Masterson

ELIZABETH

TODAY IS TURNING INTO A full blown crash course in Roman 101. I've learned that five minutes in Roman's world, really means exactly that. It was five minutes on the dot when Owen handed over my security deposit in cash and the key to the storage garage. I was shocked that he even had that much money on hand. Who does that? Oh wait ... I used to (baha!). Anyway, after he handed over the cash and the key, he went inside his apartment without another word and locked the door.

After Roman and I loaded my four plastic containers of treasures (photos, journals, sweaters and other trinkets) in the back of his Rover, we decide to stop for lunch. I suggest that we eat at Brown's Diner. One of Philadelphia's legendary last remaining family-owned diners and one of my favorite places on earth.

"You've eaten here before I take it?" he asks noticing my excitement.

"All the time. Best five dollar lunch in the area."

"What the hell can you get for five dollars?"

"Don't be such a snob, rich boy. You're about to have the best turkey burger and fries EVER." I smile. "My treat. Since I'm rich now too."

I fan a little of my money in his face when I notice an incoming text on my phone.

Roman chuckles and pauses before he asks his next question. "Who's that moneybags?"

"It's Owen."

Roman's face turns icy.

"What the fuck does he want?"

"For me and my crazy ass cousin to never come around there again or he'll call the police."

"Is that right."

I laugh. "Well you've got to admit. You were kind of over the top with him."

"I was fixing a very fucked up situation. He was trying to keep your money and you were allowing him to speak to you like a piece of shit."

I gasp in mock shock. "Tell me how you really feel."

"I really feel like you have horrible taste in landlords and definitely in men."

"I guess so. My last boyfriend was apparently a druggie, and I think I came pretty damn close to making out with my cousin in front of our entire family." I chortle a little at my attempt at a joke.

Roman is stock still.

I'm guessing he doesn't think my joke was that funny.

"So what else is on the agenda for today?" I ask hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

"I need to make a stop, then we're going home to change, and then out to The Lotus."

"The Lotus? Why would we go there?"

"I'm running it now."

"You're running it! I thought you were a business consultant."

"I am. I consult employees on how to run their clubs among other things."

I shake my head no. "I don't want to go back to that nightmare on Elm Street."

"Nothing will happen to you as long as I'm there." He says confidently.

"And who pays you to run this club? No offense, but it doesn't look like your type of crowd."

"No offense taken, but it's not your crowd either, and the owner pays me."

I roll my eyes at his inferred insult.

"And who's the owner?"

"A silent investor. Any more questions about my business, Inspector Clouseau?"