“I thought Chase was the owner, and Riley was the rude guy?”
“Right. Chase,” I correct myself. I grab a scrap of paper and a pen and scribble down the regulation numbers. “That Riley just really got on my nerves. Can you imagine moving to the gayborhood and not treasuring our—” I look to the book for their phrasing, “charming atmosphere and community-oriented activities?”
“You tell him,” Miranda encourages me. “You give him hell with those regulations.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Am I behaving like an out-of-control HOA member?”
“Only in a very surface sort of way. Significantly, though, you’re in the right, and you’re talking to your neighbor directly first, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
I nod. “Talking to your neighbors is always the right step.” After emboldening myself with one more careful read through, I close the book and head straight over to the garage, eager to get this all behind me.
As usual, the building is clattering, clanking, and roaring, its presence dominating the street. There’s a man sitting on a bike outside and yelling into his phone, and the scent of gasoline hangs heavy in the air.
Refusing to be intimidated anymore, I walk in with a friendly smile. When I turn, though, I see Riley behind a big window. He’s standing in what looks like the office with Chase and staring directly at me.
He scowls, his broad features scrunching up.
I tighten my brow, but then I hesitate. How is it possible he makes me so flustered and… mad with just one look? I’m giving this man way too much mental real estate.
I walk over to the office, and through the open door, both of the mechanics look to me. I manage another smile, professional and unbothered.
“Hello, hi! Sorry to interrupt. Do you have a minute?”
Chase gestures for me to come in. “Sure, anytime. What can I help you with, Finn?”
Inside the office, I only glance briefly at Riley. He’s wearing another shirt with a fantasy creature on it, this time Shrek. He seems to tense when I look his way.
It’s annoying to me that he likes one of my favorite childhood movies, but I’m not here for a pop culture discussion.
“As I mentioned to Riley yesterday, the noise from the garage has been causing some headaches around the block. Namely, the headache where all the foot traffic disappeared. Since you’ve opened, the nature of the entire street has changed.” Now, I do look at Riley. “I had asked Riley if there’s anything you could do about it,” I say, keeping my voice friendly, and turn back to Chase. “He wasn’t able to help, but I thought you might?”
Chase bites down on one of his lip rings, thinking. “The noise, huh?” he asks.
I nod as the garage rattles behind me. “It’s quite loud.”
“It is. But Riley was right to say we’re unfortunately going to be loud neighbors. There’s a certain level of noise that comes with working on bikes, and we can only do so much to keep it from spilling out onto the street.”
Riley scratches the tattoo on his neck, some kind of demonic wing that rises up from his torso.
I expected to be shut down, which is why I came prepared. “About that. There are actually regulations in the gayborhoodregarding how much your volume can affect the rest of us.” I pull the scrap of paper out of my pocket. “I copied down the numbers in case you want to look them up yourself, but the code is fairly strict.”
I shoot Riley a smile. Infuriatingly, he smiles back. It’s possibly the first smile I’ve seen from him, and it’s like a finger in the eye.
“The code,” Riley says flatly, “doesn’t apply to us.”
I scoff out a laugh. “You might not want it to, but the code applies to every business in the gayborhood. That’s the beauty of living and working somewhere like Allentown. We all collaborate to maintain a lovely and profitable environment. And while I certainly don’t mean to be a meddling neighbor?—”
“It doesn’t apply to us,” Riley cuts me off, “because our lot is zoned differently.”
“Afraid so,” Chase confirms with a nod.
I hesitate, thrown for a loop. “Excuse me?”
“This old stack of bricks is zoned as a special category mixed-use business and social establishment,” Chase says. “Has to do with the owner of the lot nearly a century ago, when the zones were set. All I know for sure is I had to pay a premium because of it, but I’m exempt from the hassle of noise regulations, among other things.”
I realize my mouth hangs slightly open and close it.
This can’t be right. They can’t have special permission to do whatever they want. But when I glance to Riley, the unblinking look on his face confirms that Chase is telling the truth.
