They pull up at the same time, almost. Chantel pulls her white 2018 Mercedes jeep around first with enough time to back into Storm’s assigned spot. Each tenant of the twenty aparment complex, whose name was on a lease got an assigned parking spot.
“Were there no spots across the street,” Storm asks out of her window. The lot across the street was for visitors of the residents of her building where Chantel should be parking her expensive jeep. Instead Storm and some of her neighbors had to park across the street more than they should because of Chantel and a couple of others.
Smirking Chantel turns to the homely girl and answers, “I don’t know I didn’t go over there to check.”
“You didn’t go over there to check,” Storm asks trying to not let out the numerous curse words that were swimming through her head, trying to be a better person. Trying desperately not to be the quick-tempered girl she had been. At thirteen Storm had felt her first pair of handcuffs around her wrist, something that became a bit of a habit throughout her teen years with her twin Winter cuffed right next to her. Their mother thought their names appropriate considering they had been born through a bad storm in eighty-three. Occasionally the cuffs were from stealing, but usually more so for fighting.
“No I didn’t, but I guess you should check it out seeing as there are no more spots here,” she says over her shoulder with that permanent smirk, swinging her designer bag.
Storm watches as Chantel sashays off to the apartment that she frequented but didn’t live. Storm couldn’t stand the girl and it was really hurting her not to beat her ass.
Storm’s younger years reaction would have been to get out and beat that smirk right off of Chantel’s face. To get out of her car and beat that privileged chicks ass would have cooled all of the heat consuming Storm. Show Chantel what she had missed living in her castle looking down on people, give her what those people would have undoubtedly given her had she ever truly left that castle. But instead Storm backs out to go to the visitors lot with a fire burning in her.
Chantel was from a family that no matter what she did for a living money would never be a problem. Never would she have to worry about rent money, car note payments, lights or gas bills. This Storm believed to be the chick’s problem. Chantel lives in a place where the world is laid at her feet.
Although she doesn’t have the same rich parents Storm has worked hard for what she has and who she was. Her car was paid for and her apartment was paid up for the next six months. Just two years ago she and her sister had finished massage therapy and aesthetician classes respectively. Together they have worked to build a business that offered at home spa services either for yourself or a group of people. They would go to a home for a girls night or a single individual but had started avoiding all-male parties because of a steady stream of propositions.
Over the last two years their business has grown substantially with them hiring two additional people, allowing opportunities for larger parties in their mix. Arriving at customers desired location they brought the spa with them including candles, music and other decorations to transform any area.
As Storm made her way across the street to her apartment Chantel’s sparkling white jeep caught her attention. Storm should have beat her ass but has learned that violence solved nothing, and she would be fine if she never saw the inside of a cell or felt the cold of cuffs again. Especially since she was running a business, now anything she did would not only be a reflection of her in the community but also her sister and their company. Still she was tired of Chantel taking advantage of both her and her neighbors, she was equally upset with the leasing office for not properly addressing the matter.
Inside her apartment Storm put her things down and went into her kitchen. Her plan was to get a glass of wine, hot shower and calm her nerves. Only en route to the kitchen her eyes land on a can of red spray paint that she hadn’t used for her mirror DIY project. Thoughts of spraying Chantel’s car crosses her mind but she laughs it off and instead poured herself that glass of wine. But she doesn’t let go of the thought. How could she when it gave her so much joy? Sipping from her glass she smiles as she thinks about scribbling on Chantel’s beautiful jeep. Thinks about how brightly the red would show on the white vehicle.
Then suddenly before she can stop herself she grabs the can and heads back out the door. Instead of telling herself all of the reasons she should leave Chantel’s jeep alone she tells herself all the reasons it will be ok. Why it will be a good thing and a kick in the ass Chantel doesn’t see coming but needs.
Storm creeps down the hall to the steps not wanting anyone to hear the dink of the elevator arriving or the whirring of it coming and going. Once outside she checks around the darkness before giving the can a couple of shakes. Taking another look she can see the lot is full, that all of her neighbors were having a quite Sunday night in. Or so she hopes because her plan revolves around not getting caught. The lot has no cameras, something else that the tenanants have complained about. None of the apartments have windows or balconies that have a clear view of the whole lot, particularly at night.
Although it is a Sunday night and traffic should be slow Storm wants to be quick just in case someone needs to make a quick run or booty call. As she shakes the can one last time she thinks what a shame, it is such a beautiful truck, too bad the bitch who drives it needs an attitude adjustment.
