Dear Neighbor

by River Laurent

  ‘No, no, no, you don’t understand,’ she says, sheer panic of not having what she wants turning her voice into the high, whiny drone that always hurts my ears. ‘I won’t look like a freak. It will be brilliant.’

  ‘Regardless, I’m afraid I’m not the doctor for you.’

  ‘Oh, but I want you to do it. You’re the best,’ she wails. He doesn’t know it, but we’re this close (half-an-inch between thumb and index finger) to a full-blown tantrum.

  Dr. Strong takes on the expression of a man who is sitting on a toilet and has not eaten enough fiber to make it a worthwhile exercise. He sighs.

  ‘Then take my advice and stop trying to ruin a perfectly good pair of eyes.’

  ‘I’ll pay more,’ she offers suddenly.

  Oh! Britney, Britney.

  For the first time, a flash of anger shows on the good doctor’s face. He spears her with a stink glance. ‘If there is another issue you wanted to discuss then please do so, otherwise this appointment is over.’

  ‘But …’ Britney cries petulantly. ‘You did my nose and my boobs. You have to do my eyes.’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything.’

  ‘Oh please,’ she begs, her hands clasped under her chin.

  ‘I will not do it, but if you insist on having cat eyes there will, no doubt, be other surgeons interested in making you happy.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to anyone else. You’re the best.’

  Dr. Strong shakes his head, closes the file on his desk, and looks at her with cold finality.

  ‘This is so unfair. I want cat eyes. I’m not asking for something unreasonable … and I’m paying. You can’t just turn me away,’ Britney rages.

  ‘Miss Hunter,’ Dr. Strong reprimands sternly. ‘Kindly do not waste any more of my time, young lady.’

  Britney jumps up. ‘Come on Tori,’ she orders huffily, and stalks out of the office, her nose held high in the air.

  I shrug apologetically at the doctor and quickly follow her out.

  She runs past the waiting room and rounds on me in the middle of an intersecting corridor. ‘I have to find a way to make him operate on me,’ she cries desperately. ‘Can you help me to convince him?’

  ‘Me?’ I ask, startled.

  ‘Yes. You. You’re always so sensible, Tori.’

  ‘To be honest I think your eyes are beautiful as they are.’

  She looks at me the way I always imagined Cesar looked at Brutus after the knife was planted in his back.

  ‘What?’ I ask, bewildered. It’s not like we’re best friends or anything.

  ‘You don’t want me to be beautiful,’ she screeches suddenly, and streaks off in the general direction of the toilets.

  I stare after her for a few seconds before I turn around and slam into a perfectly solid wall of cologne-scented, honest to goodness, male muscles. Strong, wonderfully warm hands curl around my forearms. I look up. OK, long tanned brown throat, unshaven jawline …

  Oh! My! God!

  Amused, bright green eyes fringed by eyelashes that rightly should have belonged to a girl; straight, black, cocked eyebrows; disheveled hair, and a badass smile curved on the sexiest most deliciously full lips. The kind you just want to sink your teeth into. Oh, and just before I faint, a chin dimple just made a late entrance to the party. This is exactly the kind of man my best friend, Leah, calls ‘a happening guy.’ Things happen around him.

  ‘Whoa, babe,’ he drawls.

  How can I describe his voice? Warmed up chocolate sauce poured slowly down my naked back. Swoon, my ass, I fucking shiver.

  ‘Whoa, yourself,’ I croak.

  He bares his straight white teeth. It’s one of those magic grins that begs any rational girl to suck it off his face.

  ‘Was that my sister I just saw bolting into the toilet for a quick meltdown?’

  I swallow hard. This is so not how I expected to meet Britney’s famous brother. ‘Could be, if you’re the pop star big brother.’

  Cash Hunter’s green eyes look like they’re on fire. ‘That’s me, babe. Pop star big brother.’

  ‘Great. Er … now might be a good time to let go of me.’

  ‘Give me one good reason why I should?’ he counters lazily.

  My eyebrows fly upwards. ‘My knee’s reckoning on an upwards trajectory?’

  Grinning, he lets go of me and raises his hands as if in surrender. ‘Looks like I caught me a wildcat.’

  My legs play up a little as I take a shaky step back.

