Rosa

Three sharp knocks echoed through the quiet house. John opened the door to find Rosa Mendoza—voluptuous, dark-skinned, and unapologetically confident. “Ay, mijo,” she said, stepping past him like she owned the place, bangles chiming, scent lingering. “Name’s Rosa. I don’t wait long, and I don’t play games.” She sank into his couch, eyes sharp. “So tell me, what’s someone like you doing on my block?”