Page 58 of The Kat Bunglar

Christian blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

Kat smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, first, check your privilege. And second, they were white... um, white men, specifically. And they wore a lot of khaki.”

“What? That makes no sense. Why would they rob you in the middle of the day in Inglewood?” Christian sat down at the edge of Kat’s settee, now more alarmed.

Kat shrugged breezily. “I guess that’s how the rich stay rich. But yeah, you two have fun meeting Smoke today. I’m off to this job interview, and then I’ll run some errands.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the job interview?” Christian ran her fingers through her hair distractedly. Hair that could use a thorough washing and deep conditioning, Kat noticed.

“Well, there’s a lot of things we don’t tell each other anymore,” Kat responded with a tight smile.

Christian looked at her and grimaced. “Look, I know things have been less than ideal, what with Joseph moving in—”

“Without my consent or consideration,” Kat pointed out.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things have been hectic. But once we get today sorted, maybe we can all look for a place together. Something bigger. We’re going to be rich, very soon!” Christian clapped her hands excitedly.

Kat smiled sardonically. “Who’s ‘we,’ Christian? You’ve handed everything over to him.” Before Christian could issue another fake apology, Kat rushed on. “But you were right all along. I do need a job. Social media isn’t good for me. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready and you need to go handle some gangsters. We both have a busy day ahead of us.”

Christian nodded, slowly walking out of Kat’s nook. Before leaving, she turned around. “I do love you, you know.”

Kat focused on her ironing and nodded her head, clenching her jaw to prevent her voice from wobbling. She managed to croak out, “I know you think that’s love.”

July 20

Los Angeles

Laila Malik

“My wife’s name is Maria Sofia. I say is because she stays with me no matter where I go. She is the love of my life. I carry her in my heart always.”Her mind inadvertently stitched together his words from yesterday. “I just wanted to clarify that I’m not in love with you.”Laila replayed the words over and over again, searching for some overlooked nuance that would make them sting less. But they remained sharp, embedded within her like tiny glass shards.

She had returned to The Portofino Hotel. This time she wasn’t lying to Jay. She also wasn’t bubbling over with excitement to see Gabriel. The waves continued to crash against the shore, the sunlight glinted off the water, making the air shimmer. A slight shadow marred her view, and she realized she was no longer alone.

She smelled the hint of his aftershave as he sat down next to her, his arms stretched across the back of the bench, the tips of his fingers a few inches away from her shoulder. He wasn’t in love with her, and yet here he was sitting so close that she could feel his warmth.

“Buenos días, preciosa,” the words rumbled out from his chest. She continued to stare out at the sea, determined not to let him see his effect on her.

“Good morning,” she responded coolly. Laila curled her fingers around the bottom of the bench and looked down, unsure of what to say.

They sat like this for a few moments, both hesitant about what the other wanted or needed. In the utter stillness that followed, a butterfly landed between them. The vibrant orange wings with the delicate black veins fluttered slightly before coming to a rest. Laila held her breath, afraid to move.

“Well, that guy is a long way from home,” Gabriel murmured.

“How do you mean?” Laila whispered, slightly in awe.

“If you ever want to find me, follow the trail of butterfly wings,” Gabriel quoted softly.

When she looked at him quizzically, he clarified further, “They hail from my hometown of Morelia, Michoacán. They’ll migrate back in the fall. They’re a wonder...” he trailed off as the monarch butterfly took flight once again towards the ocean’s horizon. He glanced at her again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “They’re like me, always longing to go home.”

Feeling her relax slightly, Gabriel continued to speak. “Is there a reason we are not going to the police right now to turn this girl in? She has essentially admitted to everything, I can easily identify her. We’ve accomplished what we set out to do.”

“I know, but there’s more to the story here, don’t you think? I mean, she was rambling about the Haitian militia; she clearly reached out to us because she needs help. If we’re in a position to help her—”

“She’s not a victim,” Gabriel said, his voice low and firm. “Her friend knocked me out with a twenty-pound vase. That’s not someone looking for help—it’s someone who’s desperate enough to cross the line, with no remorse.”

Laila winced at the memory of him being unconscious and bloody. She cleared her throat. “Kat is a young South Asian girl. I’m not saying we’re the same—because we most definitely are not—but I know what it’s like to be young and have very few resources. Sometimes we make the worst choices because there’s no one there to talk through those big decisions.”

Gabriel eyed her incredulously. “So now you’re signing up to be her big sister?”

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