Page 33 of Vows of Blood

We continue the rest of the walk home in silence. It only takes minutes, and I've done it countless times, but today, it feels different. I catch myself looking for anything out of place, still jumpy after the shooting despite knowing that it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Nothing like getting caught up in a mob hit to put a girl on edge. It’s Luca's fault I’m all paranoid.

“You’re making me nervous,” I hiss over my shoulder to Tony when I startle at a car horn, and he laughs, but angry as I am at his constant presence, it’s kind of reassuring, too.

Not that I’ll be admitting that to Tony. Or Luca.

My tired-looking building comes into view as we round the corner, and I quicken my pace, eager to get inside and start making calls.

Tony stretches past me and gets to the door first, holding it open, giving me the slightest tip of his head in acknowledgement when I thank him for his chivalry. He stares past me, fixed on something over my shoulder, but when I turn, there’s nothing out of the ordinary, just a parked maroon car, the driver enjoying a cigarette with the window rolled down.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but Tony just shakes his head and ushers us both inside, closing the door quietly and waiting for me to start up the stairs.

I’m already mentally listing all the restaurants close to Bellini’s that I could look for work in and deciding which ones to apply for first based on their proximity to my college library. Distracted, I'm halfway down the hallway before I notice it, the letter pinned to my door.

An eviction notice, with the words stamped in red, just in case I didn’t get the message from reading it.

Fuck.

Snatching it down, the words blur as my carefully constructed optimism crumbles to dust.

Seven days. I have seven days to vacate the premises. Stapled to the back are photocopies of my previous warnings, and the record of my payment history since the beginning of the year to really drive home what a shitty tenant I am.

Blinking back tears, I glance to the end of the hallway, where Tony is busy checking out the stairwell up to the next level. I stuff the letter into my gym bag before he can see and shove my way inside.

I was hoping he'd give me another week.

The apartment is jarringly quiet, doing nothing to ease my nerves. Vito winds between my legs with an accusatory meow that tells me his breakfast is late, and he holds me in contempt for this grave injustice. He doesn’t care that my life is falling apart, and we’re about to be living in my car. The world is supposed to revolve around him and his belly.

"I am aware that you’re hungry," I mutter, tossing my bag onto the couch. "Join the club."

I'm filling his bowl when my phone rings.

Unknown number. I stare at the screen. Maybe it’s a former employer. Maybe it’s a job I’ve applied for previously, finally reaching out. Or even more likely, maybe it’s the police looking for that statement I promised them.

A mixture of desperation and people-pleasing tendencies makes me answer, and I immediately regret it upon hearing the bossy, superior tone of my late-night intruder.

"We need to talk." Luca cuts in before I can say a word.

"I'm really not in the mood, Luca." Slamming Vito’s food down too hard, I curse as it spills out onto the floor. “And the other thing I’m not in the mood for is having someone stalking me around my gym class and morning walk like the grim fucking reaper. Some of us have lives. Boring lives, maybe, but shit we need to get done. Call him off.”

I’m aware that Luca’s fiancé is in the hospital, and he probably doesn’t quite deserve this level of vitriol for giving me a bodyguard, but turns out, being made homeless makes me a little bitchy.

"You lied to me."

That catches me off guard. Bending to put the spilled kibble back into the bowl, I answer slowly. “No, I didn’t.”

Even I wince at the defensiveness I tried but failed to keep out of my response.

“Aren’t you even going to ask me about what?”

I lean against the kitchen counter and raise my eyes to the ceiling. Shit.

“I’ve seen a video from inside the restaurant. Of your friend waving goodbye before slipping out the back door.” Luca seethes. “So don’t fucking tell me you didn’t lie.”

“I have no idea who he is. And that was a threat. He was telling me to be quiet or else. If I opened my mouth, he was going to shoot us.”

I replay the scene in my mind, the chaos, how conscious I was of Luca on top of me, protecting me, but vulnerable.