Posted: 21.o3.o8

On A Different Note

Chapter One

- X -

R.J Mendez was his name. Screwing up was his game.

After R.J's mother had threatened him numerous times, she had gained the guts to actually kick him out this time round. During their pitchy screaming match, R.J had roughly packed up his belongings, thrown them out of his bedroom window and called his best friend to get him out of the nutcase asylum. It had happened so quickly that R.J hadn't seized the opportunity to bid farewell to his younger brothers.

That had been one week ago.

Tap, tap, tap.

The office was a mess. Paperwork scattered the splintery wooden desk, brown leather folders littered the floor like confetti and, heaven forbid, R.J had to brush off the multi-coloured candy wrappers from his seat before he had could sit down. Coffee marks stained the burgundy carpet and a framed blown up photograph of an Egyptian pyramid hung crookedly on the splotchy, vomit-green decaying walls. Not to mention, R.J could even smell the sickening stench of something decomposing…

"So you're interested in my apartment?" Mrs. Wilbert spoke rhetorically.

"Why else am I here?" R.J snorted.

But of course, he didn't say that thought out loud. Nevertheless, R.J gave a gruff nod. "I'd like to move in as soon as possible if that's okay with you?"

She kept quiet.

R.J's back sunk deeper into the reclining chair. He felt as if he was back in high school again, sitting back and waiting for his principal to deliver his punishment. He done nothing wrong this time. The present interview had to do with whether the owner was willing to let him rent out the apartment or not.

"What's your urgency? Mr. Mendez, I haven't chosen you as my client yet."

Despite her age, Mrs. Wilbert was a pretty woman. R.J had yet to decide if her looks matched her attitude.

Mrs. Wilbert wore a professional dark ironed suit that clung on her slender figure and made her light complexion appear even lighter. Her long artificial lashes curled upwards, lips glossed in oil and eyes leering as she observed him through her thick framed spectacles. Mrs. Wilberbt's office was in a terrible state, but she knew how to look after her body. That had to be a plus. And no, R.J wasn't thinking about sleeping with the older woman. Someone like R.J Mendez would never stoop that low.

She sat superiorly behind the desk. The sun's glare shone on her back, her shadow dominating him. R.J wasn't intimidated. Others would have seen Mrs. Wilbert's nature as intimidating, but to R.J it was nothing but a walk in the park. Though, a walk in the park seemed quite attractive than breathing the same air that she was breathing.

And to think that she might actually be his landlady! What a joke!

"You do realise that it's right next to the train station, has rotten floorboards and the wallpaper is peeling off-"

"Do you want someone to rent this out or not?" R.J huffed. "If you’re trying to discourage me, why did you even put that advertisement up in the first place?”

Mrs. Wilbert didn't reply straight away, burying into the documents he had presented to her prior the interview. She stared up from the papers and surveyed him, spectacles sliding down her nose.

"You're my daughter's age, you know? Twenty-two was it? You don't seem ready for making this big leap. Are you sure you can make it on your own? Can you handle my weekly rent?" her lips twitched.

R.J sighed.

Tap, tap, tap.

It would be an understatement to not know that the woman was evidently judging him based on his appearance. R.J hadn't taken out his silver eyebrow ring, his short dark brown hair was tousled from not being brushed and his attire was slanting towards the edge of a rugged grungy casual.

All that R.J needed was to replace his worn out sneakers with a pair of thongs, pull a hat over his head with wine corks draping down from it, hold a VB and then he would be classified as the ultimate 'bogan'.

R.J wanted to bang his head on the table - he really did.

Anthony had been right when he'd suggested that he dress up for the interview. Usually, R.J didn't care to impress anyone because he knew he looked fine the way he was, but his options were rapidly running out like sand in an hourglass.

R.J was desperate.

