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His typically styled hair is slicked back in grease, his scarred hand lands on my doorway, and his egg noodle fingers curl around it. He leans down to me.

I don’t back up, I know better than to show a bully any weakness.

“You need to move out,” he snipes into my face. “Not enough Xanax in the world can handle you. No wonder the last guy up and disappeared.”

His breath is hot and reminiscent of spoiled milk. Wincing, I lean as far back from him as I can.

His eyes flick across me, taking in my appearance. His lips quirk. “Though, I suppose I can handle your shit luck in exchange for a date.” His caterpillar eyebrows waggle at me.

“Funny,” I grumble, acutely aware that I had managed to throw on Olive’s clubbing dress. “I was in the shower and grabbed the closest clothes. It’s not my fault the power went out.”

His blue eyes turn into an icy liquid nitrogen, and I know he’s pissed. The hand on my doorway clenches, the wood cracking under his surprising strength.

Bran has been my neighbor for the last six months. There are two apartments on the other side of the hallway too, but they keep to themselves…and apparently my luck didn’t leech out to them, not like it did Bran.

“It was only our apartments that lost power last night, just like it always is. It was only ours that had the sewage back-up. Only ours that were struck by lightning, frying all my electronics. Only ours that flooded. And from what I gathered from Miss Clementine, this bad luck started with you.” He jabs a finger at my chest. His eyes narrowing in his annoyance. “Either go on a date with me, or move out. Before I make you.”

Miss Clementine must be the woman across the hall with all the cats that meow throughout the day.

Sure, there’s a small amount of fear that comes with dealing with Bran, but to me, he is all bark and no bite. “Whose car did you borrow to follow me home again last night and make me almost wreck?” I sling back accusatorily, bouncing on my heels in annoyance.

“That wasn’t me.” He exhales through his nose, his eyes jumping towards my feet. “Stop that shit. Fuck!” He runs a hand through his hair, releasing my doorway. “I don’t know what to do with you.” He shakes his head before heading back to his apartment.

Shrugging a shoulder, I decide to not think about him again.

The emails!!

Excitement surges as I slam the door and race towards my laptop.

***

There’s only one?

Huh?

I bet the power going out messed up my emails.

At least that made sense, I wasn’t especially technologically savvy, but that’s the only reason I could think up.

I click open the only email.

One head. ASAP. Will provide all supplies.

-B.L.T.

Only one meal?

My fingers tap against my desk, thinking about how to respond. Was $50 even worth my time?

But also, I needed to start hedging away at the money I owed Aunt Sherry.

Sure! Want to meet first to discuss the details? You will need to provide both the supplies and equipment.

-Cinnamon

I don’t expect them to reply right away, but they must be at their computer.

I am surprised you wish to meet first…usually they just request details. Any items needed will be provided. Do you have a location in mind? And as I am sure you are aware the utmost discretion is necessary.