It’s as if he yanks out the electrical cord responsible for my snippy attitude when he says, “I wasn’t lying about Eduardo. He didn’t murmur your name once. You weren’t on his mind at all when I punished him for hurting you.”
Aware he only said his comment to return my serve, and a little unsure how to react to his confession he killed Eddie because he hurt me, I stab my house key into the rusty lock on my apartment’s front door before pushing open the water-damaged wood.
“We’re behind on the electric bill. There’s a torch on the kitchen counter,” I advise Dimitri when his multiple flicks of the light switch fail to illuminate the room.
It’s the fight of my life not to let my laughter be heard when he crashes into the entry table I purposely forgot to warn him about. He can’t bitch-slap my attitude back to next week because he didn’t look where he was going.
After lighting a candle on the dresser in my room, I head for my overflowing closet. One of the benefits of stunted growth is the ability to wear clothes from my teen days. My height hasn’t altered since I got my learner’s permit, and despite my budget only affording me the privilege of grease-laden food, my waist is around the same size as well.
I sense Dimitri’s presence before I hear him rummage through the bag I’ve just commenced packing. With Estelle at work, it isn’t hard to miss the disapproving huff of someone hating my sense of style.
“You won’t need any of this.” He upends my bag onto my bed before he drags his narrowed gaze over my candlelit room. The further his eyes travel, the more disgust crosses his features. “You won’t need any of this.”
I sound like a whiny brat when I snap out, “You said I could pack my things.”
“Yeah, things you need. Not this junk.”
Heat creeps up my neck when I struggle to hold in a blood-curdling scream. “These are things I need. They’re all I have.”
My anger shifts to confusion when he replies, “Then we’ll get you new things.” He slants his head to the side and arches a brow. “Better things.”
I thought begging for my life was embarrassing, but this is ten times worse. “I can’t afford new things. That’s why I have these things.”
“Sorry. Let me rephrase.” Think of the most arrogant man you’ve ever seen in your life. His attitude wouldn’t be one-third of Dimitri’s right now. “I will get you new things.”
“Fine.” He’s shocked by how quickly I cave, but I’m done arguing for today. I’m cold, hungry, and hormonal. If anyone should be in fear of their life, it shouldn’t be me. “But I’m taking this.”
I snag the most hideous-looking dressing gown you could imagine in your life off the end of my bed. It’s a replica of the one Fran Drescher wore on The Nanny, one of my all-time favorite sitcoms.
“And them.”
I snatch a pair of panties out of Dimitri’s hand that I only ever wear when I’m worried about exploding tampons.
“And this.”
My voice is nowhere near as punchy as it was when I snag my nanna’s photograph off my nightstand. Even with her death still not feeling real to me, I miss her so much.
“Is that it?” My brashness isn’t the only thing taking a back seat, so is Dimitri’s bossy demeanor. He doesn’t know who the lady in the frame is, but the wetness filling my eyes makes it obvious that she was important to me.
My head bobs up and down two times before it switches to a shake. “One last thing.”
After blowing out the candle, so we don’t start a fire, Dimitri follows my walk to an ancient tape recorder on the entryway table, taking a wide birth to ensure his crotch doesn’t once again become friendly with its poky edges.
Once I’ve exhaled to clear my voice of nerves, I push record on the device before lifting it to my mouth. Dimitri almost jumps out of his skin when I scream at the top of my lungs. “I got the job! Thirty-five smoking big ones an hour for the next four weeks minimum.” I have to be over-the-top dramatic, or Estelle will never believe my ruse. “The thing is, the ridiculous amount is because it’s a live-in position. Mr. Petretti is graveyard ready.” I drift my eyes to Dimitri when I feel the heat of his rising blood pressure. “He’s old, like hideously archaic. He has wrinkles and gray hair. I doubt even Viagra can help him now.” After hitting Dimitri with a frisky wink, hopeful it won’t see me murdered where I stand, I get back to the task at hand. “Anyhoo, I just wanted to let you know why I’m AWOL… because I’m wiping an old dude’s ass like we always knew I would. Ciao, chica. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
With a hard swallow, I hit the stop button before placing the recorder back into its rightful place. Even with me seemingly exuding a ton of confidence, my hands shake when I tie a red ribbon around the recorder’s overused exterior. It’s our equivalent of a blinking red light on the answering machine we can’t afford.
I want to believe Dimitri will uphold his side of our agreement once his daughter is returned, but a part of me is worried he’s never been taught the principle of honesty. He said it himself, he cheated on his wife multiple times, so why would he be honorable to a woman he hardly knows?
I’m snapped from my dreary mood by Dimitri’s curt tone. “Let’s go.” He nudges his head to my partially cracked open door as he’s over the depressing environment I call home as much as me.
After a final glance at the dim and dreary space, I shadow his walk to the elevator cart, my steps slow and lethargic. This place might be a dump, but it’s the only true home I’ve ever had.
We ride the elevator in silence. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s uncomfortable, it’s more foreign than anything. Silence isn’t something I often crave. I did it many times before my parents dropped me off to live with my grandparents. Even something as simple as breathing too loudly got me in trouble when Mother woke up angry. That was more often than not when I was a child.
I safeguard my grandmother’s picture under my dressing gown when our trek through the foyer of my building reveals the heavens have opened up. It isn’t pouring rain like it was the night I first crossed paths with Dimitri, but it has the possibility of wrecking the only photograph I have of her.
I’m just about to dart through two parked cars when my arm is jerked out of its socket. I’m about to give Dimitri an ear full, but the brutal roar of an SUV whizzing past my face stuffs my words into the back of my throat.
“Jesus Christ, Roxanne! You almost got yourself killed.” My eyes bounce between Dimitri’s when he pins me to the back of an outdated minivan with shaky, splayed hands. “You need to start paying attention to your surroundings, or one day, it won’t be a close call.” My dress is soaked through, but I don’t feel the cold. There’s too much fury radiating out of Dimitri for me to feel the slightest chill. “Did your near-miss at the hospital teach you nothing?”
“That was you?” Shock highlights my tone. The eyes peering at me through the crack in the window all those months ago were undeniably dangerous, but they didn’t have the risqué edge Dimitri’s have, so I was confident it wasn’t him. “You were outside the hospital when I was discharged?”