Danger Prone

Italian Sausage

"I want to paint the living room tan," I stated and Cristiano gave me a flat look.

"Why tan? Tan is boring. Why not red? Huh? Red is inviting and cozy, tan is just boring and plain."

I rolled my eyes and set my hands on my hip. "Are you calling me 'boring and plain'?"

"Sí, I guess I am," he said with a teasing grin. I softly nudged him in the shoulder and proceeded further into the house. The kitchen was in utter despair; an awful rotten odor radiating from the fridge, and mouse poop scattered all over the floor and counters. My face twisted in disgust.

"You weren't kidding when you said this place has been empty for ten years," Cristiano said from behind me.

"It used to be a lot nicer," I admitted.

"Looks like we'll have to refurbish a lot of it, and soon, there could be rotten wood and I don't plan on falling through a floor anytime soon."

I looked down. "I only have forty dollars, I didn't think it'd be this bad..." I heard myself whisper.

"Well, it's a good thing that I grabbed a couple thousand dollars before we left."

I whipped around with a huge smile. "If you are making this up I'm going to kill you!"

He couldn't hide his grin and unbuttoned one of his coat pockets and pulled out a fan of $100 bills. "It was supposed to be for emergencies, but I think this counts as an emergency."

"You're amazing," I sighed as I wrapped my arms around his chest. He didn't reciprocate the embrace at first, but I finally felt his hand cup the back of my neck and pull me closer.

I looked up into his eyes. "We can paint the living room red."

His features lifted and two little dimples were embedded in his cheeks. "Really?"

I nodded and took my phone out to do a quick google search for a hardware store nearby. Luckily, there was Frank's Hardware just down the road.
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Cristiano had decided to stay at the house and "tidy up" as he put it, so I walked down to the hardware store by myself. Little kids and dogs were running all over the place, the strong smell of hot dogs and hamburgers hung in the air, and I literally felt like I was crashing some family reunion.

"Hey!" A little boy shouted as he nearly crashed into me. "You're Avalina, right?"

I stared back at him in fear. Didn't assassins hire little kids to take out wanted people nowadays? What if this kid was part of Zillo's plan?

"No, my name is.. Kat," I replied, trying to keep the shakiness out of my voice.

His eyebrows furrowed and he scratched his head in thought. "That's funny, I coulda sworn that you were Avalina Capellino. You sure look a lot like her."

How the hell did this kid know my birth name?

"Who are you?" I asked him.

"Pietro Capellino," he replied.

My heart nearly jumped into my lungs. I looked at him and realized that he had similar features to mine; the dark brown hair, golden skin, and almost black eyes. The only distinction was that he bore a little scar above his eyebrow. The boy's eyebrows furrowed and he shrugged his shoulders. "Well sorry about that, you look a lot like someone I know."