My Boyfriend's Murder (The Clandestine Series)

Chapter 5

One year before Colton's death... How we met...

The day I formally met Colton and the workers at Will's Construction was a catastrophic day, but also a wonderful one. It was the new beginning of a lot of things.

I awoke to the sound of a policeman pounding on the front door. Mom hadn't paid the rent since... hmmm... last June? I had my clothes stuffed into a duffel bag and it was all I could carry. Mom, Tyler, and I were advised we had ten minutes to leave. As soon as we hit the pavement a group of people the landlord brought were throwing our furniture out to the street. Really throwing it. Like, I saw my dresser tumbling down the lawn with drawers flying out.

"You could hurt someone," the neighbor lady in the apartment next door yelled.

The sight of our things disregarded in this way hurt. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get my things back that were left behind, but did they have to treat it like garbage?

It was the day Mom and her boyfriend, Carl, decided to move in together. It was a generous gesture on Carl's part. We didn't have anywhere to go and would have had to sleep at a shelter if it wasn't for Carl finding a cheap property in section eight housing in the development across from Tyler's and my high school. It was a three bedroom, one bathroom. The bathroom didn't have a working toilet or shower and there were holes in the walls and graffiti in every room. To sum it up, it was more like a skeleton of a house, built it the 1940's and small. When walking into the front door I nearly fell off the back porch to give perspective.

Renovations to our new place were approved by the city, and Will's Construction was authorized to start the work. The new landlord told us we couldn't move in yet but Carl begged until the landlord felt pity on us and let us move in before the work began.

I sat in the corner of what was going to be my "room" if it could be considered one with no door and gaping holes in the walls, one which had the perfect view of the toilet. No mattress. No dresser. Only woolly carpet with remnants of dirt from former residents.

There was a knock on the front door followed by the cheery sound of Carl's voice booming through the walls. "The workers are here!"

I sat in the corner of my room, unsure of what to do with myself. I didn't want to be in the way, in fact, I wished I could disappear into the background like a chameleon.

I heard a male voice from the living room. "It's a cozy space."

Cozy. That was a nice way of saying small. Small as a shoebox which reminded me of a project my second-grade teacher gave us. We brought a shoebox and made a tiny bed and furniture we constructed with construction paper for a "leprechaun" on St Patrick's day. This place would be perfect for a leprechaun, or humans from the 1940's that were apparently shorter in those days, not like the linebackers and protein fed humans of this century. I got up from the corner to see who was speaking.

A man in dark jeans and a black goatee neatly groomed looked at the graffiti. "Some creative artists paid a visit."

Carl and Mom smiled at the joke.

The man reached out to shake their hands. "William."

"Carl, and this is Samantha." Carl said, looking at Mom.

"My pleasure." The way he spoke to them like they were a wealthy couple at an art gallery and not people that were on the brink of homelessness was unexpected and charming.

A crew of the biggest bad boys from my high school carrying tools were walking into this god-forsaken heap of firewood that barely resembled a house. I went rigid. If they hadn't ever noticed me around before they would never forget the girl that lived in the shack down the street from school.