Page 9 of About the Green

Why is he creeping up on me?

Didn’t I tell him to back off?

"What do you want?" I make sure to mouth clearly since he hasn’t rolled the window down or anything.

He opens the door, which forces me to step back out of the way so that he can get out of the car. He has about a foot in height over me, which I could care less about.

Everybody has kneecaps, and I'm closer to his if I wanted to take him out.

"What you doin’?” He gruffs.

"Oh now, that's a good question,” I snark, gesturing obnoxiously at my apartment building.

“Can you think of any reason why I'd be here?"

"Nope,” I pop the P. “You weren't invited, so I don't know why you're here."

He narrows his eyes on my face. “Nina, what have you been doin’?”

"What do you mean?" I blink owlishly. “I was clubbing.”

"And went clubbing in that?" he asks, looking at my sweatsuit from head to toe. It is designer and the most delish shade of pink. It could easily be street wear if I weren’t bundled as tightly as I need to.

"Yes," I say flippantly, not hearing that it's one) a lie, and two) not something I would ever wear out clubbing.

"Uh-huh," he says, equally unconvinced.

Crossing my arms over my chest, “What do you want?"

“Want to know what you did with the body.” His tone leaves no room for jokes, but I don’t have time for this. I need a hot shower and a couple scoops of ice cream.

"The what?" I act offended, my smile growing. The tip of my razor blade catching on my cheek. That little nick of pain brings back the memory of the act. "I couldn't begin to know what you're talking about."

"Well, it's a good thing I know."

I don’t allow my smile to fall, delivering the next words with cheerful inflection. “Even if that were true, which I am not saying it is, what's it matter to you? Is he a friend of yours? You seem like a fucking creep."

"No creep, just the head of security. Did you forget that?"

"Didn't forget, just didn't care,” I giggle, enjoying the tick in his jaw with my response.

“Hmm, you probably should."

He steps closer to me and I don’t back down. Instead, I crane my head back to maintain our eye contact. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm the one who caught you in the act."

Blinking twice, “What act?"

"Murder."

Tapping my chin, I insist, “I’m fairly certain you weren't in that alley."

"So you admit that you were in an alley doin’ somethin with that man."

"A man?” I laugh, long and hard. “Oh, I don't talk to men. I find that they don't have anything interesting to say. It kind of sounds more like a distant roar, you know? Like when you hold your ear up to a seashell, and like the wind rolls through, and it's, like, kind of like a low murmur. A hiss, if you will.” I nod, happy with my word choice. “Very easy to tune out."

His eyes narrow on me. "What you're doin’ could really fuck over this family. A family I swore I’d protect from ignorant playthings like you.”