1. The New Neighbour
The pickup truck filled with furniture parked in my parking stall wasn't the first sign that my lousy day was destined to continue into the evening. The day had started well enough. My alarm went off on time, the coffee maker didn't blow up, and I didn't burn the toast. Once I arrived at the Library all hell broke loose when a bathroom on the second floor experienced a burst pipe sending water out towards the book stacks. The water soaked the carpets and the Library manager had to call in a plumber to fix the pipe, then a cleanup team to wet vac most of the second floor while all of us staff that weren't working the circulation desk had to remove the bottom level of books in every stack to keep them away from the moisture. It was tedious work, especially since we couldn't kneel on the wet floor, for obvious reasons.
On the way home I stopped off at my favourite pizza place, ordered a loaded pizza then went to the liquor store a few doors down to get a six pack of beer to go with the pizza. As I got closer to the apartment building I could smell the tantalizing scents of the large pizza and began to think of how it would taste when I arrived home. My plan was to change into sweat pants and a T-shirt then relax on the couch and binge watch the latest season of The Mandalorian. It was all brought to a screeching halt when I saw the pickup truck backed into my parking stall, the one I paid a premium for so that I was close to the door.
I pulled up in front of it and got out of my car, staring at it with my hands on my hips. Two men came out of the door of the apartment building and approached the truck.
"Hey, this is my parking stall," I said to the closest one, a muscular dark skinned man. "Would you mind?"
"Uh, Buck," he said to the other man, a tall muscular man with dark hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. "We're in someone's parking spot."
He looked at me. "Sorry, this is where the manager told me to park," he said. "I have to get my stuff in."
"Well, it's my spot," I insisted. "I pay extra for it so that I don't have far to walk to the door. What unit are you in?"
"302," he said. "I'll go ask him where I'm supposed to park. You can park there until we're finished unloading and then I'll put the truck where it's supposed to be."
"Fine, do that," I snapped, thinking of my pizza getting colder. It also meant he was my next door neighbour. "I'll wait."
Exasperated he looked at the other guy and headed back into the apartment building in search of the building manager. The other man stood there, slightly embarrassed.
"Sorry about this," he said. "Seriously, the manager said we could park here. You don't happen to know where Buck's spot is do you?"
I pointed towards the far end of the parking lot. He winced and looked back at the door. A few minutes later the dark haired man, Buck, returned shaking his head.
"He's not in his suite," he said. "Listen, if you know where I'm supposed to park just park there for now and we'll try to get this done as soon as we can. I can even switch both vehicles once I'm done."
Shaking my head I restarted my car and backed up to the far end of the parking lot, putting my car into the spot marked 302. Grabbing my purse, the six pack and the pizza I closed the car door with my foot. Putting them on my hood I pressed the lock button on my car remote then gingerly picked up the pizza and beer to head to the door. It was closed, the door stop had come loose making it close. This was ridiculous. Balancing the pizza as best I could I tried to isolate the security door key so I could unlock it. Just as I inserted it into the lock the pizza box tilted, began to slide and I tried to grab it to no avail. It fell cover side down into the concrete step.
"Fuck!"
I swore a few more choice words and put the beer down to pick up the pizza box. Lifting the top my heart sank as the entire cheese layer was stuck on the lid. At that moment the two men came out, seeing the ruined pizza.
"I'm so sorry," said the blue eyed man. "I must have kicked the door stop on my way in. Let me make it up to you. We'll be done in 15 or 20 minutes. I'll order a new pizza, switch the truck and your car, and still owe you a favour."
"Don't bother," I replied. "I don't need your pity or any favours."
I entered the building before I said what I was really feeling and got into the elevator. Angry at the day, at the pizza, and especially at BUCK, I stomped down the hallway to my apartment and put everything on the floor to open my door. Just as I opened it the elevator dinged and the doors opened. My new neighbour and his friend came out carrying a big mattress … king sized. Great, now he knew which apartment I lived in. With a grimace I picked my things up from the floor and backed into my place, slamming the door shut with my foot. Dropping everything on the counter I changed and came back out to the kitchen, peeled a slice of pizza off the inside of the lid, put it on a plate then into the microwave. I opened a beer and took a long drink of it. When the microwave beeped I pulled my pizza out and sprawled out on the couch. After a deep breath I took a bite of the pizza and began to chew. Immediately I spat it out. It tasted like cardboard. Looking closely I could see bits of the lid stuck to the pizza. Swearing again I went back to the kitchen, picked up the pizza box and tossed it into the garbage can. As I sat fuming I heard a timid knock on the door and looked out the security peephole. It was Buck. I opened the door and looked at him with all the disdain I could muster.
