Chapter 2: Little Dancer

Brad should have known that Lina would have lived in the perfect slice of suburbia. The front lawns were perfectly mowed –hedges trimmed neatly and flowers in full, obnoxious bloom. As he parked his car in front, he took a minute to digest the two stories of dove gray paneled house, with black shutters and large shrubs of colorful flowers decorating the front of the house. The red of the front door stuck out like a sore thumb, but in a nice way. Artistically, Brad admitted the house was impressive, and appreciated the architecture, but decided it was best to keep it to himself.

Clearing his throat, Brad exited his car, and headed for the front door, waving back tentatively as the person who lived next door to Lina called over a 'hello!' to him. It had been a while since he was in the social graces of suburbanites, and interacting with them was a little awkward, and made him feel cheesy.

When Lina opened the door, she ushered him inside, while speaking on the phone in a language that Brad didn't understand. Spanish? No, he knew a little bit of Spanish, and whatever Lina was speaking wasn't it. Whatever it was, it was fluid and second-nature to Lina –Brad quirked the side of his mouth upwards and shoved his hands into his pockets, taking a look around, as Lina disappeared to the back of the house.

Lina's house was impeccably decorated, like something he would see in a magazine. Sure it was nice to look at, but there was something distant about the house. Like the house was lonely and cold, with a blanket of mahogany flooring and custom furnishings to try and warm it up.

There were only a couple family photographs on the fireplace mantle. One of Lina as a little girl –she was maybe four in the photo, in pigtails and bright pink rain boots, paired with denim overalls (Barbie's shoved into the pockets), a tiara and a tutu –she was holding a tiny gray ball of fur, a kitten. Then a photo of Lina, and who Brad assumed was her parents –Lina looked about nine and was missing her two bottom teeth.

A loud "Mow!" interrupted Brad's thinking, as he felt something push up against his leg –he looked down to find a rather fat, fluffy gray cat looking up at him with disdainful green eyes. "Oh, hello." Brad tried to sound friendly as he leaned down to pet the cat, only to be met with an ungrateful hiss and the grumpy little cat bastard scurrying away. Brad furrowed his brows together and frowned, "Fine ... be that way, fucker." He mumbled.

"Ignore him, he's old and cranky." Lina's voice reached him before she did. She emerged from the back of the house with navy blue baggy sweatpants, and a fitted plain tank top, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She looked ... cute, Brad thought was an appropriate word, grinning at her hair being knotted at the top of her head, her reading glasses perched on her slender nose.

"I wasn't expecting you early." Lina added, crossing her arms in front of her chest, one of her arched brows raised, "I thought for sure you'd get lost or bail."

Brad paused, frowning "Thank ... you?" was his response, not sure how to interpret that. "So, are you finished with your illegal overseas weapons trading?" he teased, following Lina out of the house.

Lina actually chuckled "My mother is French." She said simply. "It's easier to talk to her in French because sometimes she trips over some English words. And she talks forever." Her voice faltered just subtly enough so it was barely noticeable, when she spoke about her mother, Brad noticed.

Brad nodded, "Moms can be that way." He said softly and motioned towards his car, "You can throw your stuff in the backseat."

As Lina gave Brad directions, she quickly learned that she thoroughly did not enjoy being a passenger in his car. Brad listened to his heavy, chaotic music way too loud for Lina's liking, so naturally they fought over that, along with Brad's led foot scaring the bejeezus out of her. She found herself tense, checking her seatbelt to make sure it was secure, and watching, which slight horror, her surroundings whiz by in a blur. Lina was convinced that Brad was indeed, trying to kill her.

"There!" Lina pointed out, quickly, afraid they were going to miss the turn.

Brad swiftly pulled into the parking lot of an old, three story brick building. Vines crept up the bottom of the structure, all the way to the edge of a slightly weathered sign that read "Miss Rosie's Jazz". He drew his brows together, turning the ignition off and looked to Lina, who scrambled out of his car, slamming the door.

"Are you kidding me?" Lina demanded, grabbing her duffle bag from the back seat. "You should not have a driver's license, Foster. Not at all!"

Brad scoffed at Lina, rolling his eyes, "Stop acting crazy, please ... you got here in one piece, right?" he grabbed his camera case, out of habit and locked up his car.

Lina raised both her brows and pursed her lips together tightly, at the word 'crazy'. "You're an asshole." She ground out, stomping towards the brick building.

Brad glared at the back of her head and followed, "Yes, you've mentioned that." He responded lowly.