COHABITATION

2

With his hands in his front jacket pockets, the look on the tattooed man's face was bored with a small side of amusement. Val looked back and wondered if this was some sort of joke or just a big misunderstanding. Money? When she realized that he wasn't going to clarify any further, she pushed him.

"Money? What? You think—you think that I stole money from you?" She stuttered her way through the response, more out of confusion and disbelief than fear. If he came to collect, she figured it must be a large amount, which still didn't make sense. If she had stolen a chunk of his money, wouldn't she be in a nicer apartment? Or be driving a better car?

"Guess I should'a specified, darlin'. Meant my product," He didn't seem to be joking, almost looked even more bored than earlier, but then Val couldn't help but smile. This really was a misunderstanding, a miscommunication of someone, somewhere, and she's not even sure how they roped her into it all.

"Don't make me laugh, your product? Does it look like I go around stealing and sampling someone's product? I work at a Pre-K for Christ sake," She huffed out a laugh, and settled one hand on her hip.

The man sighed and pulled his hands out of his pocket before he folded them in front. One glance at his boys and they walked back in and stood guard in front of the door menacingly.

"Look, I'on wanna have to do somethin' drastic. So how about you try bein' honest with me, yeah?" Val looked at the two men at the door once, to see if their face gave anything away, and her eyes swiveled back to him. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, they couldn't scare her because she didn't have anything.

"I am being honest. I don't have anything, look anywhere you want." She clipped out, with an eyebrow raised high. He wasted no time and took another step forward, in turn forcing her to take a step back as well.

"I'on have to look," He said as he crossed his arms, her eyes momentarily drawn to the muscle of his arm that was outlined through his jacket. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and softly chewed, not understanding what he meant.

"And why is that?" She carefully asked, and thought about taking another step away from him but felt the counter dig into her back. His own eyes fixated on the lip in her mouth and she slowly let it slide out.

"'Cuz, Valentina, that old as hell Honda is sittin' right ou'side, plain as day." He gave her a full smile, and her heart palpitated for two reasons. One—he knew her name, her full name, and two—why did a gang member need to be that attractive?

"What does my car have to do with this?" Annoyance had replaced any other emotion she currently felt. She had gotten off a long shift, with toddlers no less, and needed alcohol and TV to binge watch. Val watched as he pursed his lips, how could this be irritating him?

"Y'mean my car, mine. You stole my product, and I wan' it back." His voice reached gravel level once again, and she pretended it did nothing to her. Val was more focused on the irrationality of the entire situation.

"I'm not in High School anymore, I don't go around stealing cars," His eyebrows raised at that statement, and she mentally scolded herself for spilling the tidbit. That was another story for another time that did not include a gang in her living room.

"I'm serious, I didn't steal anything! And I paid fair and square for that car, so take it up with the idiot who sold it." She pulled out her phone and scrolled until she found the right contact—Dean Boland (Boland Motors). Val faced her phone towards the man and his eyes flitted down to read it before they found hers.

"Look, I'on care about some dumbass car man. I'm here for my product, and I'm gon' get it right quick, too." She noticed halfway through his response that his hand was reaching behind his back. He pulled something out from below his shirt and if the severity of the situation wasn't clear before, it was now. A gun settled against Val's head, the golden stock glimmering in the sunlight that beamed from her living room.