His Territory

4

I couldn't sleep the rest of the morning, my mind replaying the encounter with those late-night strangers. By dawn, I decided to distract myself and make breakfast, but a quick glance at my fridge reminded me that I had yet to go grocery shopping. So, I settled for a sad bowl of dry Fruity Pebbles. The jagged cereal scratched the roof of my mouth with every bite.

"Note to self: buy actual food," I mutter aloud, wincing as I chew.

Just as I sit down at the dining room table, the doorbell rings.

Who the hell would be at my door this early?

I ignore it at first, assuming it's a scam or some delivery gone wrong. But then it rings again, this time followed by a heavy knock.

"What the fuck?" I yell, pushing back my chair. I storm to the door, yanking it open without thinking.

Two of the guys from the car the other day stand there, stiff, hands clasped behind their backs. Their eyes are cold, watchful.

"Not interested in any Girl Scout cookies, fellas," I spit, gripping the door, ready to slam it shut.

"Watch your mouth," the shorter one snaps, placing his hand on the doorframe. "We need to talk."

"Who tagged your sidewalk?" the taller one asks, his voice sharp. "Did you see them?"

I cross my arms, glaring at them. "You think I'm gonna talk to strangers with bad attitudes? Really?"

The shorter guy lets out a breath. "Gian," he says, nodding to himself, then jerking his head toward the taller one. "And that's Los. Now, you are?"

"Lucia," I say, standing my ground.

"Alright, Lucia," Los says, his voice laced with irritation. "If you know anything about what happened outside, it'll make life a lot easier for everyone involved."

"There were three guys. Couldn't see their faces. It was early this morning." I shrug, hoping that'd satisfy them.

Both men sigh in unison, already turning to leave.

"How do I know it wasn't you?" I call out, feeling the need to push back just a little.

They stop dead in their tracks, their bodies going rigid. Gian turns his head slowly, letting his neck crack with the movement. His eyes narrow.

"That garbage ain't ours," Los growls, grinding his teeth. "Don't disrespect us like that."

I take a breath, realizing I've crossed a line. "I... I didn't know it was called a tag. Sorry."

Gian steps forward, his face softening slightly. "Look, do you have friends around here who might've done it? We need to deal with this. Don't want you caught up in something you're not involved in." His hands rest loosely in front of him, but beneath his wifebeater, I can see the outline of a pistol tucked into his shorts.

My stomach drops, and I instinctively step back into my house, my legs shaky. Why does he have a gun? What are they planning to do to me?

Gian notices my wide eyes darting to the gun and back up to his face. His expression changes immediately.

"No, no, no, mujera," he says, waving his hands in front of him. "I wouldn't shoot you. You've got nothing to worry about." He looks genuinely panicked now, his face pale.

"We don't shoot first. We shoot last," Los adds from behind him, his voice calm but firm. "A bullet in you means a bullet in us. Cristian wouldn't allow it."

Cristian? Who the hell is Cristian?

"Who's Cristian?" I ask, my voice shaky, as I struggle to understand the situation. "You guys come to my house with guns, asking questions like I'm part of some... thing, and now I'm supposed to care about this Cristian?"

"He's... important," Gian mutters, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He seems almost nervous now.

I shake my head. "I don't want to know him. I don't want to be involved. This has nothing to do with me, so keep me out of whatever this is."

Los's expression softens as he opens his mouth to respond. "Unfortunately, chulita, we can't keep you completely out of this."

Gian turns and smacks Los hard in the chest, making him grunt. "We can explain, but you need to sit down."

"No, thanks. The less I know, the better. You guys can take care of it." I step toward the door, ready to end the conversation, but Gian blocks my way, stepping into the doorway, his body just inches from mine.

"If you don't let us explain, Cristian will. And trust me, he won't be as kind with his wording." His grip tightens around my wrist, his eyes locking onto mine. "We just want to help."

I try pulling my wrist free, but his fingers only clamp down harder.

"Fine. But only one of you comes in." I glance at Gian, hoping he understands I don't want Los anywhere near my house.

"I'll wait in the car. Make it quick," Los says, backing down the pathway with slow, deliberate steps.

Gian gestures toward the interior of the house. "May I?"

I step aside, letting him in. He moves slowly into the living room, his eyes scanning the space.

"Well, this is cute," he says, chuckling as he looks around at the decor.

"What's wrong with it?" I huff, crossing my arms for what feels like the hundredth time that morning.

"Nothing," he smirks. "Just said it's cute." He plops down on the couch, making himself comfortable. "Come on, sit. Let's get this over with—I've got other things to handle today."

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mujera- woman

chulita- girl