"Um, we're almost done and if you give me your car keys I'll move you back into your parking space," he said. "I'll also go pick up a pizza to replace the one I ruined. What's your choice?"
It was while he was looking at his hands that I noticed he was wearing leather gloves, finding it odd that he was wearing them in the middle of summer. He noticed me looking at them and looked briefly up at the ceiling before scratching his head.
"I have a metal hand and arm," he admitted. "It intimidates some people so I spare them by wearing the gloves. I know we got off on the wrong foot down there and I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding. Since we're neighbours please allow me to try and make it up to you."
"Okay, neighbour," I said a little more civilly after considering his words. "My name is June, and I prefer the loaded pizzas at Tony's Pizza, two blocks south on Versailles Avenue."
He took the glove off of his right hand and extended it to me. "Call me Bucky," he said. "It's a nickname."
As I shook his hand I couldn't believe how warm it was. It was also quite large but his handshake was firm without being overwhelming. We stood there for a moment not saying anything then he nodded, turned around and began walking to his apartment.
"You need my car keys," I reminded him and he returned sheepishly, taking them with a self deprecating grin.
Half an hour later there was another knock on the door and I opened it to Bucky standing there with three boxes of pizza. He gave me the top box and my keys then nodded and began to walk back to his apartment. Suddenly he turned around and looked back at me.
"If you don't want to eat alone you're welcome to join me and my friend, Sam," he said. "I got pizza for us as well. We're not …."
He let the sentence hang in the air then nodded his head again and headed back to his door. Despite my misgivings there was something sweet about how he asked and I made an impulsive decision.
"Okay," I said. "I'll join you. Just let me grab my beer and door key."
A moment later I was walking into his apartment as he opened the door for me, waiting for me to enter ahead of him. His friend Sam, was unpacking a box of books and smiled at me as I came in. He stepped forward right away, extending his hand.
"Hi, I'm Sam," he said, waiting for me to answer.
"June," I replied, then shook his hand.
He grabbed a couple of boxes off of an armchair and offered it to me then pulled a large box in front of it to act as a table. At first I thought they were a couple but as I watched them both get plates, serviettes and beers I realized they were more likely friends that worked together. It was as if they each knew what the other was doing making their dynamic more of a partnership. They both sat on the couch, also using boxes as tables and opened their pizza boxes in front of them. Both of them took several big bites before drinking some of their beer. Bucky looked at his slice in appreciation.
"That takes me back," he said to Sam. "Just like they used to make in Brooklyn when I was young. I guess Tony's Pizza becomes my go to place."
"You're from Brooklyn?" I asked, trying to be polite.
"I was born in Indiana but my parents moved to Brooklyn in the 1920s after my Dad left the military and got a job in the shipyards. I grew up there."
"Wait, did you say 1920s?" I asked, wondering what this guy's issue was.
Sam began to smile. "She doesn't recognize you," he said to Bucky then he looked at me. "You don't recognize him?"
"Should I?" I was starting to get irritated again. "Who is he supposed to be?"
"Bucky Barnes," said Sam, to my blank look. "James Buchanan Barnes? Last of the Howling Commandos? The Winter Soldier? Partner to two Captain Americas?"
"Co-worker," said Bucky, "not partner. You and I are co-workers."
"Wait, you're Captain America?" I asked, staring intently at Sam. Then it hit me and I looked at both men as if seeing them for the first time. "Holy fuck. You are … and you're …."
Sam started to laugh. I should have been offended but I wasn't. I was eating pizza with Captain America and Bucky Barnes. Grabbing my beer I drank it and kept looking at them, still not quite believing it. How did I not recognize them? Bucky finished his first slice of pizza and looked critically at me.
"There aren't many girls your age named June," he stated.
"First of all, I'm not a girl." I bristled at the condescension. "I was named after my great grandmother. Perhaps you dated her. June Gladys Norton. She lived in the Bronx."
Sam snorted then tried to look innocent. "Don't mind him. He's still stuck in the 40s."
Bucky turned red but took a bite of his second piece. "All I meant was it's an uncommon name now. I liked it in the 1940s and I like it now. The fact you kept it means you don't go with the flow. You seem very confident."
"Well, thank you," I replied. "I was born in June and my mother thought it was apt to honour my great grandmother at the same time. What's the Bucky for?"
"My middle name, Buchanan," he replied, curtly. "Why do you pay extra for the parking spot next to the door?"
I froze as it was a very personal matter, one that only the building manager, library manager, and a few of my closest friends knew, and one that I really didn't want to share with two strangers. Finishing my bite I put my slice of pizza back in the box and stood up.
