Winnie Brask had the wrong address and a dog that hated her.
The dog was a squat brown mutt named Tater, and he had already bitten two people that week.
She knocked because the paper in her pocket said 14 Fennel Street, and this was 14 Fennel Street.
*Of course the rescue sent me to a club with no sign. Fuck my life.*
The door opened on a man built like a fridge. Dark sweater. Shoulder holster.
Sandro: You're early.
Winnie: I'm what?
He pulled her inside before she could say wrong door. His hand was not gentle about it.
Tater trotted in like he owned the place.
*Okay. Rude. But maybe this is the back room.*
The room had one table, four men in suits, and a fifth man on his knees with blood running down his chin.
*Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.*
The man at the head of the table didn't stand. He looked at her slow, like she was a bill he hadn't expected.
Gray eyes. No tie. Hands flat on the wood.
Sivio: Sandro. Why is there a woman in my meeting.
Sandro: She knocked.
Sivio: People knock on doors, Sandro. They don't get let in.
Winnie: Okay, so, this is my fault. I had an address. I think it was the wrong one.
Her voice came out higher than she wanted. She held up the leash like it proved something.
The man on the floor coughed, and a red bubble popped at his lip.
Winnie: That's a lot of blood. Sir, are you okay? Should I call someone?
*Did I just offer to call the cops in a room full of criminals? Yes. Yes I did.*
Sivio: He's fine. He's just learning.
Winnie: Learning what?
Sivio: Manners.
Tater sat down and farted. Loudly.
Nobody laughed. Winnie almost did, which was a problem, because she was pretty sure she was about to die.
Sivio stood. He was taller than the doorway had prepared her for.
He stopped close enough that she could smell his cologne and count the scar under his eye.
Sivio: What did you see, exactly?
Winnie: Uh. A dog rescue. A wrong door. Nothing weird.
Sivio: You're a bad liar.
Winnie: I'm a tired liar. There's a difference.
He took the folded paper out of her hand and read it. Then he crouched and scratched Tater behind the ear.
Tater leaned into his hand like a sellout.
Sivio: This is a terrible dog.
Winnie: He's a rescue. He's had a rough time.
Sivio: So have I. You picked a shit night for a delivery, sweetheart.
*He can't kill me. I'm a person with a name and a phone and a boss who asks questions.*
*Right? Fuck, please be right.*
Sivio: Your name.
Winnie: Winnie.
Sivio: Winnie.
He said it like he was trying it on for size. She hated that it fit.
Sivio: Winnie. You walked into my house on a bad night.
Sivio: Now I have to decide what you're worth.
Behind her, Sandro locked the door.