STOLEN SMILE

CATERINA

"Behind every great fortune, there is a crime."
-

Lucky Luciano

†******†

I

MIGHT NOT HAVE HAD a good reason to dislike Jennifer Melgren in the beginning, but after meeting her, after she shot too close to my head, and after she put a bullet through my brother's hand, I now had substantial motive to immensely dislike her.

The whys of it all didn't matter.

Trevor had been gone all night. It wasn't until I'd gotten back from
dance practice twenty minutes ago that I learned he was going to be okay. He was given a 75 percent chance of having full function of his hand again.

Apparently, Jenny had volunteered to move into his apartment and help him out. My mamma told me this with a roll of her eyes. She really didn't like Jenny. And after hearing she'd cheated on Trevor with Jennifer, I wasn't sure what to think about her either. Granted, I would have dumped Trevor years ago if I was her, but I didn't understand sticking around if you weren't going to be faithful. It made me believe she was only around for one thing.

I sat cross-legged on the couch, watching a documentary on recent humanitarian crises, still dressed in my sweaty leggings and an off-the-shoulder top. It was one of the hottest days of the summer so far, and Bradley had left the windows down the entire drive home. He'd said the wind did great things for his hair, and so I never got to cool off. I pressed a cold water bottle to my face.

The front door opened and my papà's voice filled the foyer. A rush of awareness ran from my nape down the length of my spine. I realized Jennifer was here before I even heard her voice, deep and indifferent. A strange dance began in my stomach.

Even though I stared at the TV, I had no idea what was happening because I was hyperaware of every noise coming from the foyer.

As their steps went by the living room's double doors, a cell phone rang.

"Take it," Papà said. "I'll be in my office."

Since it was silent, I imagined a nod from Jennifer. My papa's
footsteps drifted down the hall. "Yeah?" Jennifer drawled. A couple of seconds passed before, "Motherfucker."

I tensed. It sounded like she was going to kill someone, and her steps were coming straight for me. Before I knew it, she reached over my shoulder and stole my remote.

"Hey," I protested.

She didn't respond; she only changed the channel. Breaking News flashed on the bottom half of the screen, and the blonde newscaster went over the details of a large drug bust at the border.

Jennifer stood behind me, close enough my ponytail brushed her stomach. Her hands gripped the back of the couch on either side of me as she leaned slightly over my head, her attention on the TV like I wasn't even here. It was invasive and rude.

My pulse drummed in my ears as my heart tripped up in what could only be called anticipation. My body's unwilling reaction brought a rush of annoyance in. I didn't like this woman-heart fluttering or not-and I suddenly didn't care how inappropriate it would be to talk back to her.

"Yours?" I asked smoothly. "Bummer."

A tug on my ponytail. "Watch it." Her words were low and distracted.

Warmth spilled into my chest, like I'd just gotten away with playing with fire. I wanted to do it again. Was this how people became addicts?

"There are seven other televisions in this house, Melgren."