Page 5 of Under Control

I’m back home a few days later after a lunch shift at Stove and Smoke. The tips were few and far between but at least I got to pick up some extra hours, which I’ve been bugging my manager, Jared, about for weeks now.

Any money is good money at this point.

I find a stack of bills on the kitchen table. Electric and water mostly, though a few from the credit card company are thrown in there. We gave up on cable and internet a while ago and rely on our phones to get access to the outside world. Which is another bill I need to pay soon.

Mom’s not home. She went over to the church for her usual Thursday evening Mahjong socializing event where all the old ladies get together to talk shit about all the other old ladies that aren’t present. It’s one of the few activities that doesn’t cost money and gets her out of the house, so I’m all for it.

I start on dinner. There’s not much in the cupboards. The refrigerator is equally depressing. But at least there are potatoes, some olive oil, and a big box of salt. That’s enough to make some halfway decent French fries.

As I’m peeling and slicing, there’s a knock at the door.

I freeze and look at the time. It’s almost six in the evening. Who the heck would show up right now? I imagine a neighbor, freaking out because Mom’s hurt or something; or worse, a debt collector here to serve us with some kind of court papers. I washmy hands and think about pretending like I’m not home when there’s another knock at the door, and this time, a voice.

“I know you’re in there, Karine. I just want to talk.”

My jaw drops straight to the floor.

It’s him. Valentin. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Mostly because it’s been playing through my head on an endless loop ever since I last saw him.

But no, this is crazy, there’s no way he’s at my door right now. I don’t remember telling the guy my name, much less my freaking address.

“Karine, I can hear you breathing.” He sounds like he’s amused, which freaks me out. I clap my hands over my mouth. “And I heard that too. Open the door. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Uh, sorry, I’m busy,” I say and mentally curse myself. I’m busy? Seriously? That’s just about the lamest excuse imaginable.

“If you’re fresh out of the shower, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. Open up, Karine, before I force it open.”

I let out a sharp, surprised laugh, and storm over. He’s standing on the stoop in his black suit looking like sex and hell and death and heaven, a little stubble on his cheeks, his dark hair pushed back, his piercing blue eyes startling in their intensity. I’m about to tell him off, but all my anger fades.

I honestly forgot how insanely attractive he is.

“Oh, good, you have clothes on.” He brushes past me and into the house. I wheel around, slamming the door behind me.

“What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

He ignores my questions and looks around. I’m very aware of how shabby it must look to him, especially compared to his place. I share a South Philly row home with my mother, the same home she’s been in since before I was born. It’s old, not in particularly good shape, and all our furniture and decorations are from second-hand stores.

Back when Dad was alive, the place was spotless. He always tutted at Mom and said she’d end up like a hoarder as he straightened everything up and vacuumed under the carpet.

Dad wasn’t totally wrong. The place is much more cluttered than it used to be. But I think that’s partially because Mom fell apart after he died, and I’ve been left here trying to pick up her pieces.

“Are these your parents?” Valentin lifts an old photograph of Mom and Dad. They’re sitting together in Baltimore, the city where they first met, with the harbor in the background. Both of them look so happy and young.

I grab it from his hand and put the picture back. “You didn’t answer my questions.”

“I assume this is your brother, Luka.” He nods at a picture of Luka when he was six years old wearing a soccer uniform and beaming out from underneath his floppy black hair. “I don’t see any of you though.”

“I’m not photogenic. Did you come here to go through old family pictures or something?”

“Strange, that you wouldn’t be included.” He glances at me, eyebrows knitted.

“How did you know my brother’s name, anyway?” I’m tempted to scream at him, but I’m also too afraid of what he might do.

Valentin’s handsome, but he’s alsobig. He looms over me and his arms are the size of my head. He could crush my skull with one massive hand if he wanted to. And I remember what Merrick said:a fuck-then-murder kind of vibe.

He’s not wrong about that.

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