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❝He took one look at her and he knew she was the perfect kind of trouble: a good girl who knew exactly when to be bad.❞
Zayn Malik. Ruthless leader of one of the largest mafia organizations within Nevada. Who also owns the most popu...
❝Damaged people are dangerous. They know how to make hell feel like home.❞ — Unknown
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🥀 E V E R L Y
As I pull up outside of the trailer park, I don't really feel much in terms of emotions, if I'm honest. A couple families are playing out in their small front yards, a few people here and there are smoking or drinking on their front lawns, and it's a nice enough evening for both.
I likely look out of place in my car—because it probably costs about as much as two of these trailers do—but I shrug it off as I get out of the vehicle, shrug my purse over my shoulder, lock the car and head for the home I'm looking for.
I knock on the front door that shakes violently as I do so and wait for someone to open it. Eventually, she comes to the door and I see Mercedes for only a second before she scoffs and slams the door shut in my face.
I knock again, glancing around at her neighbours as they go about their business. I try not to seem too out of place—because I'd rather not be remembered—as Mercedes only opens the door a tiny crack and tells me, "Go away."
"I just wanna' talk to you," I urge her.
"I have nothing to say to you," she mutters.
"I'll give you two hundred dollars cash after you just let me in and we have a chat. Otherwise, I'll make a scene on this poor excuse of a front lawn." I only say that because hers—unlike her neighbouring lawns—hasn't seen the sharp blades of a lawnmower in God knows how long and is littered with garbage and various shapes and sizes of alcohol bottles.
She debates it for a moment and then sighs, finally stepping forward to open the main door and unlock the front door for me. The moment I step inside, I fight the urge to cringe. The bottles that litter every surface, the ashtrays full of the remnants of way too many cigarettes, and the overwhelming stench of cat urine consumes my senses even though I don't see any signs of a cat.
I honestly think it's just the smell of filth since it appears that neither her nor her recently deceased ex Jordan like cleaning.
I fight the urge to react to everything I'm seeing and smelling and step inside the small space. Mercedes is immediately in defence mode, stepping away from me as far as she can to create the most amount of space possible.
"Relax," I suggest to her because I can see that she's being sketchy and rather nervous. "I'm not here to strangle you."
She still seems hesitant and she has great reason to be. It wasn't two days ago when she had her boyfriend beat me and tie me to a chair so she could slap me and attempt to lure Zayn to some sort of ambush. The ambush wasn't successful in any way for her so now she's rightfully so on edge.
