He's The Boss

6

I'm greeted that weekend by my first warning letter. I'm late for rent. I wonder how long it will be before the landlord comes looking for me. It's about hiding out for as long as I can now while I wait for money to come in.

Food-wise, I'm not doing too great either. There's not a lot left in the kitchen, and I'm doing my best to make it last as long as possible. Maybe this way, I'll finally lose some weight. Always a silver lining, right?

On Sunday night, I get a knock on the door. I'm thinking it's probably one of the neighbors, and open it without thinking.

Big mistake.

I haven't even fully turned the knob before three burly, well-dressed men push their way in.

"Caitlin Ross," one of them pipes up, coming over and draping an arm around my shoulders.

"What the - ?! Who the hell are you guys! What are you doing – ??"

"Relax. My name's Rocco. We're friends of Sam."

"Sam??"

"Yeah. Is he here?"

"N-no?"

He pauses, cocking his head at the other two. They stomp through the apartment, checking every room with their hard, beady eyes.

A line of cold sweat begins to form on the back of my neck.

"Nothing," one of the lackeys informs Rocco. "It looks like he's been gone a while."

"Is that true, Caitlin?"

"I don't know who you are but – "

"Just answer the question," he interrupts, tightening his arm around the back of my neck. He pulls me so close, his breath is hot against my cheek.

"He's not here. He took all his stuff, and mine, and disappeared. I haven't seen him for days."

"Really? That's a shame."

"How do you know him?"

"Oh, that's not important. What's important is he owes us."

"Yeah, well, get in line."

"Do you have any idea where he could have gone? He must have left you a goodbye note or something."

"He didn't."

"Where's your phone?"

"I'm not giving you my phone. Hey!" I exclaim as he grabs my purse. I move to wrench it back from him, but one of Rocco's lackeys holds me back by the shoulder.

Rocco empties the contents of my purse onto the dining table. "Why do women always have so much garbage in their purse?"

"And why do scum like you always wear too much styling gel?"

He gives me a heavy-lidded stare, unamused, before going through my things. "Phone," he murmurs, pressing the Home button. "Care to unlock this for me?"

I hesitate for a moment before reluctantly keying in the passcode. We wait silently as he scrolls through my call logs and texts – everything.

"Looks like you were telling the truth. He even bailed on you. That's sad."

"Fuck you," I mutter under my breath.

He stares at me, a smile spreading across his face. I hear a short intake of breath – realizing only later that it was my own – before pain hits me like a brick.

"Thanks for your help, Caitlin. We'll keep looking for your boyfriend, but in the meantime, if he does turn up, you be sure to tell me about it." He holds up my phone. "I just saved my number for you."