Page 13 of Ink

For real. One of those tins went for five hundred a piece. That was a week’s worth of groceries, if that. Half a week if we bought meat or chicken.

“No cost, señora. Xiomara is a great employee, and we like to give benefits like this to everyone at no cost to you.”

Jesus Christ.

This man didn’t lay on charm, but it came across that way regardless. My ma looked at me with furrowed brows.

Surely she thought I was fucking him.

Because I’d only been working for him for a damn week. Hardly enough to warrant this special treatment.

He probably felt really guilty about his fuck up. Why else would he be doing this?

But now my mamá probably thought I was a puta.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t accept this,” she stated firmly.

“All due respect, señora, I'm not asking.”

God, what a dick.

I stepped in between them before my ma could snap at him. I turned to her, grabbing her hand and lowering my voice to a whisper. “What’s the problem, mamita? Let them do this for us. Dios knows our walls need the upkeep.”

“Xiomara, we don’t accept charity.”

She’d rather suffer moldy walls and shitty lungs than accept anyone’s help. This woman’s pride… I understood. I really did.

But Ink was a massive piece of shit, and I figured I’d earned this at least. A signing bonus, so to speak.

“Come on, ma. It’s free.”

She stared at me, her disdain clear. “At what cost?”

I knew what she was implying. She really did think I was fucking him. Or at least a loose woman. She probably thought this was my one-way ticket to hell.

“Ma…”

She sighed in obvious resignation. “Fine. Let them do it. I have to get to work.”

She said her tense goodbyes and then left. Her disappointment in me was viscerally obvious. It choked through me, causing that familiar anxious sensation to rise. I glared at Ink as soon as the door closed behind her. “You realize she thinks I’m blowing you in exchange for this, right?”

The bastard didn’t even crack a smile.

The prospect, however, chortled. I finally looked at him, taking him in. He was an attractive dude, I supposed. A little young, maybe a few years older than me. His dark hair was gelled back and his cut didn’t have any fanfare except for the single wordProspecton it.

His own eyes raked over me and he bit his bottom lip, a leering appreciative gesture. His pierced brows kicked up.

“I mean, if you want to blow someone in exchange for this…”

Ink’s entire expression changed then. It darkened, a storm ready to erupt. He whirled so fast, his palm slapping against the prospect’s face and shoving him against the wall. There was a resounding crack as the guy’s head collided against cement.

“You don’t fucking talk to her,” Ink threatened. “You don’t fucking touch her. Don’t even fucking look at her, pendejo. You got that?”

The prospect’s reply was muffled against Ink’s palm. But the panic was evident in his wide eyes. Ink made a sound of disgust and shoved him away. “Get to fucking work. Your time frame just shortened thanks to that big fucking mouth.”

The prospect immediately moved, but he didn’t look at me again.

Ink did, the previous expression settling back to the unaffected bastard I’d come to know. Though there was something about the anger that had made a shiver slide down my spine and goosebumps to crawl along my arms.

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