  He watches me. ‘Where the fuck have you been all my life, Beautiful?’

  I give a fake laugh. ‘Are you deliberately using bad lines to save on contraceptives?’

  The leather-clad, powerhouse of sexy goodness throws his head back and laughs. This early in the morning the vodka fumes that hit my nostrils are strong enough to make me dizzy.

  ‘What’s going to work on you, wildcat? My cock wants to say hello to your pussy.’

  ‘Breath mints might help,’ I retort.

  ‘Damn girl, you sure know how to suck the juice out of a tender moment.’ He rummages around in his pocket, finds a mangy mint, and pops it into his mouth. ‘Now unless you don’t like a long, thick cock, we’re good to go.’

  I look up at him with frosty eyes. ‘Personally I think size is overrated. Cock doesn’t have to be big to be good.’

  His eyes gleam. ‘Baby, we’re in luck. There’s a man on the other side of the corridor who can customize my dong into the right shape and size for you.’

  ‘Hilarious,’ I say unenthusiastically.

  ‘I bet I can make you call me Daddy,’

  ‘Thanks, but … ugh, no.’

  ‘Right. Change of tactics. Not that I’m giving up on getting you into my bed or anything, but want to have dinner with me tonight?’

  He’s too beautiful to be real.

  ‘Cash,’ squeals Britney.

  Cash winks at me before he turns his attention to the figure flying at him. He catches her as she wraps her arms and legs around him like a big kid.

  ‘How did you know where to find me?’ she asks.

  ‘Isn’t this your second home?’ he asks dryly.

  ‘Not anymore. Dr. Strong won’t do my eyes,’ she grumbles.

  ‘Oh yeah. Why not?’

  ‘He’s says I’ll end up looking like a ridiculous freak.’

  ‘Hmmm … what did you want done?’

  She climbs off him. ‘I want cat eyes.’

  Cash’s gorgeous eyes widen. He nods slowly as she tells him about her disastrous appointment with Dr. Strong.

  ‘Well, Sparkles. I think cat’s eyes are a great idea.’

  Jesus. Madness must run in the family.

  ‘You do?’ Britney asks brightly, her whole face shining with hope.

  ‘Absolutely. It’s a great look. It’ll make you look like one of those beauties from the fifties and sixties.’

  ‘What?’ She frowns.

  ‘Yeah, you know like Zsa Zsa Gabor.’

  ‘Zsa Zsa Gabor. Who’s that?’

  ‘She’s from dad’s time,’ he supplies with a wise nod. ‘Oh, and like … er … what was the name of that comedienne who died recently?’ He snaps his fingers and looks at me.

  ‘Joan Rivers?’ I suggest helpfully.

  He stops snapping and points at me. ‘That’s the one.’ With a smile he turns towards his sister who’s looking at him with dismay. ‘Definitely a great look,’ he says approvingly.

  ‘But they’re both so … old.’

  ‘So what. They had style. Style never dies. Come on, let’s go and see Dr. Strong together. I’ll help you to convince him.’ He takes her arm.

  Britney holds back. ‘Hang on a minute. I think Dr. Strong might have been right, after all. It’s a big step and I should think about this a bit more.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says innocently. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replies lamely.

  ‘In that case,’ he turns to me, ‘how about introducing me to this lovely c
reature?’

  Britney turns to me. ‘Oh, this is Tori Diamond. Dad hired her to be my PA.’

  He extends a hand out. ‘Hello, Tori Diamond. Cash Hunter, Britney’s pop star brother. How nice to meet you.’

  I step forward and put my hand into his ridiculously strong hands. Damn, these are some hands. Must be all that guitar strumming. My imagination runs away with me. One finger inserted deep inside me, and curling to stroke me. Oh hell! Phew! Is it hot in this corridor or what? Heat creeps up my neck. I wipe my brow as surreptitiously as I can.

  He smirks. The smarmy bastard.

  I clear my throat. ‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ I say in the poshest voice I can muster.

  Tori

  ‘We really should be getting back,’ I announce awkwardly, looking at Britney.

  Britney turns to her brother, her voice wheedling. ‘Can I go back in your car, Cash?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll take you home, but I can’t stay for long.’

  ‘Oh! Why?’ she moans.

