Page 9 of Texting Mr. Stranger

“I usually give my lessons in here,” Bella says, gesturing to one of the four doors.

“That’s fine.” Sofia glances at me.

“Go ahead,” I tell her. “I’ll answer some emails out here.”

As they walk away, I look at Bella again. I’m sure plenty of women sway their hips when they walk. I’m sure they do it attractively, too, without self-consciousness or fakeness. I’m sure there’s no reason for me to find it so damn captivating.

Once they’re gone, I take out my phone and start answering emails. I can faintly hear the women’s voices through the door. Then, just as the first strings of a violin start to play, loud dance music blasts from the apartment above. It’s absurdly, obnoxiously loud, the kind of volume that tells me right away what sort of person lives there. It’s not even midday.

It pumps so hard I’m sure I can feel the apartment shaking. I try to ignore it for a minute, but when it turns up even more, I stand up, full of energy. Going to Bella’s room, I knock on the door.

“Is that bothering you?” I ask them both.

Sofia looks at me sharply, a plea in her eyes as though saying,Don’t do any Mafia stuff. We agreed.

“I’ve tried calling the cops,” Bella says in a defeated tone that bothers the hell out of me. “They said they’ve registered a noise complaint, but there’s nothing else I can do.”

“Do they know you’re trying to work down here?”

“Yeah, he does. He doesn’t care.”

“Right,” I mutter.

“It’s fine,” Sofia says quickly. “We can still learn plenty.”

“Damn hard to learn to play an instrument if you can’t hear it, though.”

There’s something sad about the way Bella drops her gaze. It’s like she’s wordlessly saying,Yeah, I get that, but what are we supposed to do?It’s as though she’s given up on being the sort of person who can stand up for herself. Maybe the world has beaten her down too much.

“We’re fine,” Sofia says, looking at me stubbornly.

I shrug. “Okay then.”

Leaving the bedroom, I make sure to close the door behind me. I walk quietly across the living room—not that I need to be too careful with the music blaring—and leave the apartment. An old man is leaning against the wall next to the opposite apartment door with one hand on the pommel of his walking stick.

When I see him looking like he knows me, I say, “Hello, sir.”

He offers a kindly smile. “Hello. Are you Bella’s newest student?”

“My sister has that honor.”

He winces when the music getsevenlouder. “I’m surprised they can focus!”

“I was just saying the same thing,” I mutter. “Don’t worry. This shouldn’t go on much longer.”

I walk down the hallway and up the stairs, reminding myself not to let out all the darkness. There’s so much brutality in me I could let out, so much savagery. It would be damn easy to just kick in his door and then punch in his teeth, but I promised Sofia I wouldn’t bring the Mafia life here. Still, this is just a goddamn joke.

I hammer my fist against the door until the music turns down slightly. An arrogant voice calls from the other side, “What’s the fuckin’ problem?”

I keep smashing my fist against it until he has no choice except to open up. There’s a split second where I can tell that if I were anybody else, he’d come at me like he was ready for a complete war. He’s got this automatic sneer on his face, but it dissipates as soon as he looksupat me.

“Why is your music so loud?” I ask in the calmest voice I can manage.

“Uh,” he mutters.

“Uh?” I snarl. “It’s a simple question.”

“I …” He wants so badly to play the tough guy. He’s a big guy, almost my height and width, with neck, face, and sleeve tattoos, a gray and dark green mess. “Listen, I’m just having a good time.”

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