On the newspaper ads, fifty-six Bellair Street was the cheapest apartment he could find. As he had searched through the endless thin pages and only aout four advertisements were highlighted in bright yellow. All the apartments he had selected didn’t add up to his budget range. Only fifty-six Bellair Street seemed to be the worthy candidate without completely draining his savings account.

“Will you be able to pay my rent?” she reworded the question, forehead creasing as she continued to intently scrutinise him.

"I have enough money for it," R.J pointed out.

"Now you do," the woman said. The tip of her shiny maroon pen waved in the air until it stabbed one of the documents like a target. "But it states here that you are unemployed. Sooner or later, you're going to run out of cash."

"Temporarily unemployed," R.J corrected. "I'm finding a job."

"Do you know how hard it is to find a job in Melbourne right now? And with the soon-to-be recession going on, it will be much more difficult! You could be permanently unemployed from the looks of it. You're not even studying anything. You’re young, kid. You should be at university and enhancing your education," Mrs. Wilbert said, shaking her head in disapproval. It was something that R.J was accustomed to.

You have so much potential! Your grades are slipping. Why are you always getting into so much trouble? The list would go on...

"It also says, in your history, that you've had five jobs in the past - three in which you've been fired from."

Tap, tap, tap.

R.J grimaced. Damn it. It was looking grim. He might as well suck it up and bunk at Anthony's house for another week so that he could have time to recuperate from his internal humiliation. The interview was over. There was no way in hell Mrs. Wilbert would accept his application now. No way.

Just as R.J was about to pack up his belongings and head out, he held out his hand to retrieve the documents back. To his surprise, she didn’t hand it to him straight away. Mrs. Wilbert's neck tilted on an angle in thought. Something seemed to dawn over

“I see it now. You’re a drummer!”

R.J blinked. It wasn’t a question. Mrs. Wilbert stated it without any flicker of doubt. It took him a while to respond. The comment had sprung out of nowhere and had completely caught him off guard. “Yes, I am.”

“I only realised now. It was you tapping throughout our whole talk, wasn't it?”

R.J stared down at his shaking hands. He had endured complete silence. Silence had always nerved him. Ever since he had began drumming, he could never get rid of the fidgeting habit that he had acquired for the past years. It was as if his body needed to form any sort of noise in his surrounding in order to create a drummer’s beat. The habit sometimes instinctively kicked in whenever he was anxious. Perhaps that had been the case then - even if he didn't want to admit it.

She was still staring at him. It was starting to bug R.J more by the second. He watched Mrs. Wilbert fold her legs together, leaning so close that he could feel her breath prickling his skin.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Wilbert, is it okay if I can have my documents back now? You obviously won't let me rent it out and I don't want to waste any more of your time."

Mrs. Wilbert brought the tip of her manicured thumbnail up to the bottom of her chin in a contemplative gesture. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I think I’m going to give you a chance, Mr. Mendez.”

“What?” R.J gaped, astounded. His back straightened from his languid position, staring at her as if a camel had trotted out of the Egyptian photograph behind her.

Usually his drumming reputation stereotyped him for the worse, but apparently it hadn't then. Mrs. Wilbert surely was clearly on something. R.J wasn't surprised if that something happened to be an illegal substance.

“It makes sense now. I know the reasons why you wanted to hire this place! The train station doesn't bother you because you can compete with it by drumming away. You sold off your home so you could gather enough money for some music equipment. You want to make it big, don’t you? You want to be a star! You could have told me earlier. I support this-”

“Are you shitting me?” R.J gawked in disbelief. All manners seemed to evaporate into thin air. “What are you trying to say here?”

Although it did seem predictable that R.J wanted to make it big, he didn’t really see how it related to their interview. It wasn’t Mrs. Wilbert's business to know. Sure, making it big seemed ideal, but it had never been on the top of his priority list. He wasn’t planning on becoming a starving musician yet. All R.J wanted was a place to stay.

Anthony was the only member of his band who dreamed of becoming famous. R.J had only joined the band because he needed an excuse to go spastic with his drumsticks and pick up girls along the way. That's all R.J need, really.