  ‘I’m bushed, Brit. I’ve been up all night. I just want to get back to my apartment and crash. I’ll come around tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, you can sleep back at ours. We won’t disturb you. Dad’s not in, Cora never comes out of the kitchen. I’ll be real quiet, and Tori here is more silent than a bloody tomb.’

  He glances at me interestedly. ‘A silent one, huh?’

  ‘Say you’ll stay,’ she begs hopefully.

  He looks down at her, his expression undecided.

  ‘Cora’s making your favorite smoked chicken pie tonight,’ she says cunningly.

  I know for a fact Cora is doing no such thing. It should have been a silent observation, but I hear words I never intended to say go flying out of my mouth.

  ‘Actually she’s not.’

  Cash trains his starry eyes at me and I feel myself go hot. A wicked smile plays about his lips as he makes his decision. ‘You know what, Britney? I think I might have to take you up on your tempting offer after all.’

  Me and my big mouth.

  ‘Yay,’ Britney yells happily as she bounces up and down and jumps around like she’s a frog in a rainforest celebrating a coming storm.

  In a kind of hypnotic daze, I watch Cash pull a beanie from his jacket and jam it on his head. Then he takes out a pair of sunglasses and hooks them onto the bridge of his nose. I hate to be repetitive, but he is one sexy dish. Give me a man in shades any day.

  Britney threads her hand through her brother’s and beams at me. ‘I’ll see you at home?’

  ’Yes, yes, obviously. Of course you will,’ I babble foolishly before I turn around and slam straight into a really fat man. Mortified, I make my apologies. Of course, with my luck, he would have to have a weird sense of humor. He laughs and tells me not to apologize since it’s the best sex he’s had all year. My face burns with embarrassment. I dart a glance back at Cash and the irritating bastard is shaking with silent laughter.

  Whatever. With my head held up high I sail towards the door.

  Outside the sun is shining brightly on a gleaming black on black Lamborghini parked in front of the surgery. Its macho perfection is spoiled by some heartless parking attendant sticking a yellow and black parking ticket on its windscreen. I am secretly pleased. Laugh at me, will you?

  We go down the stone steps and a young woman walking past looks casually at us and then does a double-take.

  ‘Cash Hunter?’ she asks, her head pushed forward like a turtle, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  ‘Yup, but keep it to yourself,’ he says, with a magic smile.

  She slaps her hands onto her cheeks. ‘Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t believe this. I must be dreaming. Somebody pinch me quick. Oh, my God. I’m your greatest fan. Me and my girlfriend have even got tickets to come see you in Milan in August.’ She pauses to take a breath and launches again into another gushing monologue. ‘I love your latest album. I got the CD. It’s really good. I think it’s your best work. I play it nearly every night before I go to bed.’

  ‘That’s very nearly like going to bed with me,’ he says with a naughty wink.

  Oh, for God’s sake. Is this guy for real?

  But the fan flushes brick red. ‘Do you mind very much if I take a selfie with you?’ the woman gushes, flicking her hair and patting it.

  ‘Mind? The pleasure will be all mine,’ Cash drawls suggestively.

  Britney unhooks her hand from his and takes a step back. She’s obviously used to this scenario.

  ‘Anna is going to be so jealous,’ the woman mutters to herself as she fumbles around in her purse. She locates her phone, fishes it out, and stands there with an expectant look on her face.

  Cash crooks the fingers of his right hand and she eagerly rushes up to nestle against his butter-soft jacket. I know what that garment feels like because I copped a feel earlier.

  She holds her phone up at arm level and asks, ‘Ready?’

  Both of them grin like Cheshire cats and she snaps a few shots. The selfie excuse is over and she lowers her arm, but the silly bitch doesn’t move and remains cuddled up against his gorgeous body. Smoothly, Cash steps away.

  ‘Just one last thing. Can I please have your autograph? For my flat mate. She’s also my bestie. She’ll be so annoyed if I don’t,’ she chatters on, her face beaming.

  ‘Why not?’ Cash says, a glint in his eyes.

  ‘Oh, thank you. Thank you. She’ll be so pleased. Her name is Anna.’ She roots around again in her bag, and comes up with a pen and a crumpled piece of paper.

  Cash takes the pen from her and ignores the scrap of paper. ‘We can do better than that,’ he says with a smug grin.

