
Naturally, I panic and run, my bare feet padding through the condo in a speedy race to double check that every single door and window is locked. I grab my phone and type out a text to Sarah asking if there are any psychopaths on the loose in her neighborhood, but then I delete it. The last thing I want to do is alarm them on the first night of my stay, or to make them second guess their choice of a house sitter.