“I’ll ring up the electricity, gas and water company later on today. The utilities should all be working by tomorrow morning.”

Mrs. Wilbert dangled a ring of keys in front of his face. She eyed him expectantly as if he were a cat ready to pounce at a string of wool.

“I don’t understand-”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” she smiled sweetly, dropping the keys into the palm of his hand.

He was still in disbelief when he fumbled outdoors and blindly took the last step down the steel staircase. The breeze chilled him, but the sun glared. It was nothing new. All four seasons rolled into one day? That was Melbourne’s topsy-turvy weather for you.

R.J smirked when he caught sight of a battered old grey van parked on the opposite side of the street.

He jogged towards it, taking unsteady breaths and almost laughed aloud when he spotted a familiar figure lying on the surface of van’s roof. The body faced the translucent blue sky, bathing in the little sunlight that the sun produced. From where R.J was, he could see a faint smile lingering on the person’s lips.

It was just like Anthony to be doing something out of the norm. He did whatever he wanted to do. He didn’t care what people thought of him. Anthony did whatever he believed was right. That's how his best friend was.

While R.J was walking trouble, Anthony handled things on impulse. They were a peculiar duo, yet they got along like bees did with honey.

And, sometimes, friendship deserved a good kick in the –“R.J!”

Anthony had rolled over at his direction before R.J could kick the van.

“Don’t even think about it,” Anthony shot R.J a death glare that had the potential of immoblising him from its brutalness. “I don’t want you denting my van, man.”

"Your old bugger's already dented enough as it is. I was just about to add a few more dents to add to its trend."

"Sometimes, you gotta remember who's been driving you around," Anthony reminded, matter-of-factly.

Anthony was right.

R.J was on a year's probation after violating countless driving rules, with the main rule being 'speeding'. Nevertheless, R.J had stubbornly and thick-headedly drove without a license until him mother took the car off him. Ever since, Anthony had kindly been his constant chauffeur getting from place to place. After all, Anthony was R.J's best friend.

"Something good must have happened. You're smiling like an idiot and it's really starting to scare the crap out of me," Anthony chuckled. He sat up, allowing his legs to slip to the edge of the van. His body posture sparked with curiosity and anticipation, light-brown hair fighting against the wind. “What happened?”

R.J’s face twisted with hesitation, eyebrows arching as he thought up the best way to let Anthony in on the great news. "The owner's strange and-"

"Good for you!" R.J didn’t need to reply. Only Anthony could read him that easily.

Anthony leaped off the van, light freckles visible from the different angle of the sun’s rays. Anthony slapped R.J hard on the back. “Congrats, man.”

R.J was going to deck Anthony back in return, but his focus turned elsewhere.

Earthy autumn leaves decorated the street’s surface, splashing fiery colours of orange, red and brown. Lanky trees aligned symmetrically across from each other, with their branches elegantly stretching towards the sky.

R.J gazed back at the buildings that stood adjacent to the railway tracks.

Kensington seemed to be undergoing a generation of confusion. The architecture of practically every building was split between a classical and a modern style. Even if the suburb was stuck in between the present and the past, it still didn't take away the beauty from the place - and the costly expenses too.

R.J's new apartment was an ancient. It was weather-boarded and quite thin looking; the width taking up half the size of an ordinary house. Its compressed narrowness had been compensated by the apartment being structured into two stories. Albeit, it didn’t make up for the size thanks to the bottom level being a garage in disguise.

The garden remained untamed. Forest green shrubs and weeds choked the footpath leading to the door, dancing in and out of the footpath in a snake like manner. R.J made note to mow and trim the garden when he had time. Gardening was nothing near his forte, but he'd have to do it. Other than the ghastly garden, his apartment looked okay from the outside.

And to think that he was moving there!

