Page 21 of My Neighbor's Secret

“Ap-peephole?”

My brain feels like it’s exploding.

If Charlotte saw me doing one of my puppet shows through her wall—if she knows Superhero Salami Slinger isme, she could ruin my life. Torpedo my future career. And why wouldn’t she do that? She hates my guts, after all.Oh, god, I feel sick.

I knew I shouldn’t have called that tow truck! I should have taken the high road, like I usually do in heated situations. But this woman gets under my skin like nobody else and turns me into a maniac. And so, I decided on an impulse to personally send karma her way. But now, it seems like karma’s made a U-turn and decided to royally fuck me over, instead. Fuck!

Charlotte is looking at me sympathetically from my doorway with Lucky in her arms. The second I opened my door to her, the dog beelined straight to Charlotte and begged to be picked up. Normally, that shocking turn of events would have enthralled me. Ever since Grandma passed away and Lucky’s entire world was shattered, I’ve wanted nothing more than to help the poor dog find some peace and comfort beyondme.But in this moment, as Charlotte’s heart-stopping revelation sinks in, I’venow got much bigger fish to fry than celebrating a breakthrough with Lucky’s anxiety.

“I can only imagine how violated you must be feeling right now,” Charlotte says sweetly, her features reflecting deep sympathy. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you about this, Auggie.” Say what now?Charlotte McDougal’s sorry? Well, that’s weird. The Charlotte I know doesn’t even know that word exists. In fact, the Charlotte I know would be relishing the chance to hit me with this earthquaking news.

I take a deep breath. “W-when, exactly, did you find this p-peephole?” If Charlotte discovered it today while I was at school, then I’ll be okay. I’ll have managed to dance through the raindrops. If it was yesterday, however, then there’s a strong chance I’m totally fucked, because I did no less thanthreepuppet shows after I got home from my classes, all in the name of making that fast-approaching deadline.

Charlotte flushes. “I found it today, while you were at school.”

They’re the exact words I was hoping to hear. But somehow, I’m still on edge. Something about her delivery—her flushed cheeks and tone—felt insincere. Am I being paranoid . . . or smart?

After shifting her weight, Charlotte adds, “When I heard you come home, I came right over to tell you what I’d found while you were out. I knew you’d want to know, immediately.”

Something’s not right here.I can feel it. If I’m right about that, then I can only hope and pray Charlotte saw something fairly innocuous she knows she shouldn’t have glimpsed through the peephole—me undressing and putting on workout gear, for instance?—and now, she doesn’t want to admit she’s seen my naked dong. Did she peek at my big, swinging dick for a bit too long while I was changing clothes? Isthatthe source of the blush in her cheeks? God, I hope so. Because if it turns out Charlottewatched one of my puppet shows—or, worse, took a video of me doing one, in order to blackmail me with it, later—then I’m well and truly fucked. I don’t know if the ethics code governing veterinary professionals prohibits the making of online porn, but I don’t want to be the test case. Even if what I’ve done isn’ttechnicallyin violation of the ethics code, I can’t even fathom the career-ending embarrassment I’d suffer if this shit comes out.

I’m now on the cusp of a full-blown panic attack. Breathing hard and feeling dizzy. “Can you, uh, show me the peephole, please? I’d like to see it for myself.”

“Of course.”

I follow Charlotte out my door and through hers next door and discover her place looks totally different than a few days ago. It’s empty, for one thing. Also, it smells of cleaning products, rather than like a truck-stop bathroom.

When we reach the bedroom in the back, there’s a stepstool, bucket, air mattress, and suitcase in there, and that’s it. Charlotte stops and points to the far wall. “It was hidden behind a framed poster forRear Window. So gross. Did he think he was being clever?”

“I haven’t seen that one.”

“Trust me, it was an Easter egg. A gross one.”

“Fucking hell.” As I step forward to the wall, Charlotte offers me the step stool. But I don’t need it. I’m a full foot taller than her.

I lean forward, and there it is. My bed. Exactly like Charlotte said. Plus, about a half-foot of space on either side of it.

My stomach revolting, I jerk away from the wall. If my gut feeling is right and Charlotte’s not telling me the whole truth, then what did she really see through that hole?

“I can only imagine how upset you are,” Charlotte says, wringing her hands. “Who knows what the former owner might have watched you doing. The good news is he’s dead and gonenow. And along with him, whatever he might have peeped through that hole.”

Oh, God.

My heart stops. Not because I’m worried about what the former owner sawmedoing, but because I’m suddenly remembering my grandma’s bed was positioned in the exact same place. From what I’ve been told, the former owner of Charlotte’s place died only a week or so after Grandma did. Which was rightbeforeI moved in. Which means it’s not physically possible that he sawmedoing anything through that hole. But, unfortunately, it’s sure as hell possible he peeped at my belovedgrandmother.

“My grandma,” I choke out. “She lived here before me—she moved in about four years ago.”

Charlotte gasps. “The former owner lived here for a really long time, Auggie. For decades.”

“Fuck.”

“Was your grandmother’s bed in the same place as yours?”

I nod slowly, my stomach churning. “I bought a new bed when I moved in, but I put it in the exact same spot as hers.”

Charlotte looks genuinely worried now. If she’s faking her concern, she’s the world’s best actress. “Did your grandma live alone? Hopefully, Lloyd didn’t see her doing anything all that exciting in there.”

I run a palm down my face. “Yeah, she lived alone. She moved in after my grandfather died. I don’t think she dated anyone while living here, so at least there’s no chance he watched her getting busy with someone.”

---