Page 1 of Up All Night

1

West

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The steady rhythm of the bass in some song I didn’t recognize reverberated through my ceiling and down the walls. Joining the insanely loud music was heavy foot falls timed to land with the beat. I obviously couldn’t see what my neighbor was doing at the moment, but I pictured her with an evil grin on her face as she turned the volume as high as it would go before stomping all over the room—the room she knew was directly above my bedroom.

We’d had a few run-ins, and none of them had gone well. And by that, I mean they were disasters. Throwing snide remarks, chucking barbs at one another, with plenty of sneering and gnashing of teeth added in for good measure. Yeah, it wasn’t pleasant.

I normally wasn’t a contentious person, but there was something abouther, with her flippant attitude, living in her own world without any thought to those around her, that drove me crazy.

She needed to move. There were plenty of other apartment buildings in San Francisco where she could live—just not this one.

I’d complained several times to the superintendent but hadn’t been successful in getting her evicted. I was convinced she had some superpower that had the older man tricked into thinking she was a sweet, well-tempered, picture-perfect renter. If only he knew her true nature. She was loud, inconsiderate, rude, and…loud. Okay, so I didn’t have a long list of her negative characteristics, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a valid reason for her to be kicked out. When you lived in an apartment building, it was good manners to be conscious of those on the other side of your walls—and even more of those neighbors who lived below you.

She’d never once spared a thought for her neighbor downstairs—me. From the day she’d moved in, it was like she was the only person living in the building. She didn’t care that I’d gotten in bed after a relaxing routine of a hot shower and meditation before lying down in my extremely comfortable king-sized bed, closing my eyes as I looked forward to getting a solid eight hours of sleep, only to be abruptly interrupted with whatever type of hip-hop or pop music she was listening to. I couldn’t even be sure what this type of music was. All I knew was that it was ten decibels too high.

I laid there staring, my eyes burning imaginary holes in the ceiling and wishing that little old Mrs. Henrikson still lived there. She had been the best neighbor. She was quiet and kind and would bring me her incredible Danish desserts.

Sadly, those days were gone.

Instead I was stuck with a pain-in-the-butt upstairs neighbor who gave me headaches, not treats.

The same song started over again, and it was the last straw. I yanked off the blankets, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed in one swift motion. Putting on my slippers, I headed to the door, storming out of my bedroom and down the hall, where I found my roommate and best friend, Cannon, sitting on the couch playing a video game. Ignoring him, I continued my path to the front door. A man on a mission.

“Where you headed?” Cannon’s deep voice called out, pushing one side of his headphones off his ear. “I thought you’d be zonked out by now.” He made a big deal of checking his watch. “It is 9:05 p.m., after all.”

I stopped and gave him a glare, ignoring his sarcastic tone. “Iwouldbe asleep if it wasn’t for the awful racket coming from upstairs. I swear that woman only does it to annoy me.”

Cannon rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re her sole focus.”

“What other reason would she have to be this loud at night if it wasn’t to get back at me for trying to get her kicked out?” I argued.

“Doesn’t she work at some dance studio or something? She’s probably doing some kind of dance thing for work,” he answered. “And it’s not that loud.”

“Says the guy who is wearing headphones with the volume loud enough to drown out any other sound,” I pointed out.

His answer was logical, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting to sleep and sticking to my schedule. And how did he even know that about her anyway? “How do you know she works at a dance studio?”

“I’ve talked to her,” he said, like I was an idiot for not grasping how people found out information about each other.

“When?” This was the first I was hearing about Cannon talking to her. He knew of my dislike for the woman, but with how attractive she was, I shouldn’t have put it past him to flirt with her. Although I had figured it would be bro-code, that we would stick together in our dislike for her.

He shrugged, going back to playing his game. “I don’t know. A couple weeks ago.”

“Why?” I tried to avoid the girl like the plague and had assumed Cannon would do the same. He knew all about my run-ins with her and had even been there to witness one of the not-so-pleasant exchanges.

“Dude, chill. She was trying to carry too many grocery bags up to her apartment, and I offered to help her,” he explained. “We made some small talk, and I think she mentioned something about a dance studio, and then I left. Haven’t talked to her since.”

I stood there envisioning Cannon being the knight in shining armor coming to her rescue. His handsome looks (yeah, I was man enough to admit he was a good-looking guy—and even if I wasn’t, the trail of broken-hearted girls he left behind was proof enough) combined with his chivalry might make him seem like a viable option for her to want to get to know better. That was the last thing I needed.

“Was she awful and loud, just like her music?” I asked, clearly annoyed.

“No, actually. She seemed pretty nice.”

“Nice?” I exclaimed. “Nice is being considerate to your neighbors. Nice is not playing annoyingly loud music late at night. Nice is not cooking vile-smelling meals that waft through the air vents. Nice is—”

Cannon held up a hand to silence me, pausing his game. “Okay, okay, I get it. I know you don’t like the girl. And I agree she is noisy and occasionally even smelly, but there’s nothing we can really do about it. And if you went to bed at a normal hour, the noise wouldn’t bother you so much.”

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