“I still can’t believe it…”

“Who cares! You’ve got a place to stay!” Anthony said, a bit too enthusiastically. “It’s your dream. No parents. No one to tell you what to do. Your bloody dream come true, R.J!”

"Yeah," R.J answered, dully.

With a slap on the shoulder, Anthony spoke up, "Come on, man. Let's get all your stuff loaded into your new home. It's been cramping up my van's space for days."

They took about six trips back and forth from Anthony’s van. On their last trip, Anthony assisted R.J with carrying the large bass drum. R.J grunted as he almost tripped over a few pebbles on the footpath. Since Anthony was helping him out, R.J had received the bitter end of the deal and was forced to walk backwards. “You could at least tell me where I’m going.”

Anthony let out a low whistle. He obviously wasn’t paying attention.

“What now?” R.J sighed.

R.J craned his neck over at the wrong moment. His back slammed against another body and, from the impact, he wobbled on the tip of his toes. His fingers slipped and he let go of the bass drum. R.J's eyes bulged as he watched it fall, but luckily caught it in time. R.J let out a sigh of relief. His drum was safe.

Though, it couldn’t be said for the person whom he had bumped into.

R.J almost let go of the drum again when he saw the elderly woman sprawled on the footpath. Fortunately, there were no signs that she had fallen down head first. R.J and Anthony briefly looked at each other, and together they steadied the drum onto the ground.

“Are you alright? We’re awfully sorry about that. Here, I’ll help you up,” Anthony bent down and offered his hand, beating R.J to it.

“Gracias,” she replied in gratitude.

“You shouldn’t be saying thank you. It was our fault that we bumped into a beautiful lady.” Anthony's hand was now on her shoulder. assisting her up. The woman pointed at the apartment next to R.J’s.

Anthony stared at the direction she was pointing at. “You live over there? Okay! Let me walk you back.”

R.J chuckled as the woman muttered another batch of accented ‘thank yous’ while Anthony gallantly held her hand like a true gentleman. It was like Anthony to do something like that.

Just when he saw the woman’s short stocky legs disappear around the corner, R.J frowned when he caught the reason why Anthony had most likely whistled.

Oh.

“That was nice of your friend to help Mrs. Lucero.”
Yes, now R.J definitely understood.

The girl in front of him was drop dead gorgeous. Okay, maybe it had to do with the fact that she was practically nude. For a cool autumn afternoon, she only had runners on, short shorts and a tight sports crop top that supported her prominent cleavage. She had ash blonde hair that cropped fashionably above her ears and her tanned skin shone with perspiration.

“Yeah, he is,” R.J smirked.

“You must be my new neighbour." She nudged her head to the left identical apartment next to his. "I live over there. Nice to meet you." She held out her hand.

'Neighbour?' R.J thought to himself, outraged. That meant he couldn't flirt with her because she lived next door. If he had a nightstand with her, that meant he'd have to cope with egging, shrieking and a whole array of pointless arguments. There was no way that R.J was going to land himself in a headache-inducing situation. She was no man's land.

Too bad.

“I’m R.J. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. “And your name is…?”

“Lila,” she ended, flashing a dimpled smile after their hands dropped back.

She was going to be the end of him. Temptation was next door. What could be any better? R.J's throat tightened. R.J needed Anthony to come back because he might subconsciously start flirting more. Girls with dimpled smiles always had been one of his weaknesses.

“My friend’s taking long helping her in,” R.J commented, averting his gaze away from her. He checked out the apartment where Anthony had walked off too.

Unlike the row of apartments identical to his, the residence sitting on his right mocked the rest of them. Prestigious was the word. It was three stories high with delicately carved pillars to support its greatness. The size was about both Lila and his apartment combined together. The porch was spotless, being made from white glistening marble and the garden reminded R.J of the Botanical Gardens in the city.

“How does she clean that massive thing on her own? Poor woman,” R.J muttered. “Does Mrs. Lucero lives there by herself?””

