Romeo couldn’t help but laugh at her response that she had done that to something that she had been gifted, “Definitely should have done that with all of the gifts my ex’s Mom used to give me” he laughed. Romeo then nodded, “Well, if I told you I was running a secret cult out of my guesthouse then that would ruin the fun of it” he explained.

--

“For sure. Those could easily be used for voodoo” she quips, mostly as a joke, but she too had some gifts from exes and fans that always made her wonder. “I always thought committing a crime was more fun with an accomplice,” Annie shrugs.“I’d be your first follower. A cult is exactly what this place needs. It’s so quiet.”

Neve laughed, shaking her head. “I think I need to talk to whoever said that because they lied,” she smiled back at the girl. “You’re smart. I think I’ll stick with my yoga and jogging from now on.” She nodded, eagerly wanting people to try her food. “The lemon shortbread is so nice. I love the peanut butter and chocolate chip muffins too.”

--

“Why choose? I’ll take both.” Annie spins around to survey the shop. Lighthouse Cove was much quieter than New York, LA, or anywhere the tour bus had taken her, for that matter. It had been like someone pressed the fast-forward button on her life for the last 10 years. The new pace was going to be a challenge. “So, is this like, the hot spot?”

“N-No I-I’m n-not that kind of artist….” though he wished he had caught the actual smashing of the record on camera he felt it would have been a very moving series. Clearly there was some very strong emotion there that would have mostly likely translated well to film. The photographer gripped his camera a little tighter though as he looked up from the mess to his neighbor. “A-are you ok?” he asked his head tilted to the side curiously. Like a dog would. “W-wanna talk a-about it?”

--

Annie’s eyes narrowed, noticing the man’s camera. Her career had conditioned her to avoid strangers that approached with a camera, and for a good reason, her last run-in with tabloid photographers was the last straw for her band mates. Her look softened when his grip tightened on his camera. “Don’t worry, I only smash my own property...usually.” She gives him a friendly smile. “I’m fine. Sometimes you just need to remove the problem.” Annie starts kicking some dirt over the broken glass. That could be dealt with later. “An artist with a camera. You don’t shoot porn, do you?” She lets the comment linger for a moment and then gives him a smirk to let him know she is joking.

Romeo was just on a stroll about the neighborhood and was listening to music when he heard a sound that completely jolted him out of the music he was listening to. “Fucking hell” he jumped up about two feet into the air and then looked in the distance at the glass shattered on the ground, “What was that for?” he asked with a bit of a half curious, half grumpy look on his face. “Funny you mention it, I was actually not satisfied with the stained glass ceiling I had custom made for my second guest house” he joked. Romeo definitely didn’t fit in with the pretentious types around here.

--

“A tasteless housewarming gift. Probably cursed..” she said, checking her hands to make sure she hadn’t cut them. Annie smirks at his response. “A stained glass ceiling? Is it a church or a cult you’re running out of your guesthouse?” she counters, playing along.

Jarrod was putting his guitar in his car, ready for his guitar lessons later that day. He heard the voice, raising a brow. “Hey, can’t say I do, no. And can’t say I’ve ever been asked that one before. I mean, neighbours have asked if I have any milk or sugar.” 

---

Annie kicked some of the glass further onto her property. “I’ll keep you in mind next time I bake,” she winks. She nods toward his guitar, “Hobby or profession?” With the type of houses in the area, she wouldn’t have been surprised to run into someone else in the business.

Was it really fair of Annie’s management to send her the gold record of the band she was just fired from? Maybe they assumed her escape to The Cove would have calmed her down by now, but the sting of the humiliation still burned. It was a detour..or a fresh start..she couldn’t decide. But, she knew she needed the record out of her sight. The perfectly framed accolade was flying out of her hands and down the front steps of 312 Lighthouse Way the moment she unwrapped it from its carefully packed box. With a pleased smile on her face, she examines the shattered glass covering the home’s pathway. “Hey, Neighbour! Need any materials for a stained glass project?”