Page 44 of The Man I Hate

He took a long drink of beer. When he lowered the bottle, he grinned. “Speaking of fucking, I’m guessing you fucked that neighbor gal for the last time. Screwed thar deal up like all the others.”

He’d never see me in a relationship, and we both knew it. I was the only one who accepted it as being reality. He was right about one thing. I had fucked Anna for the last time. Knowing my opinion of women, I was curious as to why he mentioned it.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Been thinking about that since last Sunday when you brought it up. By my guess, she’s angrier than a sack of wet cats about now. I can’t say that I blame her. If someone opened the door on me when I was goin’ at it, I’d be mad, too. Not as mad as if my partner took off running down the street afterward.” He gave me a dismissive look. “That was a fool’s move, Son.”

“We weren’t partners.”

He rested his forearms against his knees and turned his head to the side. “What were you?” He arched one of his wiry gray brows. “Lovers?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought. If you’re not lovers, then you were partners.” He sipped his beer. “You were fucking, so you were one or the other.”

“We weren’t fucking. We fucked. I painted my kitchen. It doesn’t make me a painter. We weren’t partners. I’m not going to argue about it.”

“Well, you didn’t just poke your cock through a hole in the wall and have some random stranger comply with your sexual desires. You went to your neighbor’s house, who, might I remind you, you had already been intimate with. One thing led to another, and—”

“I was there, Old Man. I know what happened.”

“The two of you were sexual partners,” he said sternly. He chuckled a dry laugh. “Now, she’s moved on to bigger and better things. Just like all the others.”

“She hasn’t moved on to anything or anyone.”

“I thought you hadn’t spoken to her?”

“I haven’t. She hasn’t gone anywhere since the stay at home order was given. If she hasn’t left, she hasn’t moved on.”

His brows pinched together. “How the hell would you know what she’s doing unless you’re being a creepy neighbor?”

“I’m attentive.”

“When I was being attentive with that dipshit that lives across the street, you said I was a creepy neighbor.”

I chuckled. “You were sitting inside with a pair of binoculars, peering across the street through the corner of the window with the drapes pulled aside.”

“Well, I couldn’t have seen through the damned things,” he said. “I had to pull ‘em aside.”

“You know what I mean, Old Man.”

“Sounds to me like you’re just as creepy as me,” he scoffed.

“She gets groceries delivered every other day,” I explained. “She never leaves. There’s nothing creepy about noticing that. Hell, it’s hard not to notice. I’m home most of the day.”

“Most of the day?” He seemed surprised. “Where the hell are you going, other than coming here?”

“Pratt and I have a few business ventures we’re trying out.”

His posture straightened. “Business venture?” He faced me and scowled. “What in the fuck needs to be done while we’re knee deep in a pandemic? You don’t need money.”

“Settle down, Old Man.” I set my empty beer bottle beside my chair and raised my open hand. “Everything will be just fine.”

He glared at me for a moment before tossing me another beer. “How can you be so sure? If you’re coming in contact with people, you could be a carrier of this disease. From what they said, you might not even—”

“They’re full of shit, Pop. Believe me. This is no different than the common flu. I don’t want to argue about it.”

“Neither do I.” He sipped his beer. He looked at the bottle like something was wrong with it. “This fucker tastes funny. In fact, it tastes like nothing. They say that’s a sign of the virus. Taste buds go to hell.”