R.J was starting to have second thoughts about being Mrs. Wilbert’s tenant. If Mrs. Lucero was retired, he’d be disturbing her peace with his drumming. R.J didn't want that. R.J didn't want to disrespect Mrs. Lucero.

“No," Lila shook her heat. "That’s actually where Miss Allister lives.”

“Miss Allister?”

“Yeah. Fianne Allister,” Lila replied. “A rich little spoilt girl.”

R.J's eyebrows furrowed uneasily. “The old woman’s trespassing then. Shouldn’t we-”

“Mrs. Lucero is Allister's cleaner.”

“I see,” R.J murmured and took a swift glance behind him. Anthony hadn’t returned yet. How hard was it to drop the woman off?

Lila was now bending over and tying her shoelaces, giving him a clear view of her bust.

R.J cringed. "So...do you like running?”

“Not quite. I like keeping myself healthy. It’s not a prerequisite to my course I’m taking, but I personally think it is.”

“I personally think it is too." Great one, R.J! He coughed, "What are you studying?”

“Physiotherapy at LaTrobe,” Lila said, jumping back onto the balls of her feet. Not only did she have the looks, she had the brains too. “Yourself? What are you studying?”

“Things.”

“No. Really?” she curiously prodded on. "You must be studying something R.J."

What could he tell her? He dropped out of high school at year eleven, got kicked out of home and – wait for it – was unemployed too? Very attractive. Way to ruin a man’s pride.

Before he could retort back, Anthony fortunately made his grand entrance. He cast an arm around R.J's shoulder and gave a cheeky toothy grin at the girl clad in running gear.

R.J gladly let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re hot,” Anthony told Lila, dishing out a compliment before R.J introduced him to her.

R.J thought that Anthony would break the awkwardness between them, but instead he had begun hitting on her instead.

“And he’s Anthony.” R.J rolled his eyes.

She let her head fall back, laughing infectiously. The two continued to talk, exchanging more words and occasionally bursting into laughter here and there. R.J decided it was best to leave them, marching up the staircase.

So much for asking a certain someone to help him move in.

A hot body and remarkable intelligence? Lila was Anthony’s type. There was no stopping Anthony, especially then.

Whenever Anthony wanted something, he latched on and always worked hard for it. Whether it be getting the first tickets to a gig or stuffing as many marshmallows into his mouth, Anthony would turn out victorious or he’d fail. And even if it was the latter, he’d work harder to claim his winning title.

- X -

R.J was done.

He looked around, clearly satisfied with his job. It wasn’t as homely as it could be, but it would have to do. He’d have to purchase a mop the next day. He swiped the grains of dust off the sofa before plunging into it. R.J relaxed, resting his feet on the mahogany coffee table.

Anthony's family had given him left over furniture to use. R.J really owed it to the Spencer Family. Without their guidance, he'd probably be living off trashcans and joining the homeless. If it wasn't for them, he wouldn't have had a place to stay for the past week. Unfortunately, being with them made him feel homesick. That had been the main reason why R.J wanted to leave the Spencer's place.

During that hour R.J had packed away his belongings, swept the floors that had been layered with dust, ripped apart spider webs and, in the process, found many holes in the floorboards. R.J also had filled his wardrobe with clothes, tidied up his bathroom and added his toiletry necessities.

In addition, R.J had discovered that he wasn’t the only living organism dwelling in his apartment.

There were mice.

When he had been tidying and organising the kitchen, R.J had accidentally dropped his toaster. The sound was then followed with a high pitched-squeal. The squeal still drew shivers up his spine. It was a very unpleasant sight.

“R.J?”

“What?” he yelled.

“A little help!”

R.J hurried towards the door and was greeted with a shower of pelting raindrops - and Anthony and Lila, of course. R.J quickly let them flock into his apartment before any more gusts of rain showered inside. They were both holding his bass drum between them, laughing furiously with their hair drenched in water.

