Neighbors With Benefits: Chapter 4

He was hiding something. I was certain of it.

But when I dialed the number he gave me, his phone immediately rang. He lifted the phone to his ear and said, “Yep, you got the right number.”

I heard his voice through the receiver. That was him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but why were you so weird about giving me your number?”

He held the phone up. “It’s technically a work phone. I try not to use it for personal stuff. But I’ll make an exception for you.”

Was he flirting? He said it very matter-of-factly, but I felt a tingle of warmth at the idea that he would make an exception for me. Suddenly it seemed very silly for me to have doubted him at all in the first place.

“Sorry for being so pushy,” I said.

“It’s fine. I really need to go make dinner, though.”

“Wait!” I said. “What are you making?”

“Something easy. Probably just pasta in red sauce.”

“I’m making pasta too!” I said. “It’s my special penne alla vodka. The water’s literally boiling right now. How about you join me?”

He stood up a little straighter at the invitation, clearly intrigued. Then he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Well, I’m making dinner for Bash too…”

“He can come,” I quickly said. “I always make way too much food. You’ll save me from having to eat leftovers all week. And then you won’t have to make dinner yourself.”

“Yeah,” Aiden said, nodding slowly. “That actually sounds great.”

There was an awkward moment where we both sort of smiled at each other, content in our agreement.

“Well, come on over whenever!” I said. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

I went back inside and immediately went into cleaning mode. My house was still in good condition after the party yesterday, but there were a few things I needed to tidy up to make it presentable for two unexpected guests. I finished just as the guys knocked on the front door and then let themselves inside.

“Welcome!” I called while straining the pasta.

“We come bearing gifts,” Aiden said, hefting a bottle of wine. Bash waved a foil package of garlic bread.

“Carbs and wine. My two favorite food groups.”

“Smells amazing in here!” Bash said, grinning as they joined me in the kitchen. “We brought a cab sauv to go with dinner. Thanks for having us over again, Jazz. If you feed me a third day in a row, you’ll officially be my favorite neighbor.”

“Even more than Ms. Porter across the street?” Aiden asked.

“Especially so,” Bash replied.

Aiden leaned against the fridge next to where I was stirring the sauce. He crossed his arms and told me, “Ms. Porter is in love with Bash. About once a week she asks him to come over and fix something.”

“And then she tries to take me to bed,” Bash added. “And when I ignore all her not-so-subtle advances, she squeezes my ass on the way out the door.”

I looked over my shoulder at Bash, who was leaning on the counter. “Really?”

“Ms. Porter is in her eighties,” Aiden explained.

“I think of it as community service,” Bash said with a smile. “Some people volunteer at soup kitchens. I put on a tight-fitting T-shirt and flirt with a lonely old woman who just wants a little fire in her life again.”

“One of these days she’s going to wear you down,” Aiden warned.

Bash’s laugh was lighthearted. “Maybe so! I’ve seen photos of her when she was young. She could get it. She was a ballerina.” He winked at me. “Very flexible.”

I giggled and moved the garlic bread to a baking sheet. “This is really helpful. You guys were the only neighbors who came to my housewarming party, so I need you to give me the scoop on everyone else.”

“Guuuurl,” Bash said, “you know we like to gossip.”

Aiden planted his palms on the counter next to the stove and raised himself up until he was sitting on the edge with his feet hanging off, just a few inches to the left of where I was stirring sauce by the stove. “Ms. Porter is really nice to everyone, not just Bash. She gives out Christmas cookies to everyone on the street every year.”

“Definitely an A-tier neighbor,” Bash agreed. “Along with Kevin.”

Aiden nodded. “Kevin is A-tier for sure. He’s retired and spends all his time working on his lawn. If you ever need anything related to landscaping, he’s your guy. He loves to help. We were out of town for a month earlier this year, and he took it upon himself to mow our lawn while we were gone.”

“Edging, too,” Bash said.

“Ms. Porter and Kevin,” I said, like a student repeating answers in class. “Who else is in the A-tier?”

“That’s probably it,” Aiden replied. “Although Jamie is at the top of the B-tier.”

“Jamie is tricky, because he seems like a total asshole,” Bash explained. “But he’s just quiet by nature. If you have a problem with something mechanical, he can fix it within minutes. Microwaves, refrigerators, washing machines…”

“He fixed my transmission last year,” Aiden chimed in. “My mechanic quoted me twelve hundred dollars, but Jamie fixed it in an afternoon. Only charged me for the parts, which were like fifty bucks.”

“In return, we let his dogs out at lunch when he can’t leave work early,” Bash said. “They’re both Golden Retrievers. Sweetest dogs.”