  Her eyes widen. ‘Oh!’

  ‘May I?’ he asks.

  Her head seems to waggle dangerously on her neck, but she is game. ‘Of course.’

  He steps forward, reaches out a hand and expertly unbuttons the top button of her blouse. Her mouth hangs open with shock, excitement, and pleasure. Not a good look. Then he moves in and autographs the soft swell of her breast, just above her bra.

  ‘Have fun,’ Cash says, as he returns her pen. Giggling and simpering like a fool, she takes it.

  Yeah, that will please your bestie for sure. Carry that home to her. I look at Britney and she rolls her eyes at me. I try not to show any expression.

  ‘Well, it was so fantastic meeting you. I guess I should let you get on. OK, bye. See you in Milan,’ she babbles, holding onto the edges of her shirt collar.

  ‘Yeah, cool,’ Cash calls moving away from her.

  I see a black Bentley start inching towards us from its parked position a few cars down and I turn towards Britney. ‘See you at the house then.’

  She grins at me happily. ‘Byeeeeee.’

  Without looking at her brother or the crazed fan, I walk down the pavement and get into the Bentley.

  ‘Hey, Victor,’ I greet, closing the door after me. ‘It’ll just be me. Britney’s going home with her brother.’

  ‘Right, love,’ he replies, and pulls out into the street.

  In my peripheral vision I can see that the fan has walked off, Britney is bouncing on the passenger seat, and Cash is unconcernedly ripping the penalty ticket off his windscreen. In the light of the noon sun, their hair glows like antique gold, and their beauty makes them look like gods, or fallen angels. All that is missing are the white wings.

  I sink back into my seat.

  Wow! I didn’t do very well back there. It hits me hard that I’m going to struggle to stay with the plan. The thought is totally depressing, but I cheer up by telling myself it’s only the beginning. Yes, he won this round, but in my defense I have a few redeeming factors on my side.

  Even I didn’t quite expect him to pack such a powerful punch.

  I was naturally blindsided by the element of surprise as I was not anticipating his arrival before the end of the month.

  I remind myself not to be so hard on myself. After all, I’ve been crushing on him forever. For as long as I
can remember, and I’m talking about the kind of all consuming crush where I even refused to look at other boys. Yup, that was me.

  When it first started, my parents were all for it. Why wouldn’t they be? I was twelve and Cash was sixteen. Awww … sweet. Thinking about it now, my father actually thought it was a great development. Cash was part of a boy band called Alkaline in a faraway land called England. A quaint place still ruled by a Queen. Quite simply it meant he wouldn’t need to invest in a shotgun for at least a few more years.

  For years they used to buy me Cash memorabilia. I had everything and anything with Cash’s name or face plastered on it. Bedspreads, pens, pencil cases, T-shirts, life-sized posters, cushions, mugs, plates, shower-curtains, even a toilet seat with Cash’s face and naked torso. My brother, Brad, bought it as a joke, but I loved it so it stayed. My room and my bathroom looked like shrines to Cash or the big publicity machine for Cash Hunter had just vomited all over my living space.

  By the time I turned sixteen, my family didn’t consider my crush so peachy anymore. I came home from school one day and my mother claimed she had accidentally broken my toilet seat while she was cleaning it. Wonder of wonders my father already had a replacement toilet seat handy. My mother took the opportunity to persuade me that the shower curtains were looking old and worn and no longer matched the toilet seat.

  A trip to Target sorted that out.

  Then the Cash sheets somehow got snarled up in the dryer and my best Cash T-shirts were dyed grey when an old, black sock got into the washing machine by mistake. The mugs started breaking and were never replaced. Brad ordered life-size posters of Nine Inch Nails since they were the other group that I liked. He insisted on hanging them up for me after taking down Cash’s posters.

  ‘They’re really worn around the lips and cheeks aren’t they? Want me to trash them for you?’ he asked innocently.

  Even though it was like a knife through my heart to see my beloved Cash posters being taken down, I knew my family was right. My obsession was bordering on crazy. I was two mugs away from being a stalker. Still, I couldn’t bear to throw my posters away. I’d been kissing them goodnight since I was twelve, so I rolled them up carefully and stored them away in the attic together with my ninety-six scrapbooks of Cash.