Cosa Nostra

Thursday

Lana Godwin didn't believe in God, even though it was part of her last name, but she started praying to God that her roommate wasn't home as she opened the door to her house and ran to the kitchen to arm herself with a knife. She didn't even see which knife she pulled out of the kitchen drawer. This was not the time to be picky. She just shoved her hand in there and pulled out whatever knife her fingers touched first.

Was she pissed at her roommate for getting her a job as a dancer at a murder club? Yes. Did she deserve to die because of it? No. Irina couldn't have known that would happen.

Besides, Lana wanted a job there. She knew the club was bad news, but she didn't think people were murdered there. Maybe next time she moves to a new city, she won't look for shady roommates on a shady site like Craigslist.

The handsome murderer appeared in her kitchen, taking her breath away and she couldn't tell if it was because of his appearance or because she was terrified. Lana noticed the briefcase in his left hand, along with the tattoos on said hand. She could tell he was covered in them, but the only ones visible were on his hands and neck.

"Don't come any closer or I will stab you." Lana threatened. If stranger danger takes one more goddamn step, she thought. Stranger danger took one more step forward. "I'm not kidding."

"This is the first time someone has threatened my life with a butter knife." Stranger danger chuckled.

Lana looked at the object in her right hand and saw that it really was a butter knife. She turned her attention back to stranger danger and waved the butter knife at him as if it was a butcher knife. "Don't mock me. And fucking take me seriously."

He chuckled once more, and Lana caught herself admiring the sound of his chuckle. "Put the knife down. You're making a fool out of yourself."

Lana was no longer scared, she was pissed. Okay, just a teeny bit scared. "Listen stranger danger, you're in my house. I pay rent here so that makes it mine. You know what that means? That means you don't get to tell me what to do, especially not in my own home."

"Stranger danger?" He asked with a grin on his face. Lana hadn't noticed he took a step forward or that he had put his briefcase down.

"That's all you heard?" She asked.

"Pretty much." He replied, taking a few more steps towards her until he reached her. He maneuvered himself around her, disarmed her, and held her captive in his arms. "It may be your house and you may be paying for it, but you do not get to threaten me in it." He whispered in her ear. "I told you I was not going to hurt you and I meant it. I give you my word--"

"Your word?" Lana scoffed, cutting him off. She attempted to free herself, but it was no use. He was too strong. "The word of a killer?"

He released her and picked up his briefcase, placing it on the breakfast bar. "How much is your silence worth?"

"Excuse me?" Lana asked defensively.

"I would never forgive myself if I killed you." He told her as he gazed into her blue eyes and ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Lana swallowed hard. "So name your price, Lana del Rey. Let's see if I can afford your silence."

Oh, I get it. He called me Lana del Rey because I called him stranger danger, Lana thought.

"And if you can't?" She was afraid to ask, but went ahead and asked anyway.