“Thanks,” R.J said, stiffly. He wasn’t really in the socialising mood since he was tired from cleaning up his place, nor was R.J in the mood to join in with their flirting excitement. They were in his house, yet already R.J felt like a third wheel.

“I’ll be going,” Lila picking up R.J's negative tone in his voice.

Lila waited for R.J to take her side of the drum before leaving.

“What a girl,” Anthony sighed as they brought the drum past the kitchen and into R.J’s bedroom. “She’s breathtaking. Don’t take this one away from me, will you? Don’t bang her either.”

“Scout’s honour,” R.J saluted, jeeringly. “Are you serious about her though?”

“I think she’s the one.”

Yes, ‘Anthony’ and ‘impulsive’ practically held the same meaning.

“Stop kidding around. You’ve just met her, you dog.”

“I don’t know,” Anthony said quietly. There was a distant look in his eyes that made R.J uncertain. “She’s different.”

R.J was concerned for Anthony. He was gullible whenever it came to girls and easily let them take advantage of him. R.J had witnessed this too many times before and R.J wasn't going to let Lila walk over him.

Together, under ten minutes, R.J and Anthony set up the drum kit. And when they were finished, R.J suddenly realised something.

“Weren’t you meant to be somewhere else? I vaguely remember-”

“No!” Anthony shot up from his crouched position and groaned loudly. “I forgot to pick Dana up from her maths tutor! She’s going to kill me!”

R.J watched as Anthony sprinted out away. In seconds, R.J heard his front door creak open and then slam shut.

“And bye to you too.”

Dana probably was going to kill him.

At times, Anthony’s sister had a personality that rivaled fire. From personal experience, R.J knew that it was best to stay on her good side. It was either that, or being tossed into a cage of crocodiles. And Dana bit like a crocodile too. That also was from personal experience.

R.J yawned. The silence was murderous. If R.J was back with his family, they’d all be watching Home and Away – the ultimate Mendez family telly show. Even if his three younger siblings were boys, they’d still watch it simply to keep their mother company. Manuel would be jumping up and down on the couch, Tristan would be kicking for him to stop and Carlo would be cuddled in their mother’s arms, falling asleep. If R.J were home, he’d probably be in the next room, microwaving popcorn or preparing a bowl of chips for them all to munch on.

No. This was his home now.

“There’s only one thing I’ll be banging tonight,” R.J laughed, shaking his head to himself. R.J took a seat on his stool and grasped onto his drumsticks. “And it’s you, baby.”

R.J had been itching to play the drums for a whole week. That week he had been torn, incomplete and stressed. Finally, he had the chance to play them.

From merely the drumsticks being in R.J's hands, it elicited waves of pleasure and excitement to rush over him. R.J indulged in the prickling heat that rode over his body. His hands manically pounded the drum kit in pure ecstasy, the beats descending and ascending into a musical delirium. R.J was free. Although he hadn’t quite familiarised himself to the new apartment, whenever R.J played the drums he felt at home.

He was at home.

An hour had passed, then another. R.J played until he couldn’t play any longer. His sore hands finally gave in and he crashed backwards onto the floor with a grin planted on his lips. He sprung back onto his feet and decided to go to the kitchen and freshen up a little.

R.J unscrewed a bottle of Mount Franklin and swigged the water down in a series of large gulps. Since his shirt was soaked, R.J conclusively tore the whole thing off and felt his body's temperature drop from the colder air.

And then there was a thumping noise coming from his door.

“I’m coming!”

R.J guessed that it had to be one of the other band members. Anthony must have already told them where he lived.

R.J quickly snatched a checked red and white tablecloth from the sink and dried his face, hanging it around his bare neck and taking his dear time.

The thumping persisted.

His mates now knew that R.J was taking long because he was doing it to intentionally piss them off.

R.J laughed.

Knowing that he had played enough with their tempers, R.J swung the door open, only to realise that his assumption was absolutely incorrect.

She definitely wasn't his friend.

