I Know Who You Are by Bh76
I looked at the cute little townhouse from the curb as my dad and brother began unloading my moving truck. I shouldn’t say little. It had 3 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. I guess what made it seem smaller was there was only one room on the main level other than the kitchen and small dining area. It was a big room though, so I’d call it a great room rather than a living room.
I had a nice wood burning fireplace, completely updated kitchen, and hardwood floors throughout the main level. My dad called it, “the perfect starter house,” when I asked him to go on the walk-through with me before I signed the contract.
I was kinda scared. I never even lived in an apartment. I went from daddy’s house to dorm, back to daddy’s and now purchasing a home of my own. I never doubted my decision though.
I was always stubborn. I read all the articles about the new generation not buying houses until their thirties, if ever. I laughed that off. I was going to own my home. Sure, I had student loans. Who didn’t? I was lucky enough though to find a job that paid well enough to handle them, and the mortgage bill, and leave some money left over to save a bit.
I got a job working for one of the big banks approving mortgages. The interviewer told me I was lucky in that they had only recently changed from wanting experience in the industry, to wanting college educations. In my mind experience was better, but who was I to tell her not to hire me. After saving every dime I could while living with my parents for a year, I started house hunting.
“Which bedroom do you want your desk in, pumpkin?” My dad shouted from the garage. I was thankful for him and my brother doing the heavy lifting. I couldn’t get any of my jerk friends to help me move. It being January and in the low teens had something to do with it, I was sure.
“No, dad,” I chirped and jogged to him, “I want the desk in the loft.”
He smiled, “Okay. Facing the living room right?”
“Grr…it’s a great room, daddy.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” he laughed, in that way that only a dad talking to his silly girl could.
I shook my head as he walked back into the house. I looked with jealousy at the neighbor to my right’s house. He had an end unit with a wraparound porch. It was a way more expensive house but was also way cuter. I couldn’t afford it though. So, no porch for me. I got a concrete landing that I shared with my other neighbor.
I did have a big patio out back. It had plenty of room for a grill and table. I had plenty of room to lay out and tan, which would save me a few bucks a month during the summer. I wasn’t worried about pervy neighbors, as we had tall bushes that shot out perpendicularly from where our house and the neighbor’s house met. It was a nice feature and one of the selling points for the subdivision.
As I was gazing at my neighbor’s house, the garage door opened and an all-black Mercedes sedan with tinted windows pulled in. I was going to walk over and introduce myself, but the garage door closed before the person got out of the car. I felt that was rude considering I was obviously new and standing right on the driveway. If they wanted to be a jerk and not meet me, fine. I’d ignore them too. I only hoped my other neighbor was nicer.
“Hey, Teagan,” my brother yelled from inside the house, “show us where you want the TV.”
I smiled and did a twirl before jogging into my new house. Anyone watching would’ve thought I was crazy. I was simply giddy with being out on my own.
***
Later that night, I was moved in. I wasn’t even close to being unpacked, but I was in. In what my dad and older brother, Scott, called a miracle, the furniture delivery was on time, and I had my great room set up, my bedroom intact, and my guest room set up. The guys from the home store even put together my grill. I didn’t ask if they did that for everyone, or just the cute girls they delivered to, but I gave them an extra twenty bucks in their tip.
I wasn’t looking forward to asking daddy to put that together for me. He always got cranky when he had to build stuff at home. Mom always had a beer ready for him whenever she asked him to put a bookshelf together for her.
I opened a bottle of Champagne and started a fire. I looked around my great room and sighed, “You’re home, Teagan. All yours.”
I took a drink and was about to put on some music when I heard a piano playing. It was coming from my rude neighbor’s house, and I could hear it almost perfectly clear. I wondered why since we had firewalls in-between units that should have stamped out most of the sound.
I listened for a bit and liked what I heard, the person playing definitely had talent. I realized after a few moments that they were playing the same thing over and over. It was like the start of a song and a verse, but instead of going into the next part, it repeated. After a few minutes, it got annoying.
I wanted to scream, “learn the rest!” but I didn’t. They may have had a little kid that was learning a new song and didn’t want to hurt their feelings. I just put on some music and melted into my recliner.
***
“How did the move go?” My BFF Abby asked me as we were getting coffee the day after the move.
“Great,” I said. “Everything is all set and all I have to do is unpack.”
“Ooh, the fun part,” she teased with a smile.
“Yeah. It’s a good thing I took the week off to get settled.”
She nodded. “So, did you introduce yourself to the neighbors yet?”
I shook my head no. “I had a chance to introduce myself to one of them yesterday, but they were a jerk and closed the garage door before I could walk over.”
“I hate shitty neighbors,” she frowned.
I saw her eyes look with interest at the counter behind me. I turned and saw what had to be the best-looking man I’d ever seen in person. He was older than my 23, judging by the slight gray highlights to his otherwise jet-black hair. He carried himself with confidence, dressed in expensive khakis and a golf shirt. The gold Rolex and Brunello Cucinelli loafers completed his well put together look.
“You’re drooling,” Abby teased.
“He’s gorgeous,” I said without tearing my eyes from him.
“That he is. I’ve seen him in here before. Always alone and always one coffee,” Molly smirked.
“Do you know him,” I asked.
“Nope. Just seen him in here. I figure he must live nearby.”
“He looks familiar,” I said as I looked him over. ” I can’t place it, but I’m sure I’ve seen him before.”
“Maybe he works for your company?” She asked.
I shook my head, “It’s gonna sound crazy, but I think it was on TV.”
She laughed, “What would a TV star be doing in a Starbucks in Suburban Chicago?”
I shrugged my shoulders, and then the barista called out, “Smith.”
I gasped, as he grabbed the coffee off of the counter and walked out the door.
“Smith Carlisle,” I whispered.
“What?” Abby asked.
I grabbed my phone and googled it. There he was. Smith Carlisle. I handed the phone to Abby, and she gasped, “He’s famous?”
“That’s why I recognized him. He was on one of those TV talent shows as a guest judge a few years ago.”
“Jesus, Teagan. This says he’s written half of my favorite songs.” She kept reading in awe. “Holy cow. It says here that he stopped writing songs a couple of years ago and basically fell of the face of the Earth.”