The Lair

by Lisina Coney

“We didn’t know he was that sick. He had a tumor in his throat, and the vet said he wouldn’t live much longer anyway.”

“I wanted to say g-goodbye.” She rolled her eyes. “Dogs don’t understand human behaviors. It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Hi, everybody,” she started in that fake voice she always used whenever she wanted to invoke sympathy. “I have some sad news today.”

“Our precious boy Milo passed away today,” she told the camera. “He’d been with us for ten years, so we’re all very upset right now. You probably can’t tell, but I’ve been crying nonstop in the car on our way here, and I’ve only just forced myself to stop so I can film this for you guys.”

“It was so sudden, we couldn’t say goodbye how he deserved. Allison is very upset, as you can imagine. Allison, come here⁠—” “Stop.”

“Behave, Allison. Tell the people how you’re feeling. I have to edit this video for tonight.” “You’re not even crying,”

“Stop pretending to care when you don’t. And stop filming me. I don’t want to be on camera right now. I never do.”

“This is my job, and the very thing that pays for those expensive concert tickets you love so much. Now let me film this, or you won’t be getting any dinner tonight.”

“Allison!” she bellowed after me. “No!” I shouted back, using the dining table as a buffer between us. “You’re a liar. You don’t care that Milo died or that you couldn’t say goodbye. You weren’t even crying. And I don’t want to be in your stupid videos. Stop forcing me!”

“Your daughter won’t let me do my job,” my mother spat out. “I never consented to being part of your job,” I bit back. “Consented,” she mimicked. “Some big word that is, huh? You think you’re doing something here? You’re my daughter, and you’ll consent to whatever I say.” “That’s not how it works.” I looked at my father, knowing this was a lost cause. “You know I’m right. I shouldn’t have to be in the videos if I don’t want to.”

“Just give your mother the camera, Allison,”

decisions. “Those videos you don’t want to be part of pay for all the nice things you have, so behave.” “You heard your father. Stop being an ungrateful brat and cry for the camera.” And cry for the camera.

“I warned you,” she snarled, gripping my hair tighter. I gasped, her actions taking me back to that man. To the warehouse. “Stop! You’re hurting me.”

“You’d better stay there until the morning, or you’ll go without dinner for a whole week,” she shouted from the other side.

She had a happy and healthy upbringing, and she loved us very much. When she turned eighteen, our daughter was free to make her own decisions, and she chose to not be a part of this life anymore. Her dad, siblings, and I have nothing to do with this decision, as we have always supported her and given her love. I am distraught by the unfounded rumors that this family mistreated Allison in any way or was to blame for the terrible thing that happened to her when she was twelve.

“I brought you lunch,” I tell him with a smile, showing him the bags.

My math-geek heart leaps. “Is this what I think it is?” “Accounting?” “Do you need help?” I ask him as I place the takeout bags on an empty table. Travis walks up to me, the warmth of his body seeping into mine. “You’re into that?” “Are you really asking if I’m into numbers?” I roll my neck. “This is my jam, boss man.”

“I’ve got several certificates in finances and accounting.”

can sign an NDA or whatever you need.” He looks at me with intent. “Yeah?” “I’d be happy to help.” “Accounting is a pain in my ass,” he deadpans. “You’re good at this?”

“Free of charge, of course.” “You’re not doing all this for free.” “Just this one time. Think of it as a trial exercise. If you want me to take care of the bar’s accounting from now on, we’ll settle on a rate.” His nod is short but convinced. “Works for me.”

“You brought your lunch with you?” I don’t look up from the calculator. “Our lunch.” As if he suddenly didn’t understand the English language, he repeats, “Ours?”

“You’ll really do it?” he asks. “I don’t want to overwork you.” “You won’t be doing such a thing. I’m a math geek, so you’ll actually be doing me a favor. I’m in my element here. Most people get a headache just thinking about finances and accounting, but I love staying focused like that. It soothes me.”

“Thank you for this, boss man. It might sound silly, but I’m really excited about it.”

“There’s nothing silly about doing what you love.”

They question me about tonight’s incident, and I spot at least another four officers making rounds up and down the hallway. I knew it, yet my stomach still drops when they tell me there’s a very high chance that whoever tried to get inside my apartment tonight were the same people who targeted this building a few days ago. “I don’t understand,” I tell the officers, my voice still shaky. “I was inside. It doesn’t make sense to break in when someone is inside, does it? D-Did they want to hurt me?”

“We’ll send more patrol cars to the area and look up footage from all nearby cameras,” the female officer reassures me. “In the meantime, is there another place you could spend the night? Someone you could call? You might feel safer somewhere else for the time being.”

“Hey, Travis. Sorry to bother you. I know it’s late, but… could you come over, please? Someone just tried to break into my apartment.”

thought Travis had looked angry when his friend put his arm around me that night and said all those nasty things. I thought he had been pissed off when I messed up the stock orders, or when I hugged Charlie, or when Robert Marcelli had almost called me a bitch. Turns out I had seen nothing.

voice, “Allie, open up. It’s Travis.” As if I would mistake that voice for anyone else’s.

“Are you hurt?”

“I-I’m not. I’m fine. Nobody got in.”

“What the fuck, Allie?”

“I told you that you couldn’t live here any longer.”

“I want to move out.” He knows this. “You know I can’t find a place, Travis. Why are you angry at me?”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“Sure looks like it,”

“Do you think I want to live here? That I want to be on edge all the time, waiting for the lucky day I get robbed? Or worse?”

“Allie.” His voice sounds softer, but I’m barely listening.

“Do you think I enjoyed calling the police and hiding behind my couch, hoping that my door held up?”

“I was so scared. I didn’t k-know what to do.”

was safe and wears a friendship bracelet I made for him, is hugging me. “You’re okay,”

“You were so fucking brave, Allie. I’m proud of you.”

But I don’t overthink it when my arms wrap around his torso, hugging him back.

“Shh….” He buries his fingers in my hair. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“I’m so sorry I spoke to you like that. I shouldn’t have. I was so fucking scared for you, and I didn’t handle it well.”

“You did good, Allie.”

“Look at me.”

“Allie, look at me.”

“I’m here, and you’re safe. You’re not alone anymore.”

don’t want to stay here.” He nods. “Where do you want to go?”