“Who are you?” R.J snapped, staring at the girl impatiently.

She was arguably sixteen years or younger. He ticked off in his mind: no make-up, fuzzy teddy bear pyjamas, petite, dirt-like hair and no curves. Nonetheless, she was still pretty. It was her eyes. It had to be her eyes. With piercing azure eyes, anyone would be considered pretty – even if she was a kid.

“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong house. Don't you think it's a little bit late for someone like you to be out? And if you’re fund-raising for school, I’m afraid I have no money-”

“I do have the right house because I can hear you from next door!”

R.J stared at her, rather dazed.

So she was that Allister girl whom Lila had been talking about…

“What?” she asked, grumpily.

Her hands dug into her hips, lips pouting in spite. “Could you do me a favour and keep that terrible racket down? I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve, but that noise was definitely sore to the ears!”

“Sore to the ears?” R.J bellowed, disgusted by Fianne Allister's choice of words. “You think my drumming is sore to the ears?”

So much for first impressions! Who did she think she was, storming into his house and insulting his masterful skills? How dare she even say such terrible words of the best instrument man had ever created -

“I don’t care what your drumming sounds like, or any drumming, in fact. All I want is my own peace and quiet!” she scowled icily. “Or do you know what that means?”

“I’m speaking English. Of course I know what you mean!” R.J spat. “You could have done me the honour and knocked politely at my door before-”

“I’ve been knocking politely on your door for the darn half hour! How polite can I be when I’ve been standing in the freezing cold knocking on a stranger’s door like an imbecile! Do you know how it feels?”

“Your first time exposed to the weather? Do you think I give a crap? It’s nearly winter, you could have worn a coat – or a bathrobe, since you look all comfortable in those teddy bears pyjamas,” he sneered. He bitterly added, "Oh, by the way. I’m R.J – your new neighbour.”

If she wasn’t going to make an effort to introduce herself; he would.

“I don’t care.”

R.J glowered. “If that’s all you have to say, I think it’s time you leave my place. It’s clearly passed your bedtime and you are invading my privacy. Scram kid.”

“Maybe you should be the one going to sleep. It’ll be much better than enduring any more of that that noise! Where’s your bed? Sleep!” she cried hysterically. “You have a bed, don’t you?”

“Yes!” he lied. R.J wasn’t going to show her his sleeping bag to prove he was sleeping somewhere. That was pathetically pitiful, even for him.

"You’d better not play any more of that foul music tonight,” she threatened. She shook a finger at him. “I’ll sue you!”

Sue him?

She was only a kid! Then again, by simply looking at the girl's home, R.J knew that she could actually go forward with it.

“You’ve had your say, so why don’t you leave me alone!” R.J hissed.

He was on the verge of losing his temper. He had to resist it. In case he spat an insult, he bit the end of his tongue. R.J's temper had already gotten him thrown out and he wasn't prepared for the same thing to happen again.

Fianne took his silence as a golden triumph. She pivoted to her right and as she was about to go down the stairs, she snidely spoke again, “And put something on. It’s not summer.”

R.J scratched his head in confusion. What had just happened?

Whatever it was, he didn't like the spoilt bitch.

- X -

(a/n) It's hard describing this story. I think it's because, unlike many of my stories, I love this one to pieces. I've kept it on my computer for half a year without posting it up, and for me that truly means something.

Unfortunately, 'The Girl Next Door' won't be the sole focus of this story. So if that's what you're looking for, I'm afraid this isn't for you to read. The main focus will be on R.J because if I didn't love him as a character, I wouldn't be writing this story! ;)

I must warn you that I will not be updating frequently because Clutched On is the story I really want to complete at the moment.

Other than that, I hope that you've enjoyed On A Different Note so far. Thanks for reading!

P.S. Thanks and love going out to angels and effects and audioboxer for dealing with my contant IM outbursts and helping me to finally post 'The R.J Story' up.