Protected By the Monster

Roberto glared at me then shook his head, sharp and fast. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll knock next time.” He tossed a black duffel bag onto the floor. It slid into the living room and stopped with a plop against the coffee table. “Shit for the girl.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Clothes. Toothbrush. Shit from her apartment, I don’t know what. Had one of the guys go in there and take a look around.”

I stood up and put the gun down on the coffee table, barrel pointing away from Roberto. I walked over and hefted it up.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” I said.

“Good, you do that.” He gave me a vicious little smile. “Hope you have fun babysitting.”

“Hope you have fun fucking off, shithead,” I said.

He laughed and left, slamming the door behind him.

I clenched my jaw and rocked back on my heels as I slung the bag over my shoulder. I glared at the door for a second, pissed off that Roberto thought he was such a tough guy throwing shit around and acting like an asshole. I turned back to the steps and stomped over, heading up toward the girl’s room.

I stopped outside her door and knocked. It occurred to me, just for a second, that she might not be in there. Just for an insane, brief moment, I entertained the idea that maybe she ran, that she jumped out a window somehow, and that sound of her moving the furniture around was actually her escaping.

If she was gone, I was going to have to go crawling back to Steven with my tail between my legs, and I definitely didn’t want to do that.

There was no answer from inside. I knocked again, harder this time. Waited a few seconds, pounded on the door.

“Open up,” I said.

“Go away.” Her voice, muffled, from across the room.

“Look, I just have something for you, okay?”

“Go away.”

“It’s shit for you, okay? Clothes, toothbrush, shit like that.”

“Not interested.”

“It’s from your apartment. It’s your own stuff.”

Short pause. “Leave it on the floor out there and go away.”

I grunted and shook my head, annoyed as hell. Roberto was bad enough, but the girl didn’t need to be a dick too. I didn’t do this to her, didn’t choose this for her. I wasn’t interested in this job, just like she wasn’t interested in having me out here.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m going to cook dinner. You should come out and eat with me.”

“Not interested.”

“Try getting interested. We’re stuck in this house together, you know, and none of this is my fault. No need it take it out on me.”

“You’re with them,” she said. “So it’s your fault.”

“I see what you mean, but you’re wrong.” I leaned my shoulder against the door. “These kinds of decisions are over my head. I just follow orders.”

“A good little soldier.”

“Something like that.”

“Just go away.” Her voice was a little louder, like she’d gotten up out of bed and come over to the door.

“I hear you,” I said. “This is a crappy situation. But I’m just the messenger.”

“Yeah? I shouldn’t shoot you, then?”

“Pretty much,” I said, a little smile on my lips. “Come on, come out and have some dinner with me. I can cook a pretty decent chicken parm.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, just because I’m mafia, I can’t cook?”

“No, you just don’t look like the cooking type.”

“So just because I’m mafia, I can’t cook,” I said, grinning a little. “I get you. Prejudiced against mafia guys.”

“You know, I almost want to deny that, but yeah, I’m definitely prejudiced against mafia guys.”

“Fair enough, I hear you. But how about we pretend I’m not mafia for a little bit?”

“And how about we pretend like I’m not trapped in this house?”

“Sounds good to me. You come downstairs in forty minutes, we’ll act like we’re at a nice restaurant. I’ll go get some wine and food if you promise to stay here.”

Silence for a few seconds. I thought she might have given up and walked away, but then I heard something heavy get pushed. It scraped against the floor, and I realized she’d put something in front of the door to block it.

I moved away from the door, stood at the opposite side of the hall. I didn’t want to be too close when the door opened, didn’t want to scare the girl off.

The handle unlocked, and the door opened a crack.

She looked out at me, her light blue eyes narrowed.

“Are you being serious?” she asked.

“Very serious. But you’ve got to promise to still be here when I get back. I think there’s a little fresh grocer down the block I can get what we need.”

“I am starving,” she said.

“Good. You stay here, pretend like you’re not trapped. I’ll be back in a bit with wine and food. You come down when you’re ready.”

“What’s your name again?” she asked.