Nothing Special V (Nothing Special 5)

His neighbor glared back for a few seconds and turned his lip up at him. “It’s only eight.”

“It’s still too damn loud. Keep it down.” Steele turned, not bothering to wait for a response. Ruxs and Green kept watching until Steele went through his front door, slamming it closed behind him. He heard Ruxs’ truck drive off, but what he didn’t hear was the volume of the music decreasing.

He looked out the window and saw a few more people had shown up, including some females. Someone noticed him watching and tapped his neighbor, yelling something in his ear. The guy waved with a smug smile. Steele flicked him off, earning him an angry look from a few of his friends before he closed the blinds.

He went in the back room that was no bigger than a walk-in closet and took his shirt and holster off. His eyes burned from the lack of sleep. All was quiet in his tiny living space, and he’d probably fall into a deep sleep if it weren’t for the ruckus next door. Groaning loudly, he barely resisted going back over there and flashing his badge. After he ate his Hungry Man microwave meal, he was going to try to sleep; hopefully, he wouldn’t have to commit manslaughter first.

He thought about Tech the entire time he was in the shower, seven minutes to be exact because that’s the maximum time allotted for hot water consumption. He had to wash his dick and balls fast to avoid the urge to tug one out. He didn’t know what was going on with him; he’d never been attracted to anyone who looked like Tech before. Maybe it was from being around so many jarheads, Tech’s sweater vest and khakis were a new and exciting change. That neatly styled hair that he wanted to run his fingers through and mess up just for the sake of it. Just to see the man flustered and panting with need for him.

Steele sat down in his recliner with his dinner, ready to watch some mindless television, but couldn’t ignore the loud women squealing next door or the horny men’s rowdiness while they drunkenly chased them around the yard. All that, along with the headache-inducing heavy metal music.

Steele picked up his phone and called the non-emergency police number to report the noise. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long for a couple officers to get out here. After he finished eating his gourmet style Salisbury and mac-n-cheese that still had a couple cold spots in the center, he decided to look on line for apartments closer to his precinct. Maybe even one with a garage so he could get his bike from his uncle’s. He wouldn’t dare let it sit unprotected around the trailer park. After about an hour of searching and finding a few good leads, Steele heard the music shut off and everything went quiet. Checking his watch, he saw it was almost eleven. The roaming red and blue lights reflecting off his dingy walls confirmed his suspicions that the police had finally arrived. Serves you fuckers right. Partying on a goddamn Tuesday night.

Steele yawned for the millionth time and shut everything off, feeling like he’d finally get some much-needed rest. Ruxs would be there to pick him up at six. Steele was in a dead sleep, snoring and drooling when a loud crash sounded in his living room. He yanked his Glock from under his pillow and was up on his feet in seconds. He didn’t open his eyes while he listened for any movement. Another crash sounded – his damn windows breaking in the living room. He could only see behind his trailer from his back window. With his peacemaker pointed downward, he slid open the pocket door that separated his bedroom from the kitchen and peeked out into the living room. Nothing. He hurried to the window over the sink and glanced outside. His neighbor and friends were all standing on the lawn, drinking like nothing had happened. Steele surveyed the damage. Four or five beer bottles littered his front room, but what really pissed him off was that one had hit his big screen television, cracking it in the top left corner.

Steele growled and slung the door open. He realized he was only in his boxer briefs so he stood in the door, his gun out of view. His neighbor looked in his direction, a grin tugging on his mouth like he was barely holding in his laughter. The rest kept their backs to him, but when the punk turned the music back up sky high, the others couldn’t resist breaking into laughing fits.

Steele closed his door and leaned his forehead against it. Taking deep breaths, he talked himself out of doing anything that’d get him suspended or worse, fired. He was a police officer; he couldn’t bash anyone’s head in just because he was extremely pissed. He’d have to go through the proper channels and file a report. His breathing was still elevated, air hissing out his nose with each exhale, like a bull intimidating its rider.