Page 3 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
J.T. Lockers.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me it wasn’t routine mail.
But what could this be about?
A deep sigh escaped my lips as I read the first line in the pop-up notification.
Nothing good ever comes out of an email starting with ‘We appreciate your patronage in the past….’
I decided that, whatever it was, I would deal with it later, after tonight.
***
The strong smell of my citrus shampoo and conditioner followed me as I sprinted to my dresser. Just as my phone’s ringtone was about to end, I picked up.
“Kat,” my dad’s cool voice filled me with its usual warmth.
“Hi, Dad,” I greeted, squeezing my towel-covered hair as I put the call on speaker and dropped my phone on the table.
“I was starting to think you went out and mistakenly left your phone behind, as usual,” he disclosed, humor clear in his tone.
“Dad!”
It happened only once. Perhaps I often forgot my phone’s location, but I only went out without my phone once, when I was still a teenager. My dad wouldn’t ever let it go; there was always an opportunity for him to bring it up in conversations.
His low laugh made me smile.
“How are you doing, kid? It’s been a minute.”
“Same old, Dad. Same old,” I answered. “Work’s still work. Everything is pretty okay.”
“Made new friends yet? Since Marielle is now a married woman, you’re definitely not seeing her as frequently as you used to.”
If only he knew Marielle and I hadn’t seen each other physically more than once in the past year.
“Hm, I’ve been hanging out with some colleagues at work.”
“Nice.”
“How are you and Mom, too?”
“Aside from missing you, we’re both fine.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear that, either. Since I moved out of their house for college, we’d only seen each other a few times—and those times were usually vacations. I was rarely at the house.
“You know I can’t just drive down there, Dad. I miss you and Mom, too. The year will end before you know it, and we’ll all meet again,” I assured.
“Have you and your mom come to a decision on where to go?”
“Mom’s still obsessed with Spain. You know her,” I revealed, chuckling. Then I remembered something important. “I’ll be going to the other side of town in a few days.”
“Oh, for what?”
“I got an eviction notice from the storage company last week.”
“Storage company?” he inquired.
“Yeah, the company in charge of the storage unit, the locker where I kept my parents’ things,” I explained.