Aiden rubbed his jaw with a palm. “Linda is probably also B-tier. She’s like a walking phone book. If you need any kind of service, she knows somebody.”

“House cleaners, handymen, notaries, financial advisers,” Bash listed off. “Literally anything you need, she can recommend the best.”

“She would be A-tier, but she has a Chihuahua that she lets off leash. Little guy runs up and down the street barking at people,” Aiden grumbled.

“I should be writing this down,” I said.

Bash walked over to the fridge, where I had a magnetic white board. “I got you,” he said, writing down the names and their tiers.

“Then there are the C-tier neighbors,” Aiden said ominously. “They’re not really good or bad. They’re just… there.”

“The Fallon family,” Bash said, writing the name down as he spoke. “Married couple with two kids. They’re not rude or anything…”

“…but they’re not friendly, either,” Aiden finished for him. “Very neutral. Same goes for Christine, in the big two-story house on the corner. We rarely interact.”

“Also the two houses next to her: Mr. Pine, and Josh Jackson. They travel a lot for work.”

“Which brings us to the F-tier neighbors,” Aiden said in a spooky voice. “The ones who you’re best avoiding, and definitely don’t want to get on the bad side of.”

“Karen Dermatt,” Bash said. “Top of the F-tier list.”

“Her first name isn’t actually Karen,” Aiden explained, “but she has BKE.”

“Big Karen Energy,” Bash said.

Aiden sighed. “She’s the neighborhood snoop. Peers through her blinds and takes notes on everyone.”

“You mean like what Bash is doing right now?” I teased.

Bash paused with the marker in his hand and glared at me. “Our notes are helpful. Hers are malicious. She reports everyone to the HOA for the smallest infractions.”

“A tiny bit of paint chipped off our mailbox two months ago, so she filed a complaint. The HOA contacted us and made us repaint the entire thing.”

Bash resumed writing down his notes. “Kevin replaced his shutters, and apparently you’re supposed to get HOA approval before making any changes to the street-facing side of your house. So he got written up thanks to an anonymous tip from you-know-who.”

“She’s the house across the street,” Aiden said. “You’ll see her peeking through the blinds from the front-left room. We try to kill her with kindness, waving and being as friendly as possible, but it hasn’t worked.”

“Avoid Karen Dermatt. Got it.” I tasted the sauce with a spoon, frowning. “It’s missing something…”

“Let me taste?” Aiden asked.

Before I could say anything, he slid off the counter and took the spoon from me. He was a tall man, and his physical presence was a tangible thing as he moved in beside me. He wiped the spoon on a paper towel, scooped out another bit of sauce, and then tasted it.

“Do you have any onion powder?” he asked, immediately opening cabinets.

“Next one over,” I said.

He retrieved the spice and gave it a few shakes over the pan, stirring the mixture together. Then he took another sample with the spoon and held it out to me, while cupping his other hand underneath to catch any drops.

“Taste it for me.”

Aiden brought the spoon to my lips. I tasted the red sauce, smacking my lips. “That’s much better!”

“Onion powder brings out the tangy flavor in a vodka sauce,” he explained. Suddenly, he seemed to realize what he was doing. “Shit. Sorry for taking over your cooking operation.”

“Don’t apologize! You made my food taste better and taught me something in the process.”

“Aiden’s a gifted teacher,” Bash said. “That’s why he’s so good at his job.”

Before I could ask what he did for a living, Aiden awkwardly ran a hand through his hair and said, “There’s one other F-tier neighbor.”

“Voldemort,” Bash whispered.

“His name isn’t actually Voldemort,” Aiden told me.

“I figured as much.”

“But he might as well be Voldemort. He’s a recluse who hates everyone. He lives in the house with the faded white paint over at the other end of the street.”

“The one with the yard that looks like it hasn’t been mowed all year?” I asked.

Bash underlined Voldemort on the whiteboard and then snapped the cap back on it. “That’s the one.”

“That house is a mess,” I mused. “I’m surprised Karen hasn’t reported him for all the repairs that need to be done.”

Bash shook his head. “Karen doesn’t mess with Voldemort. She’s too scared.”

“So are the rest of us,” Aiden mumbled.

“Rumor has it he booby traps his front yard,” Bash explained, like he was telling a campfire ghost story. “He’s a recluse, so he rarely leaves his house, but he always wears camo clothing like he’s going hunting. He has a long grey beard and wears aviator sunglasses whenever he’s outside. There’s a sign on the porch that says solicitors will be shot. And another sign that says survivors will be shot a second time.”

“There’s another rumor that he murdered his wife,” Aiden said. “A few years ago, before we moved in, she just disappeared.”

“Who is spreading these rumors?” I asked skeptically.

