𝙄𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚

Money Talks

Natille's POV •

After my conversation with Xiomara, I don't know how to feel anymore. She felt like something unreal that I was talking to. And it didn't help that her performance earlier tonight kept replaying in my head every time she moved and the towel she wore showed more of her thighs.

I felt dirty and weird. In my book, Xiomara was in a limbo between a friend and someone I could coexist with peacefully. She was like something untouchable. Like me wanting to fuck an animal, or a baby. I went back out to the Uber I had waiting. The lady cast me an annoyed look but let me back inside. Now in the silence of the car, the weight of Liv's phone in my hand doesn't feel as heavy as the lies she's told me.

Every time I mentioned Liviya's name a certain chord seemed to strike within Xiomara, but I didn't want to push her too far. Obviously something more had to have happened between them, but I won't ask what. But the way Liv hurt Xiomara and told me she hurt Regina hurts the worse. How dare she look me in the eyes and tell me that!

I blink back hot tears and try to soothe my anger with calming thoughts. Regina's the one who has a tape she could use against me, not Xiomara. I scoffed. It's crazy how I judged Xiomara about her porn page before and now I have my own little tape.

We pull up to Liviya's a little while later and I shake my head, trying to keep an expression of distrust off of my face. If Liv had known that her phone was at Xiomara's I'm sure she wouldn't have sent me or she would have known for sure I'd find out the truth.

But why even lie about it? Why?

I knocked on the door and waited for Liviya to come to it. "Hey." She glanced down at my hands and smiled brightly. "Thank goodness." She opened the door wider and I was able to see two officer's in the living room. Now I noticed the slightly glassy but false look in her eyes. This bitch wants me to cover for her, huh?

"Hi," I say to the cops awkwardly.

I hand Liviya her phone and sit down on the couch as the female cop gestures me over.

"We just want to ask you a few questions," she says to me. I glance at Liviya but she's staring down at her lap. "Were you with Liviya Bleu when her car caught fire tonight?"

"Yes," I answer, then glance at Liviya again. Is that what she wants me to say? How am I supposed to know what to do? "Paul, why don't you take Liviya for a walk?" the woman asks the other cop. He takes Liviya outside and I gulp. They must have made her leave because it was obvious I was waiting for some sort of direction from Liv.

"Did you know that car was stolen, Nat?"

"Nat," I repeat slowly.

"Liviya told me you liked to be called that," the female cop says, putting down her note pad and offering me a smile.

"Yeah sure," I shrug. I fumble with my hands. "I mean, not to the car being stolen," I quickly say, "to that being my nickname," I chuckle.

"Alright. I believe you," the cop says.

I feel an odd sense of relief and confusion. Is that all she wanted to ask? Will she let me off of the hook that easily? "You won't get in trouble if you tell me the truth, Natille," she then says, standing up. She goes to look around the apartment. "This place is nice. I wonder how Liviya affords it with no job."

I frown.

"In all honesty, I never considered that she didn't have a job," I say after awhile. I look down at the floor. "Don't tell me she's doing illegal shit. Is she going to prison?"

"I don't know. You tell me, Natille." The cop produces a bag of pills. "I found these in the couch."

"They're not mine," I frown.

"No but they're Liviya's," the cop says.

No, not my friend. Please don't tell me she was doing that. "Please, tell me Liv isn't," I shake my head.

"I can make this go away if you tell me-

"I knew it was stolen and I was telling her to give it back to the junk yard. I knew it wasn't right and," I shake my head, "we only took her car to go get her phone."

I feel overwhelmed and afraid.

"I only needed to know that much."

"What will you do with the pills?" I ask.

"I'll discard of them. Theft is a lesser charge than this would be. Consider it a favor," she said.

"What do you want in payment?" I ask her, following the cop to the door. "My daughter likes to do ballet. I hear your father's a pretty big CEO of a recognized company, Ms. Burner."

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