Blood Veil

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Blood Veil Page 24

by Megan Erickson


  “Listen, mi’jo. I’ve got an idea. Clean this place up and I’ll charge you two hundred for the first two months’ rent.”

  “Clean it up?”

  “Yeah. Clean it up.” She smiles. “Sort out the boxes and see what’s inside. We’ll figure out what we can sell and what we can give away. This place has been neglected for a long time—too long. It’s time to discover what kind of treasures are hiding in here.” She pauses. “Might be junk. Might be worth a million dollars. Who knows unless we look, right? Plus, two months for two hundred dollars? Who else is going to charge you rent like that?”

  A month of free rent—an extra two hundred dollars to put toward a real apartment. Plus privacy. It’s no palace, but when I look closer, it’s not bad. A little sweeping. A little soap and water. A little time. I could live with this.

  “Okay. Deal.” I hold out my hand. Chinita shakes it. I reach into my backpack for my wallet and count out ten twenties. After that, I’ve got two fives for the next three days until I get paid again. I hold back a sigh as I hand over the bills. Maybe Ben hid a cheeseburger somewhere in here for me.

  “Excellent.” Chinita stands up and tucks the money into the back pocket of her jeans. “See? I knew we could work something out.”

  I put my backpack down. While Chinita goes into the house to get some bedsheets, I pick the thin mattress off the rickety frame. I take it into the backyard and shake the dust out of it. I look at it in the sunlight and realize that the dust is just that—dust. No bedbugs. No fleas. No critters.

  Chinita comes out of the house and hands me a pillow and a set of pink sheets. They’re covered with fairies. I look at her with my eyebrows raised. “Really?”

  “Suck it up. These are the only twin sheets we have.”

  They belong to Vanessa’s daughter. I take the sheets and make the bed. By the time I tuck the old flat pillow into the pillowcase, I can barely keep my eyes open. I settle down on the bed to take off my shoes and the springs whine under my weight.

  Chinita taps my forehead with her finger. “One more thing. Ground rules. No drugs. No guns. No shenanigans. None of your troublemaking friends or girls from the neighborhood in here, okay? I got a great-grandbaby, and she doesn’t need to see none of that garbage. Understood?”

  I nod and lie down. “Understood.”

  “I need your word, Salvador Rosas.”

  “I promise, señora.”

  “Okay. As long as we’re clear.” Chinita turns off the lights and drags the crumbling door shut. My eyes are already closed when I hear her say, “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

  * * *

  —

  When the alarm on my phone goes off, I take a second to get my bearings. It’s warm in the garage, and the air is still. It smells like old wood, grease, and gasoline. There’s a dusty shaft of sunlight that starts at the window and lands on the back wall. Black paper peels away from the wood. I look up. The bare rafters are coated with fine dust, like ash from a volcano.

  I turn off my alarm and sit up. It’s six o’clock.

  Now there’s one thought in my head—food.

  Feeling like a bear getting ready to leave its cave, I get dressed for the night. Jeans, a T-shirt, my one pair of sneakers. I find the keys that Chinita gave me for the house. I need to clean up a little before dinner and the bus ride to work.

  I put my hand on the doorknob, but the door is stuck. I bash my shoulder against the wood just like I saw Chinita do it. The door gives way on my first try and I explode out of the garage.

  Before I can do anything else, a woman is screaming at me and a blast of cold water hits my face. It doesn’t let up. I try to cover my head with my hands but the water moves downward, soaking my clothes. It’s ice cold.

  “Hold up,” I blubber. “Stop, stop!”

  At last, the water turns off. “What the hell?” I say. There’s water up my nose. I’m coughing. I take off my soaked shirt.

  When I stop drowning, I look up to see Chinita’s granddaughter standing next to the rosebushes. She’s wearing an office skirt and blouse. Her dark hair is pulled back tight. I see pearls and pretty red lipstick. Her mouth is wide open. Instead of high heels, she’s wearing old Converse tennis shoes with the backs smashed down. She’s little but curvy in all the right places and I can’t help it. I rub the water from my eyes and stare.

  Goddamn.

  She’s fine.

  Almost fine enough to make me forget that she just tried to put me out like a fire.

  “Ghost?” A confused look crosses her face as she grips the hose. “You scared me. What the hell are you doing in my garage?”

  I wipe my face with my T-shirt. I try to come up with something cool to say and fail. “Hey, Vanessa.”

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