“Probably Karen,” Aiden said with a chuckle. “And yeah, they’re likely an exaggeration. But you should still avoid the house.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said while mixing sauce and pasta together in a pot. “You’re forgetting just one thing. What tier are you in?”

Bash beamed at me. “Our greatness cannot be summarized by a simple tier system.”

“We transcend normal human tiers,” Aiden agreed.

“Well aren’t I lucky, then?” I said. “Dinner’s ready! The plates are in the cabinet over—”

“On it,” Aiden said, retrieving three plates. While he passed them around, Bash popped the cork off the wine and filled three stemless glasses from the open-air shelf next to the fridge.

“Okay, so I have to ask,” Aiden said as we sat down at the table. “Is Jazz your real name, or is it short for something?”

“Fuck me, this pasta is good,” Bash muttered, hunched over his plate. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Jazz is short for… Jasper,” I said.

“Damn. My money was on Jasmin, like in Aladdin,” Bash said.

“I had a huge crush on Jasmin,” Aiden mused. Then he glanced up at me and quickly added, “But Jasper is cool, too!”

“I actually kind of hate my name,” I revealed. “But it has a cool backstory. This wine is tasty, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Bash exclaimed happily. “It was fifteen bucks at Total Wine. I’m a connoisseur of semi-cheap wine.”

“Bash considers himself a connoisseur of pretty much everything,” Aiden said, shooting him a sideways look. “Let’s hear the story about your name.”

“When my mom was in college at the University of Colorado, she did a lot of hiking on the weekends,” I explained. “One day, she woke up early and drove into the mountains to hike Mount Apache. But she parked at the trailhead at dawn and made the climb. It was supposed to only be four miles to the top, but it ended up being six. She was exhausted. Finally, she sees the summit. With a burst of energy, she trudges the final stretch to the top… only to discover she had climbed the wrong mountain. She had made a wrong turn somewhere along the way. That’s why the route was longer.”

“Ouch,” Aiden said.

“She was running low on water, and only had a ClifBar. She probably could have made it back down, but she would have been hurting by the end. And while she’s admiring the view and wondering what she should do, another hiker comes walking up the path. He sees my mom, and then sees the summit sign, and loudly exclaims, “Mount Jasper? I thought I was climbing Mount Apache! Apparently, he had made the same wrong turn as my mom. The two of them laughed together about their mistake, and he shared his sandwich with her and gave her a bunch of his extra water. And that’s how my parents met.”

“Aww, that’s a great meet cute,” Aiden said.

“It is,” I agreed. “And when my mom got knocked up with me a few years later, they decided to name me after the mountain. Because it was a happy accident that changed their lives for the better.”

“That’s way better than the story about my name,” Bash said. “I was named after Saint Sebastian. He was famous for being tied to a tree and shot with arrows. So that’s probably how I’m going to die someday.”

“Arrows shot by Voldemort, probably,” I teased.

Bash laughed and pointed at me with a chunk of garlic bread. “I like you. You’re funny.”

“I’m just trying to make it to the S-tier,” I said with a wink. “How’d you get your name, Aiden?”

“The boring way: named after my grandpa,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong, he was great. Taught me to play checkers. But it’s not like being named after the majestic mountain where my parents met.”

“I don’t know if you can call it majestic. It’s not even a fourteener.”

Bash and Aiden both reacted similarly, shaking their heads and holding out their palms. “Not a fourteener,” Aiden muttered.

“Our mistake for assuming it was majestic,” Bash added.

“That’s the name I’m putting in my phone,” Aiden said. “Jazz the Boring-ass Mountain.”

We all laughed as Aiden tapped on his phone. Then he looked up at me, his cheeks turning red, and he hastily shoved his phone back in his pocket.

Weird, I thought.

Suddenly, Bash’s phone rang. He muttered “fuck” under his breath before answering it. “Jon. Uh huh. Yeah, as soon as I saw your number I knew what had probably happened. Give me a few minutes and I’ll hop on the call.” He hung up.

“The Hartford acquisition?” Aiden asked him.

“Yeah. They’re getting cold feet and want to renegotiate. And unlike Boston, I don’t think it’s just a negotiating tactic.” He smiled sadly at me. “I’m sorry to be a rude guest, but I have to run.”

“Not rude at all! I get it. You can take the plate home with you! Return it whenever. I just live next door, after all!”

“You’re an angel.” He gulped down the rest of his wine. “Ah, I love fifteen dollar wine. You’ve been a lovely host, Jazz of the Boring-ass Mountain. Until next time.”

He came around the table and gave me one of those one-armed hugs like we were old friends. Then he clapped Aiden on the back and hurried out of the house with a plate of food in hand.

Leaving me and Aiden alone together.