"I need to go home. Nothing personal, I just can't …."
Quickly I got out of there and went back to my apartment, as the panic began to rise up into my throat. It felt like I was choking and I suddenly flashed back to two years previously when I was mugged in the parking lot as I walked from the other end where I parked my car. The raspy voice telling me to give him my purse and car keys, then the feel of his hands on my throat as he decided I wasn't acting fast enough. That was followed by the fear when he took my purse and my car leaving me without the means to get into the building because they were in the purse.
Desperately I concentrated on my breathing, slowly in and slowly out. Gradually my heartbeat returned to normal and I felt calmer but now I had a piercing headache. Running a bath I stripped down and got in, hoping the warmth would help my blood vessels dilate and relieve the pain I was feeling in my head. The pain slowly eased and after drying off I got my pyjamas on and climbed into bed, hoping to sleep off any of the after effects.
It must have worked because I woke up a little earlier than normal the next morning. Stepping into the kitchen I started some coffee, put some bread in the toaster and opened the door to see if the newspaper had been dropped off yet. As I picked mine up I heard Bucky's door open. He stepped out and looked over at me with a worried look.
"Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm sorry if what I asked you brought out a panic attack. I've had a few and they're not fun to deal with."
"I'm fine, thank you. I'm a little embarrassed by it."
"I'm always available to talk," he said. "I've been in therapy and still talk to my therapist every once in a while when I get overwhelmed. You shouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed as it obviously is something that still affects you." He looked like he wanted to say more but changed his mind. With a quick nod he retreated back into his apartment. Looking at the paper in my hand I stepped back in. Grabbing my apartment keys I locked the door and went to Bucky's door, lightly knocking. He opened it almost immediately and ushered me in, gesturing to the kitchen table. He offered me a coffee and I took it gratefully.
"Where's Sam?" I asked.
"He's out for a run," said Bucky. "I'm faster than he is so I finished sooner."
"Two years ago, my parking stall was beside yours," I began. "I work at the Library and I was on until 9 o'clock. I met a friend for drinks after work and came home about 11 pm. As I walked across the parking lot towards the door a man accosted me and demanded my purse and car keys. He grabbed my neck when I didn't give them to him immediately. I have PTSD from it and walking across the parking lot triggers it, not so much in the day but definitely at night. Having the spot nearest the door means it only takes me a few seconds to get in. I get my keys ready as soon as I turn off my car and get inside where it's safe."
"I'm sorry," said Bucky. "That must have been so traumatic for you. Are you able to go out at night?"
"Not socially," I replied. "It's still hard when I'm assigned an evening shift but my manager is understanding so I only have to work one night every two weeks. I have to pay a premium to park there because the person who lives in the apartment it's assigned to demanded it. It's worth it to me. I'm sorry I flew off the handle at you. The manager is new and he might not be aware of the agreement. I assumed the old manager filled him in."
"Don't apologize," said Bucky. "Listen, I do go on missions but I have a lot of downtime. If you want I can wait for you if you ever want to go out with your friends. Just text me and I'll be waiting to make sure you get in okay. No one will mess with you if I'm there."
"That's nice of you, I'll keep it in mind," I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. I looked around and noticed nearly everything was put away. "You're already organized."
"I don't have a lot, books mostly," he said. "You'll probably see me at the Library. It's one of my favourite places."
"Why did you move to New Orleans?" I asked. "If it doesn't trigger you to tell me, I mean."
He smiled and for a moment I saw something wonderful flicker over his face, an extremely handsome one.
"I was living in Brooklyn, trying to fit in but I felt out of place," he said. "No one knew me and it's hard telling someone you're 106 calendar years old. Everything was different … music, movies, television. I'm still not sure of half of what's on it. Women are different. I don't quite get pronouns. Don't get me wrong I'm not phobic about gays or people who are transitioning. It's their life, right? But it's …."
"Overwhelming?"
"Yeah, that's pretty accurate," he said. "I just wanted the life I had before I went to war but it doesn't exist anymore. I lived with Sam for the past year; slept on his couch really but decided it was time for me to get back out on my own."
"Do you date?" I asked, hoping that he didn't.
"I tried but I was too self conscious and although when I was 21 or 22 would probably have loved to have a girl … woman come on to me in a big way, it's off putting to me now," he said. "I guess I'm still old fashioned enough to want to be the man, do you know what I mean? I want to bring her flowers, open the doors for her, pull out her chair, get to know her first before we take it further. I'm an old man in a younger man's body."
