4–Whispers and Warnings

MARYJANE

I can't stop thinking about what happened Saturday. What was I thinking? I helped a criminal escape. And from the little we talked about, I'm pretty sure he's a big-time mob boss. I kept watching the news for information about the shooting, but nothing ever showed up.

I thought about going to the police, but I remembered how scary the stranger looked when I first laid eyes on him. I don't think he was lying when he said the county was on his payroll. So, I chose to operate under that assumption.

I lied and told my dad I didn't go to the docks. He yelled at me for not going to the inspection, but I'd rather him yell at me for that than give a crime lord stitches. The inspection would be miniscule in comparison to that.

But most of all, I can't stop thinking about the kiss he gave me, and every time I look in the mirror I'm reminded of it. He marked me. The nibble was so gentle, but it left a deep red mark, a silent signal branding me as his. I shake my head. He's never coming back; I'm not branded as his. I just got kissed by a hot stranger.

I hate that I liked it.

I curse him as I cover up the bite with more foundation. It's Monday, and I can't be walking around work like this. I shove my compact in my purse and grumble as I make my way back to my cubicle.

"Don't look so down, Maryjane." Donovan pops his head out from his cubicle, which is directly across from mine.

"I'm not down."

"I think a boy has got you down."

"There's no boy," I blurt.

"Uh huh. That's why you've been putting foundation on your neck all day." Donovan cackles.

I turn bright red. "It's not like that!"

"Uh huh. Either way, don't let men get you down. They're not worth it."

If anyone would know, it's Donovan. I hear him in Ms. Lane's office all the time, crying about his boy problems.

"...fine."

I whirl back to my computer. Stupid hot stranger. He got further than any of my previous boyfriends had. There are admittedly only two of them, but still. They never stuck around because I wasn't ready to have sex yet.

I need to push him out of my mind. I have work to do today.

My workplace, Flux Productions, recently had an acquisition. In the process most of the invoices for the acquired company got lost, and I've been in the process of locating them. It normally makes the day go by quickly, but today has passed agonizingly slowly. When five o'clock rolls around, I nearly run to the elevator.

I hate LA traffic with a passion. I can't stand being stuck in my car, burning gas, with nothing to do. So, I take the trolley to work. People watching is fun, and there's no lack of characters on public transport. There are no transfers, and the walk isn't too bad, so it works out.

I finally reach my stop and start walking to my apartment, which is in a bit of an awkward spot. It's a small complex nestled behind a ton of industrial buildings. It's the only apartment in the area, and it's extremely out of place.

The trolley stop lets me off in the industrial area, populated with warehouses and blue-collar workers. It's always very quiet, because the only people that need to get off at this stop are the workers.

I have to walk about a mile to get home. It's not bad, because I like the low whir of machinery as I pass through. It's like industrial ASMR.

I smile when I see Tony, an older man, out front of his workplace. He's some sort of security guard, but he always will talk to me as I pass by.

"Hi Tony," I say.

"Ms. Maryjane. How was your day?"

I launch into a five-minute speech about Flux's acquisition. Tony doesn't know what I'm talking about when I use accounting jargon, but he always seems to care, and that's what matters to me.

"Sounds rough," he says.

"It is. Sorry, I've been rambling. How's your day?"

Tony starts to talk about his day right as someone slams open the door to his workplace. I glance up and see none other than a hot stranger. What are the chances?

Heat rushes to my face as I remember how he looked right as he leaned in to kiss my neck. It quickly dissipates when I see the angry look on his face.

"What are you doing here?" he hisses.

"This is my way home," I say meekly.

This is bad. I was never supposed to see him again. Per our conversation in the car, we never met at the docks. Now that I have seen him, he may change his mind about keeping me alive.

"Oh really?" He walks down the stairs and brings his body uncomfortably close to mine. "What are the chances of that?"

"I swear." Tears start to prickle at the corners of my eyes. "I live in the apartment building three blocks over."

I have trouble holding his gaze because it's so intense. "So, your presence at the docks was just a coincidence?"

"Y-yes." The tears are no longer prickling and have started to fall.

He towers over me, and it terrifies me. I just want to put this all behind me. I wish one of the puzzle pieces were out of place. My presence at the docks, my apartment location, and the fact I choose to walk home.

"Hey," Tony puts his hand on the stranger's back. "Maryjane has lived here for a year. I've seen her every Monday through Friday since then."

He turns around and glares at Tony, who promptly shuts his mouth. The stranger rests his lips against my ear and whispers, "If you're lying to me, very bad things will happen."

"I know," I whisper.

"Good." He gives my earlobe a gentle nip before pulling away. "I want you to walk on the other side of the street from now on. Don't bother Tony."

"But..."

The other side of the street doesn't have a sidewalk. It's an empty, overgrown lot, and there's a chain-link fence surrounding it. I'll either have to squeeze between the parallel-parked cars and balance on the curb or walk in the street.

"Be a good girl and do what I say."

"Yes. Goodbye, then." I rub the tears that have fallen out of my eyes and run to the other side of the street.

Stranger is hot and mean. He must've been being tolerable to me on Saturday because of the severe blood loss. Now I can't talk to Tony anymore because he's such a jerk.

I hate myself that I enjoyed when he bit my earlobe.

I'm still cursing him as I approach my apartment building. There's a girl I haven't seen before who's struggling to pull a large piece of poster board from her hatchback.

"Um...do you need help?" I ask.

She turns and looks at me. "Yeah! If you have the time."

There are multiple pieces of poster board, which caused it to stick in her small hatchback. The two of us work carefully to wiggle the pieces out without denting them.

"Thank you!" she says. "My name is Rina. I just moved into unit eight."

Rina has a strong Midwestern accent, which complements the bubbly way she speaks.

"I'm Maryjane. I live in unit three." I glance at her board and see what appear to be cartoon drawings on it. "Are you an art student?"

She laughs. "Not anymore. I make storyboards for movies at Flux Productions. I need to finish this one up at home." Rina glances at the board and realizes she's showing a movie we haven't announced yet. She tries to hide what's on it but gives up because the board is too big. "I mean, shoot. Please don't tell anyone you saw!"

I laugh. "I work at Flux, too. Just in the accounting department, though. But I still won't give away company secrets."

Rina sighs in relief. "Hey! That's cool we work together. The Admin building is right next to ours; we should get lunch together sometime."

She's very outgoing, so the opposite of me. I've always been an introvert and have had trouble making friends. Rina and I have talked for two minutes, and she's ready to be my friend.

"Sure..." I say.

I help her carry her storyboards to the second floor and admire the intricacy on the way. Storyboards are normally black and white scribbles. Rina's are still black and white but have so much detail to them.

"You're very talented," I say.

"Thank you." She smiles and looks down at her boards. "I've only had one other person tell me that. Other than my boss, I mean."

"Other people are clueless, I guess."

Rina gives me her phone number. "Drop by whenever. This is my first time not having roommates, and I'm getting a little lonely."

"Definitely..." I wave goodbye and walk downstairs to my apartment.

"Hi, Slippers," I greet my cat, who meows back in response. "I wish I would have never met him. But I mean, I probably won't see him again, right?"

Slippers doesn't care. He just wants Friskies.