Guys on Top Read Free Page B

the walk down to the pond serene and calming, birds chattering in the trees. He had a beautiful apartment, lived on a beautiful street, and he didn’t want to give that up. He’d find a way to make it work with the neighbors, somehow.
    Crossing the parkway, he made his way down to the pond. He started his jog, already feeling refreshed and less angry about his lack of sleep. It was difficult to stay irritated as he passed swans gliding across the water, fragrant blossom petals swirling like snow along the tree-lined path.
    Though he was a bit irritated that he’d slept so late. At five in the morning there were few people down here, but at nine it was already crowded with other joggers and parents pushing strollers. A couple of times he fell into that awkward thing where some other jogger’s pace lined up exactly with his, and he had to either slow down or sprint to avoid running alongside a stranger.
    He did his six miles and returned home, the cool breeze drying his sweaty skin, his mood considerably better. After taking a shower and dressing, he turned on some music and made breakfast in his new kitchen. He checked his phone messages as he chewed his egg sandwich, noting a new voice mail. As he listened to it, his teeth clenched.
    “Hi Doug, it’s Anna, your landlord? Listen, your brother gave me a call, and he mentioned the problems you’re having with the noise. I’ll give a call to the guys upstairs and tell them to keep it down, and I’m sorry you had to deal with that. They’ve always been so courteous to me, I just don’t know, maybe they weren’t aware that someone moved in there yet. But don’t you worry about it, I’ll speak to them. Take care, hon.”
    Doug put the phone down. “Fucking Wyatt. Damn it!”
    He dropped the rest of the sandwich on his plate and wiped his hands, his appetite gone suddenly. Wyatt’s meddling had just crossed over into invasive land. Calling the landlord on his behalf! He’d have to have a little talk with Wyatt later when he went over for dinner.
    Noises from above drew his attention, and he looked upward. The sound of feet shuffling around, voices raised. He winced, wondering if Anna had already called them.
    He heard the creak of the upstairs door, then the sound of feet trampling down the stairs. Doug froze. Please don’t knock. 
    Someone knocked three times on his door, and from the force and volume, it didn’t sound like pleasantries were coming. Reluctantly, Doug climbed out of the kitchen chair and headed into the living room. He was halfway to the door when whoever was there knocked again, but this time it was a full fist slam, making the wooden door rattle.
    Doug went still. Another pounding set of knocks came, even harder this time. His temples pulsed, anger boiling up inside him. Who the hell did this douche think he was, pounding on the door like that?
    He decided then that he wouldn’t answer it. If the guys upstairs wanted to speak with him, they could do so politely or not at all. This was what he told himself, pushing aside the nagging truth that he was somewhat intimidated by that angry pounding. Not because he feared the neighbors. He was simply wary to further ignite his own anger if someone started shouting at him, ruining his hard earned, post-run bliss. 
    Eventually he heard the sound of the knocker retreat back up the stairs, slamming the door as he returned to his own apartment.
    “Jesus Christ,” Doug muttered. “Chill the fuck out.” He’d have to deal with the situation eventually, but opted to put it off until he felt more mentally prepared for what was sure to be an awkward altercation.
    For the rest of the day he busied himself with the last of his unpacking. As the afternoon edged toward evening, he heard the neighbors’ voices conversing as they went out the back door, then the welcome sound of car engines starting. Adios, assholes . He peeked out the front window and watched the blue sports car, which looked like an old Fiat