He looked down at his coffee before drinking it and I could feel his confusion and hesitancy over how to negotiate the dating scene. Hell, I hadn't had an evening date since the attack and before that had only been out a handful of times in the previous year. I always put it down to being on the slightly plump side. I was still curvy but I definitely wasn't a waif. Several of my less than successful dates also said I wasn't deferential enough and was too opinionated for how I looked. They didn't say it in quite so nice words which often had me in tears once I got home. Briefly I looked up from my coffee and saw Bucky watching me. He smiled and looked away.
"If you ever want to hang out or go out for coffee we could always do it together," I offered. "I don't have a big social life. Hardly anything since the incident."
"A pretty girl … sorry, bad habit, woman like you?" he shook his head. "Guys have to be crazy not to be lined up to take you out."
"Well, I'm not exactly considered desirable," I began and he interrupted.
"Like I said, guys have to be crazy. You're pretty, have a nice figure, and you're easy to talk to. You're definitely a strong woman. I would have asked you out in the 40s."
The security door buzzed at that moment and Bucky left the table to answer it. It was Sam, and Bucky buzzed him in then opened his apartment door. Sam came in moments later, all sweaty. His eyes lit up when he saw me and I gathered he had probably encouraged Bucky to talk to me.
"Nice to see you, June," he gasped slightly. "I don't know why I go running with this guy. He always leaves me in the dust then looks like he's just been out for a leisurely stroll after." He looked at Bucky. "We going back for the rest of your stuff this morning?"
"I think I'll leave the weapons in storage," he replied. "I don't like having them around the apartment. Makes people nervous. I wouldn't mind getting my motorcycle." He looked at me reassuringly. "I'm not a gun nut although I own a lot of them and knives as well. They're tools of my trade, Avenger tools. I keep them in the storage locker and grab what I need when we're called for a mission."
"Fair enough," said Sam. "I'll grab a shower now and a coffee after. You making me breakfast?"
Bucky grinned. "If June stays I can be talked into it."
Both men turned their attention to me. "Sure, maybe I should get changed out of my pyjamas first."
A blush formed on Bucky's face. "I didn't want to say anything but I'm guessing they're your comfort clothes."
"Something like that," I replied. "I won't be long."
It surprised me that Bucky got to the door first and opened it for me. He really did want to be the gentleman. It was touching that there was still gallantry in a man as it had been something lacking in the men I had dated. As I walked past him into the hallway I could smell his cologne. There was a touch of citrus in it but also some lavender and cedar. It was light and definitely suited him. As I turned to acknowledge him I noticed he was looking at my lips and I was suddenly self conscious. He sensed it and backed away.
"See you in a few minutes," he said softly.
With a nod I returned to my apartment and quickly washed my face and moisturized. I slid on my skinny jeans, then put a tunic on that came down to my hips. It had a v-neck and showed a touch of my cleavage. Then I put my hair in a low ponytail and put on a couple of drop earrings, turquoise ones that were one of my favourites. I only wore makeup for work and going out but I did put some lipstick on, a berry colour. When I returned to the apartment Sam opened the door and took in what I was wearing.
"Looking good, girl," he drawled. "Buck will like this."
Blushing I walked past him to see the table was all set for three. Bucky was at the stove and had already made pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. He worked fast to finish it off and put everything out at the table. After pouring everyone a fresh cup of coffee he sat down and gestured for me to serve myself. Sam served himself then Bucky took the rest. There was a lot of food on his plate.
"I need a lot of calories to function properly," he explained. "If you want more I'm happy to make it for you."
"I'm good, this is more than enough for me," I assured him.
Both men ate quickly and were finished well before I was even halfway done. Neither seemed bothered that I was still working my way through it. When Bucky asked if it was okay if he started cleaning up I gave him my blessing. He finished cleaning the pans just as I finished my last bite of toast. Knowing they had to get going I prepared to leave then I noticed Sam nodding in my direction. Bucky made a subtle face at him then cleared his throat.
"June, if you're not busy you're welcome to come with us," said Bucky. "It's a storage facility out near the air base. That's usually where we leave from for a mission. It's a nice drive."
If two muscular men had asked me that just a few days before I would have wondered what their game was. Were they trying to get me alone and isolated for whatever nefarious purposes they had in mind? Were they just being polite? Regardless I didn't get that feeling from either of them. In fact, it seemed like they genuinely wanted my company. Maybe Sam was being polite and from that gesture he made to Bucky it seemed like he was trying to encourage him to be more sociable with me. In fact, once he asked me Bucky looked away as if he didn't want to influence me one way or another.
"Is there room?"