Storm doesn’t want to put anything too personal like bitch but she wants it to cost more than a couple of dollars to repair. Storm begins spraying the trucks side doors pretty much in their entireties. She sprays the back door including the covet over the spare that hangs on the back in a manner that Chantel wouldn’t notice until she skips happily around to open her door. Her truck will look perfectly normal upon approach but will stop her in her tracks when she sees she now has red doors. Storm giggles running off wishing she could see the look on Chantel’s face in the morning.
At six the next morning Storm got her wish when there is banging on her door awakening both her and her house guest. When she gets to it still rubbing sleep out of her eyes she finds a hysterical Chantel and two uniformed officers.
“Um good morning,” Storm greets. “What’s going on,” she asks through her sleepy haze.
“You know exactly what’s going on. What you did to my truck,” Chantel spits at Storm.
Storm doesn’t say anything just stands there looking at Chantel like she has grown a third head. “What are you talking about,” Storm asks feigning ignorance.
“Bitch don’t play with me,” Chantel screams pointing an accusatory finger in Storm’s face.
“Ok, calm down,” one of the officers steps in. But it doesn’t matter to Storm she os getting a tickle out of Chantel’s reaction to her truck. She was so calm last night when she took the spot and boldly told Storm to go park in the visitors parking lot. Now that the roles and emotions are reversed the shit is funny as hell, at least to Storm.
“Did you spray paint Ms. Jones vehicle last night,” the other officer asks. Both look bored and ready to move on to something more adventurous for the day.
With her face scrunched Storm replies, “No, someone painted your truck,” with more acting this time feigning shock. “Why would you think it was me?”
“Because I parked in your spot,” Chantel answers giving motive.
“You have rudely parked in my spot every chance you got. Why would I choose now to paint your truck?”
At that moment Storm’s bedroom companion DJ comes out in his boxers and sleepy face, “Whats going on?”
“Sir were you here with Ms. Jamieson all night,” one of the officers asks as everyone at the door turn their eyes to him.
“Yes,” DJ answers looking at the group gathered at the door strangely.
“What else is he going to say? He probably helped her,” Chantel starts to yell. “Go in there I am sure you will find the can they used to spray my truck.”
“We can’t just check her apartment without a search warrant.”
“Well get one,” Chantel venomously yells at the officer, her words laced with entitlement.
“It doesn’t really work like that,” one of the officer speaks. Storm could tell they are both tired of Chantel and the situation but Storm wants to push it on anyway. Wants to continue to see the pained pissed off look on Chantel’s face.
“Don’t they have cameras down there,” Storm asks already knowing the answer.
“No. Seems they were damaged sometime ago,” the other officer says.
“Oh, well you are welcomed to come in and check if that would make Ms. Jones feel better. I can’t guarantee the other neighbors will be as open,” Storm offers adding doubt and suspicion of others.
DJ didn’t lie. He and Storm had spent the evening together. Last night after she was done with her art work DJ had pulled up and she hopped right in. She had ranted to DJ before about Chantel and last night was only slightly different. This time the story came with some get back. As they laughed down the highway to Hollywood Nights, Storm threw the can off the Blanchette Memorial Bridge.
“Dont worry about it,” one of the officers says. While the other tells Chantel maybe she shouldn’t park in spaces that didn’t belong to her.
“Are you serious? I don’t care where I parked that doesn’t give her the right to paint my truck.”
“Ma’am there is nothing we can do. We have talked to the other tenants, who are home, no one seen anything and each has an alibi. You seem to be sure it was Ms. Jamieson but we have no proof of that.”
“She just invited you in, go do your job and find the damn proof.”
“We will not,” one of the officers states with a huff. “You can go down to the station, file a formal complaint and allow an investigation. Without a warrant even if we did go in there and find something, that evidence would be jeopardized and more than likely thrown out of any court case.”
“After all that she will have surely gotten rid of the can,” Chantel spits darting hateful eyes at Storm.
“These are the rules,” one of the officers states before walking off.
“We do have a report to file but again coming to the station and giving a full statement will be the only way to push this,” the other officer says before following his partner to the elevators.
When they were gone Chantel turns back to Storm with venom in her words, “You will pay for this.”
Storm just smiles and closes the door in Chantel’s still yelling face, “You will be hearing from my family’s attorney.”
That rattles Storm only a little bit because she knew there was no evidence and thanks to DJ she has an alibi.
“She is pissed at you,” DJ states as he walks up behind Storm rubbing her nipples through her nighttie.
