It was the most solid thing I owned, and I gripped it tight before walking to the wall and smashing it against the drywall until I saw a dent starting to form. I did it a few more times before the music finally stopped, and I realized I was breathing as hard as if I’d run a mile.
“You asshole!” I shouted. “I was trying to work!”
There was a long silence, and just when I thought he was going to ignore me, I heard, “That sounds like ayouproblem, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? How fucking dare he. “Meet me outside! We’re going to resolve this!”
He laughed. The sound was a rich, chest-deep rumble that normally I would have loved, but this was laughter straight from Satan himself. “Buddy, I don’t make a habit of meeting strangers fromyourbuilding.”
I felt a curl of shame that equaled my outrage, and I pressed my hand against the wall. “What is your goddamn problem?”
“My problem?” he asked with a sharp laugh. “How about you waking me up at ass o’clock? How about you banging on the wall when I’m trying to work? How about you moving into that place and disturbing the peace I’ve had for the last five years? You want more? Because I’ve got a list!”
Dropping my forehead against the wall, I growled softly. “I refuse to keep doing this. I live here, and you’re going to have to get used to that.”
“So the walrus-fucking sounds? I have to get used to that too?”
I bristled. “It’s a cello, thank you.”
“A musician. Great. Anyone tell you that you might want to consider another day job? Because your music sounds like shit.”
Baring my teeth, I took a few calming breaths. “I’m a tutor, and I need to be able to hear my students playing. I wouldn’t be waking you up if you didn’t stay up all night with your godforsaken, bloody saw all night. If you kept normal hours like a normal person—”
“It’s obvious you don’t understand Brooklyn,” he said with a harsh laugh. “That argument ain’t gonna win you jack shit in any court around here.”
I ran my hand down my face. “Listen, I like to think I’m a reasonable man. I need to be able to work, which means you can’t be blasting that garbage while I’m trying to—”
“Garbage? That’s cute. I know musicians, sweetheart, and they have appreciation for all forms of the art.”
I wasn’t about to have a discussion about music with this faceless, nameless stranger who seemed determined to make my life a living hell. I just wanted some sort of compromise. “Fine. The point is, I’d appreciate a little silence while I’m trying to work.”
He gave me silence in droves after that. Minutes ticked by, and just when I was about to walk back outside and break into the damn building, he spoke again. His voice sounded closer to the wall this time like he was mirroring my position.
“What’s your schedule?”
“What?”
“Your schedule. Or do you need me to talk to you like you’re five?” he sneered.
My stomach gave a little swooping trill of hope. Was he seriously offering to work with me? “I don’t have an exact one yet. Look, if we could just meet face-to-face—”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to keep my sigh silent. “Fine. I have another student coming in”—I glanced at the clock—“five minutes. Today’s won’t be a long lesson, but any future ones will be about an hour long.”
“Tell me you won’t be taking any seven a.m. students,” he said.
I smiled in spite of myself. “No. They’re kids, so it’ll be after-school hours and weekends.”
“Kids are disgusting.”
At that, I laughed. I tried to stop the sound, but it was too late, and there was something heavy about the neighbor’s silence.
After a beat, I sighed and leaned a little heavier against the wall. It hurt my forehead, but it was oddly comforting at the same time. “Just tell me what you want. I can’t lose this job.”
“No early mornings,” he said after a moment.
“Alright.”