Page 24 of King of Hollywood
“Have a good night,” I said for a second time, still flushed. I hate to admit this but I was a little excited that I now had an excuse to spend more time on this side of the street. Sure Felix would be asleep—which meant there wouldn’t be opportunity for chatting, or seeing his little grin while he dodged my questions.
But…being close to him was enough.
I inhaled, sighing when a waft of his lovely lemon shampoo tickled my senses.
Yes.
Yes.
That was why I was doing this.
Lemons. His smile. The mystery—the opportunity to be entertained.
Not because I liked him. Of course not. That would be silly.
It wasn’t my fault he smelled good and had a nice smile. Those were just facts.
“You too,” Felix smiled at me. His hands were still quaking as he slipped back inside his house and shut the door. It was odd, how fast he’d retreated—but I didn’t mind. Perhaps he had something to do? That was fine.
If I’d been less oblivious, I maybe would’ve connected the dots. Would’ve realized that the reason Felix quaked was not because of fear or nerves, but because of me.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I spent a half hour wandering his yard, making plans for the Sunday morning to get started. When I returned across the street to my own home, I was buzzing with excitement.
If only I’d known then, what was about to happen.
Maybe I could’ve prepared better.
Maybe.
Chapter six
Felix’s yard was harder to fix than I’d expected. Yes, it looked awful—and I’d known that. But the true horror was hidden beneath the tall surface of the grass. There were ten-plus years of neglect to pick through—and I may be good at lawn management, but I wasn’t Jesus.
It took me hours to get it chopped down to something manageable, and even then, I knew I’d have to split up the work into multiple weekends. Now that I’d taken on this task, I was quite giddy at the prospect of spending more time near Felix’s home.
Maybe…if he murdered again, I’d witness it?
Besides.
I’d never minded a little hard work. In a way, working on Felix’s jungle reminded me of when I’d been a kid and Dad had us working the farm. Typically, I’d been with the animals, and not with the crops, but the memory remained.
Dad and I were similar people. He had few words, a plan, and was adept at execution. We talked twice a year, on my birthday and on his. And that was how we liked it.
This was bringing up a lot of nostalgic feelings. Making me think about my family—about my sisters, and my mother. About relationships in general, and if I was fit to have one in the first place. I’d been told I was like a cactus, prickly and dry. But some people enjoyed cactuses. So that didn’t necessarily mean I wasn’t boyfriend material. Not that I wanted to be a boyfriend—I couldn’t possibly shop for another person for Christmas. I didn’t have it in me.
Or at least…I hadn’t.
I’d never wanted one before Felix, so I’d never pursued it. And though I had a certain fascination with my neighbor, I wasn’t sure I was even capable of being a loving, committed partner.
The only things I’d remained committed to for an extended period of time was my hobby and my friendship with Winnie.
Actually…huh.
Maybe that in itself answered my question.
I’d maintained a friendship with Winnie since childhood. Which meant I was capable of it, right?