“She is isn’t she,” Storm states as DJ raises her to sit on her kitchen counter. With no answer he sits her at an angle that made it easy for him to slide into her. Works in and out of her until they both reach their respective climaxes.
Later that day after DJ had satisfied them both and gone Storm notices the maintenance men outside doing what should have been done long ago. There was a security installation team working on putting up new cameras as the maintenance men hung various towing signs about private parking. Then they came around to each apartment handing out parking stickers, towing company phone number, and taking make and model of everyone’s car with license plate numbers. The effort was a little late but better than never. Storm as most of the tenants wished they would have taken the steps months ago because Chantel parked wherever she wnted and so did a few other visitors. If Storm was already home and in her spot Chantel would just take another car’s home.
With Chantel perfectly bothered and herself sexually satisfied Storm turns on some music to begin her day. She cleans her apartment with a smile as an unknown number rings across her cell screen. She doesn’t answer hoping the person would leave a message but instead they called right back.
“Hello,” Storm answers with apprehension.
“Yes. I’m looking for Ms. Jamieson.”
“This is Storm,” she answers thinking it is a potential client.
“Hello, Ms. Jamieson. This is Todd Norwell from the Law Offices of blah blah blah…”
Storm had stopped listening. This bitch has really called her mommy and daddy’s attorney. But she isn’t the only one who has a lawyer on retainer. Every since their business made a significant turn Storm and her sister had a lawyer on retainer as well as an accountant to look over their books.
“Mr. Norwell why don’t you give me your number and I will have my attorney get right back to you about these accusations of your client.” Storm doesn’t feel the need to play nice or act like she doesn’t know why he was calling.
“Ms. Jamieson, Ms. Jones doesn’t want to file any criminal charges against yo,” he offers as if he isn’t doing Storm a favor. “She would just like for you to pay for the repairs to her vehicle.”
“And why should I pay for her car’s damages.”
“Come on Ms. Jamieson be reasonable, you did this.”
“Can you explain to me what my building looks like?”
“Well you obviously witnessed me doing something with your ‘you did this’ statement.”
“Ms. Jamieson I’m just trying to keep this civil.”
“If you really want to keep this civil you would give me your information to pass on to my attorney. You would not be trying to talk me into paying for something that isn’t my responsibility. Now what is the number.”
“So you really want to take this to court?”
“If I have to,” Storm answers hoping it does not tho that far.
For awhile the other end is silent and she can tell he was taken aback. But he doesn’t know who he is dealing with, Storm has been in many of court rooms and even without a law degree she knows he has nothing on her.
“Would you like to give me your number or can I go on about my day?”
“I will get back to you,” with that Storm hangs up. She doesn’t need to say anything. He needs to go tell Chantel she really doesn’t have a case. Or maybe he will tell Chantel’s parents because she really isn’t in charge of any part of her own life.
After she hangs up Storm calls Mya Wilson, her attorneys parelegal to let her know what was going on. She doesn’t want to disturb Mr. Wilson directly but she knows Mya will call Todd back and get the details needed. She of course told Mya the truth, that she did do it and why. As she knew Mya would she assures Storm that without any evidence or witnesses her dad would have this thrown out soon if it even makes it that far.
After she hangs up with Mya Mr. Norwell calls back this time leaving a lengthy message that Storm deletes without listening to.
Dressed and smelling good Storm leaves out to meet her sister at their first event of the day. On her way out she rus into Sun one of her neighbors who stops her in the halls.
“The police came by my place today asking questions about Ms. Thang’s truck,” he states smacking his lips in a way only he could. Storm and Sun had had plenty of conversations in passing about superhero movies and other geek things.
“Yeah mine too. Such a shame,” Storm sayd with a smile.
“Bitch please I saw you,” Sun says smiling at her with an enlightened grin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Storm states feigning ignorance again but this time with a little less conviction as a slight giggle escaped her.
“Yeah ok. Just so you know I’m not the only one who saw but no one is saying anything. Some of us are wishing we had the nerve. Not only did you piss off queen bitch but they finally put up private parking signs.”
“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” she smiles turning and walking off.
“Of course not hunni, enjoy rubbing naked bodies today.”
“I will,” she states with a wave before walking out of the building.
When she arrives outside Chantel’s boyfriend walks out at the same time and as usual he gives Storm a wink. She knew he was a flirt sadly Chantel isn’t his only lady visitor stealing parking spaces, just the most obnoxious one. But this time she didn’t know if that wink was a flirt or a I know what you did last night wink.