Chapter 1: December 23rd

Veronica jumped when a door slammed from out in the hall.

"Well, crap," she murmured, "he's home." Veronica took a deep cleansing breath, deciding not to let her new neighbor bother her. She was one glass of red wine in and wearing her comfiest Lululemon yoga pants and her favorite purple NYU hoodie. Her toes were curled under her and she had a pile of trashy magazines next to her on the couch. It was Friday night of a long weekend—Christmas weekend—and she had nowhere to be in the morning. Nothing could ruin this moment; not even her jackass new neighbor. The fact that she hadn't had more than a moment's peace since he'd moved in last week was inconsequential. Tonight was her night; she could feel it. Or so she'd hoped.

Footsteps stalked across the apartment next door that she could hear clearly through the thin walls.

Veronica took another sip of wine and closed her eyes for a moment. She missed little old Ethel, who had lived in 4C ever since Veronica had moved in five years ago. Ethel had been cute, and quiet…she'd baked cookies.

Still, Veronica had been hopeful when she'd heard that a cute new guy was moving in next door, giddy even. A little eye candy would spruce up the old walls of this outdated apartment building. Well, that's what she'd thought at the time. Now…well, now things had changed. She hadn't even caught a glimpse of the guy, but he'd already pissed her off more times than she could count.

She waited for the blare of classic rock or some crappy indie, garage band that no one but him had ever even heard of, but it didn't come.

Veronica turned her head toward her companion. "Wait, Indy, do you hear that?"

The pit bull lying on the other end of the couch opened one eye to look at her but didn't budge.

"That, my friend, is the sound of silence," Veronica whispered. Sighing, she sank a little deeper into the couch. "Finally."

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time. We're simply having a wonderful Christmas time.

"No!" Veronica announced, tossing the magazine aside.

The party's on. The spirits up. We're here tonight. And that's enough.

One thing was right—she sure as hell had had enough.

This couldn't be happening. She couldn't afford to move.

"Indy," she huffed, "he's graduated from shitty rock to Christmas music." And shitty Christmas music at that. "Ugh!" One didn't blare music with walls this thin; it was just about common courtesy.

Veronica thought of the long weekend ahead of her. The nice, long quiet weekend she'd planned did not include Paul McCartney.

Veronica popped up to sitting and pulled herself to her feet. She stalked to the door, where she paused for a moment, glancing over at Indy and silently calculating whether or not she'd need backup. Taking a pitbull to yell at one's neighbor definitely made a statement. The pooch was now sitting up and alert, but he didn't look eager to follow her. Lazy dog, she thought affectionately. In the spirit of the season, she decided to take a less aggressive approach.

Leaving her door ajar so that she could make a hasty retreat if necessary, Veronica walked purposefully down the hall to 4C. Setting her jaw, she raised her arm and knocked. No answer. Of course he couldn't hear her over all that racket. She knocked again, harder.

The music silenced, and Veronica wondered if he'd gotten the point without the confrontation. Appeased, she turned to make her way back to her apartment when the door of 4C swung open.

She stopped in her tracks and turned. Expecting to see a tattooed, pierced menace with horns and claws, Veronica was surprised to see warm brown eyes instead. He had a nice body—his shoulders were broad and his maroon henley pulled a little across his muscled chest. Veronica's heart was beating wildly within her own chest. Wow, he really was cute. Less Devil-like and more…

"Oh, a tiny blonde. I think you've got the wrong place…I didn't order an elf for Christmas, but I suppose I'll manage to find something to do with you."

"Elf?" she scoffed.

He waggled his eyebrows and set a hand on his chest. "Maybe the Ghost of Christmas future?"

Sarcasm oozed from his lop-sided, snarky mouth. Suddenly her mission in coming here became all too clear. Looks could be deceiving; she of all people knew that. Veronica opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"Look if you're selling something, I'm afraid that—"

Veronica felt her blood boil. The audacity! "It's past eleven o'clock. What the hell would I be selling?"

His lips smirked again, wider this time. If Veronica didn't know better, she'd almost think he looked…pleased.

"Not selling anything?" Jackass took a long look up and down her, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. The smirk never faltered. Veronica willed herself not to become self-conscious under his scrutiny. "You can't be a singing elf with a salacious tune, because…no costume." He paused for a moment once again, scratching his chin in mock deep thought, and Veronica felt her blood boil. "Well, then I'll take the bait. What can I do for you this evening?"

"You can turn your music down so that the rest of the building can sleep…or read…or whatever other peaceful activity normal people do in the evening. That's what you can do for me!" Jackass, she added silently.

His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "Oh, you're the neighbor," he said, tapping the side of his temple as if jogging a memory. "I've been warned about you. Perky, blonde private detective with a scary dog." Jackass put both arms on the molding of the door and leaned toward her. "I didn't expect you to be so…" he released his arms and wiggled his fingers before him as if searching for a word… "miniature?"

Veronica didn't ever remember a time when she had hated someone so completely on first sight—or, if she were being truthful, on first hear. And she was from Neptune, California, so that was saying something. She forced herself to rein in her temper.

She didn't have to like him, but she did have to live next to him. "Yes…well, my size isn't the issue here. Your noise level is: slamming doors when you come and go, music blaring at all hours. And now Christmas music!"

"Oh, you just hate Christmas! Grinch!" he rejoined. "It's Christmas Eve! You're trying to steal my Christmas."

"It's Christmas Eve eve," she returned crisply.

That brightened him. His eyes widened as though all of the world's knowledge was now suddenly his. "Fine, it's the antepenultimate of Christmas!" he announced. "And you're the Grinch who stole it."

What did vocabulary have to do with anything? He was infuriating! "And I'm not a Grinch! Some of us would like to choose our own listening material. It's only polite to respect—"

He poked a finger accusingly at her. "You are the Grinch, here to take my Who-pudding and my roast beast."

Veronica willed herself not to smile. She refused to be mollified with Dr. Seuss quotes by a (admittedly cute, but that was beside the point) smirking jackass.

"Every party has a pooper—" he began.

"This isn't a party," she said, indicating the empty apartment behind him. Oddly clean for a guy who just moved in, she acknowledged, but then shook it out of her head and turned her attention back to him. "This is one asshole every night the one week he's lived here."

He just laughed, which made her angrier.

"You're really not going to turn it down?" she asked, incredulous.

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'P'.

Veronica laughed despite herself, a mirthless chuckle that escaped her merely because it was that or punch him in the face, and she didn't want to spend Christmas weekend in jail—though it was surely quieter than her apartment at the moment.

Veronica clenched her hands into a fist but kept them by her side. "Fine, I'll speak to Eli, the super, when he comes back after Christmas."

"Excellent. He's my family's housekeeper's grandson. I'll text him and tell him to expect your visit. We're good friends, he and I," Jackass replied.

Fabulous! She opened her mouth to speak when he cut her off, yet again.

"Merry Christmas, Grinch," Jackass singsonged as he stepped backward into his apartment and swung the door shut in her face.

"Same to you," she called out in her Amber voice. "Now I'm going to go back to my apartment and shut the door like a civilized human being."

The only response from the other side of the door was the sound of Paul McCartney's voice, even louder this time.

Veronica walked back to her apartment and shut the door quietly even though Jackass wouldn't hear it. It was the principal of the thing. Besides she didn't need to get mad now—no, she'd get even. She'd already begun mentally making a list of ways she could hurt the man next door—without getting arrested—using only her bare hands.

She looked at Indy, still sitting on the couch where she'd left him. "Thanks a lot for the support, pal. Next time I'm getting the yappy chihuahua," she grumbled at him.