Lena sat on her sofa, which was lumpy and smelled like the previous tenant's cat. Barnaby was curled up near the radiator, making a wet snoring sound. She had a box of old photos in her lap. Most were blurry. Julian was never good with a camera. He always moved at the last second, or he'd have a cigarette hanging out of his mouth that caught the flash.
She picked up one from ten years ago. Julian was wearing a leather jacket that was too big for him. He looked happy, but his eyes were always looking past the camera, like he was checking the exits. He'd called her that night, she remembered. He was in a phone booth, and she could hear the wind whistling through the glass.
"Lena, kid, listen," he'd said. His voice was gravelly. "If I don't come back for Christmas, don't go looking. Stay at Aunt May's. Just stay put."
She'd cried. She was eighteen and stupid. She thought he was just being dramatic. "Why, Julian? What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything yet," he'd laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. "But I'm about to do something big. For us. For the house."
He never did the big thing. Or maybe he did, and it just went wrong. Either way, the house was gone, and Aunt May was gone, and now Julian was in a hole in the ground.
A knock at the door made her jump. The photo box slid off her knees, spilling pictures of a dead life across the stained carpet.
She looked at the door. It was 8:00 PM. Nobody came here.
"Who is it?" she asked. Her voice felt stuck in her throat.
"It's Adrian."
She walked over and looked through the peephole. His face was distorted by the glass, his forehead looking huge and his eyes tiny. He looked tired. He was holding a paper bag that smelled like grease.
She unlocked the three deadbolts. It was a lot of noise for one person.
"You're late," she said. She didn't know why she said it. He hadn't said he was coming.
"Late for what?" Adrian stepped inside. He had to duck a little. The ceiling in the hallway was low. He looked around the small room—the peeling wallpaper, the tiny kitchen, the cat.
"Nothing. I just... I thought you might come by."
"I brought food. There's a place on the corner. The guy said the burgers are meat. He didn't say what kind."
Adrian walked to her small table and set the bag down. He saw the photos on the floor. He stopped. He didn't pick them up. He just stared at the one of Julian in the leather jacket. His jaw moved like he was grinding his teeth.
"You okay?" Lena asked. She started kneeling to gather the pictures.
"Fine," Adrian said. He sounded like he was choking on a stone. "I just didn't expect you to keep these."
"Why wouldn't I? He's my brother."
"People usually burn things that bring trouble."
Lena stopped with a photo of Julian at a carnival in her hand. "He wasn't just trouble, Adrian. He was... he was just Julian."
Adrian sat down in one of the wooden chairs. It groaned under him. He looked too big for her life. Everything in her apartment felt like a toy compared to him. He reached into the bag and pulled out a burger wrapped in wax paper.
"Sit down, Lena. Eat. You look like you're fading away."
She sat across from him. The table was small. Their knees bumped under the wood. She pulled hers back quickly. It felt like touching a live wire.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. The burger was salty and the bread was soggy. It wasn't good, but it was something to do with her mouth so she didn't have to talk. Barnaby woke up and trotted over, sniffing Adrian's boots. Adrian didn't move. He let the cat sniff him.
"Julian used to talk about a guy," Lena said suddenly. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking at a mustard stain on her napkin. "A guy who could fix anything. He called him 'The Mechanic.' Was that you?"
Adrian stopped chewing. He looked at her. His grey eyes were flat. "Names don't matter much in that world, Lena. Everyone has a label."
"Was it you?"
"I fixed things," he said. He took a drink from a soda can. "But I couldn't fix what happened to him. No one could. Julian was moving too fast. He hit the wall before anyone could tap the brakes."
Lena felt a spark of heat in her chest. "He wasn't a criminal. Not really. He was just trying to get us out of that town."
"Everyone's trying to get out of somewhere," Adrian said. He sounded bored, but his hand was gripped so tight around the soda can that the metal was starting to bend. "That doesn't make the things you do okay."
"You're one to talk," she snapped. "You're sitting in my kitchen with a scar on your face and a gun under your jacket."
Adrian didn't blink. He just looked at her. "I never said I was a good man, Lena. I'm just a man who's still here. And Julian isn't."
The silence came back. It was heavy this time. It felt like it was pressing against the walls. Lena felt like crying, but she was too angry. She hated that he was right. She hated that Julian was gone and this stranger was sitting in his place, eating a cheap burger.
"Why are you really here, Adrian? It's not the laundry. And it's not the burgers."
Adrian leaned back. The chair screamed. He looked at the door, then back to her. "The man who put your brother away. Cassin. He's looking for something. He thinks you have it."
"The money. I told you, I don't have it."
"I believe you," Adrian said. He reached across the table. He didn't touch her hand, but he put his hand near hers. "But he doesn't. And he's not the kind of man who accepts 'no' for an answer."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"You're supposed to listen to me," Adrian said. His voice was a low growl now. "I'm going to find out what Cassin is planning. And you're going to stay in this apartment. Don't go to the lounge tonight."
"I have a shift. I need the tips."
"I'll pay your tips," he said. "Just stay inside. Lock the door. If anyone knocks and it isn't me, don't answer."
"You're scaring me," she whispered.
"Good," Adrian said. He stood up. He left half his burger on the table. "Fear keeps you sharp. Being comfortable gets you killed."
He walked to the door. He didn't say goodbye. He just stepped out into the hallway and she heard his heavy footsteps fading away down the stairs.
Lena sat there for a long time. The room felt cold now. She looked down at the photos on the floor. Julian was still smiling his gap-toothed grin. He looked so happy. He looked like he had all the time in the world.
She reached down and picked up the photo of the blue house. She held it against her chest. Barnaby jumped up into her lap and started to purr, but it didn't help.
She looked at the door. She thought about the three locks. For the first time, they didn't feel like enough.
She got up and went to the window. She saw Adrian's black car pull away from the curb. He drove fast. He didn't look back.
She closed the curtains. The fabric was thin and let in the orange glow of the streetlamps. She felt like she was in a box. A small, lumpy box with a snoring cat and a dead brother.
"What did you do, Julian?" she whispered.
She went to the kitchen and threw the rest of the burgers in the trash. She wasn't hungry anymore. She just wanted to sleep, but she knew she wouldn't. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like someone coming for her.
She sat on the floor and started putting the photos back in the box, one by one. She was careful this time. She didn't want to bend the corners. They were all she had left.
And Adrian. She had him too, she supposed. But she didn't know if that was a good thing or the worst thing that had ever happened to her.