"Sure, that front bench has enough room for three," replied Sam. "Come out for the drive. It will give you and Buck a chance to get better acquainted … as neighbours."
"Sure, I'll just get my purse," I replied, surprised at myself.
Both men waited for me and when Sam took the wheel I realized the truck was his. On the drive out to the storage locker Bucky sat with his left arm resting behind my head on top of the truck seat. Our legs were touching and I noticed how muscular his legs were even through the denim of his jeans. I looked up to see him looking at me and he gave a shy grin before looking out the window. Sam had his phone hooked up to the radio, playing new R&B and old Motown. Bucky seemed to prefer the older stuff based on the tapping of his fingers behind my head.
"What do you normally listen to for music?" I asked him before speculating that he probably preferred 1940s music.
"Old stuff, from the war years, mostly, but I like a lot of Motown and some of the crooners from now like Tony Bennett, Michael Bublé, Diana Krall, people like that. You?"
"I like the singers you just named," I replied. "A lot of things really. My parents played a lot of music as we grew up."
Sam swerved to avoid hitting a garbage bag on the road and I was thrown into Bucky's side. His left arm came down to steady me and I had to admit I liked how it felt to have his arm around me. His face went pink and he put his arm back on the top of the seat then looked over my head to glare at Sam before looking out the front. We pulled up to the storage area and Bucky reminded Sam of the keypad code. The gate slid open and Sam drove to a row of storage doors, stopping midway. Fishing a key out of his pocket Bucky unlocked the lock and slid the door up. Under a tarpaulin was what I assume was his motorbike and I gasped when I saw it; a Harley Davidson FLSTF Fat Boy.
"This is the same motorcycle used in Terminator 2," I said, looking back at Bucky. "You've seen that movie, haven't you?"
"He has," laughed Sam. "It's kind of his nickname when I want to annoy him."
"It was in pieces at an estate sale," said Bucky, with a bit of edge to his voice. "I knew how to put it back together and the owner's widow gave me a deal to get it out of their garage."
"Well, it's a classic and I'm impressed you know how to maintain it," I said, excitedly. "Will you give me a ride some time?"
Sam looked away smirking and I realized what I had said. This time I turned red and left the storage locker to get my dignity back. Bucky wheeled it out while Sam pulled a couple of wide boards out of the back of the truck. Together they got it up onto the truck bed and strapped it in tight. Bucky went back in the storage locker while I sat on the tailgate. He brought several boxes out, putting them on the tailgate next to me, and opened them, saying he couldn't see well inside the locker. Inside were old pictures of Bucky and what I assumed were the Howling Commandos. He smiled briefly as he took them out then he showed me one of him during the war. His face was so young but the look on it was stern.
"That was shortly before I fell off the train," he said quietly. "We had an army photographer to document our missions and he took this picture of me after I looked at the zip line we needed to use to hit the train as it went by. I wasn't a big fan of heights."
"You zip lined onto a moving train?" I questioned. He nodded. "How come I never knew this about you?"
"Most of it was classified during the war," said Sam, looking over Bucky's shoulder. "Then when he was identified as the Winter Soldier a lot of the heroic stuff he did during the war got buried in the Army archives. Steve and I filed a Freedom of Information request for these to help Bucky's case once he broke away. They were finally approved during the Blip so Steve hung on to them for old time's sake."
"I'm going to leave them here," he said.
I put my hand on his arm. "Don't, I would like to see them and hear you explain about them."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because people would be interested. There's so much about you that isn't known and maybe it should be." He still didn't look convinced. "Okay, so maybe because I'm interested in knowing more about you. Yesterday I thought you were a jerk and today I think you have a story I would like to hear."
He smiled again and that glimpse of the handsome man appeared. "I will under one condition," he said, looking me in the eye. "You go out with me, to dinner, on a date."
"You want to go out with me on a date?"
I couldn't believe what he was saying. Me, the book worm who always seemed to be a last resort for the guys I had dated.
"I'm asking here," he said, his Brooklyn accent coming out strong. "Will you go to dinner with me?"
Sam said nothing but had a small satisfied smile on his face. I looked at him and he just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
"Alright," I replied. "Dinner … when?"
"Tomorrow night?" he asked. "Wear a dress." There was a pause. "Please. I like to see an attractive woman in a dress. We'll take an Uber."
Smiling, I nodded my head in agreement and Bucky returned the picture to the box, closing it up and putting it in the truck bed. He and Sam brought several other boxes out, securing them around the motorcycle. On the trip back our legs touched again. His arm was behind my head, extended along the top of the seat and he had a small satisfied smile for the entire trip back into town. So did I.