no to the provider of these perfect veggies.
He sets a bucket on the counter and pulls a cutting board from a drawer. When I’ve cleaned my plate, he removes it and sets a mug of steaming tea, a bag of sugar, and a spoon in front of me.
“Sugar will make it taste better.”
“Does it taste bad?” I peer into the dark liquid in the mug.
“Hell yes.” He turns away. Was that a smile? Sadistic bastard.
I put in two spoonfuls of sugar, stir, and take a sip. Bad, but not too bad, considering I’ve consumed how many bottles of Pepto-Bismol in the last few days?
Chapter 6
Trey
I feel a little guilty about spiking her tea, but the relief to see her drinking it is enough to make up for the guilt. It will soothe her stomach, so there’s really no harm done. Once she has it in her bloodstream, she’ll be more agreeable to what I have to tell her.
“Is your leg better?”
“Yes. What was that you gave me?”
“An old recipe of my mother’s.”
I don’t want to go there, so I turn and start on the dishes. Knowing I have some time to kill before I can drop the news, I take my time cleaning up. I stow the ingredients from the tea and take my bucket back outside. She stays at the table, sipping away. This is too easy. I thought she’d put up more of a fight.
On my way back into the kitchen, I pause. Nothing about this situation should remind me of the second woman whose memory I avoid, but somehow, it does. Thinking about my mother is one thing. Thinking of the other woman is strictly off limits. The pain tempts me. Her face starts to come into focus.
The sound of Liv setting her mug on the table pulls me back. She stands. Her chair grates against the floor. Ah, she still irritates me to no end.
“You shouldn’t grind your teeth,” she says.
“I don’t grind my teeth.” What the fuck does she know? A resonating hum fills my ears. I need to hit something. “Did you finish it?” I open the cabinet for my scotch and take a long drink from the bottle.
“Yeah, it wasn’t so bad.” She starts to leave the room.
“Wait, do you want more?”
“No thanks.” She sways and clutches the table. “I knew it. I knew you were poisoning me.” She starts to smile then catches herself.
It’s time.
“Can you sit? We need to talk.”
“I’d rather not.” She sits anyway.
“I changed my mind. I’m going to walk over to your place and bring your car back. You need your car to drive it to work.”
“Sounds good to me.” She looks at the splattered blood on the wall. Guess I should have been more attentive with my cleanup.
“You can’t tell anyone you’re staying here. You can’t tell anyone about what happened at your house. No matter what happens. You can’t say anything about any of this.”
“Oh I can’t? I think I can.”
“No, you can’t.” I sit in the chair across from her.
She looks away. “God. What did you put in that stuff?” She blinks several times as if to clear her vision.
“Nothing. Listen. If you say anything to anybody, you’re putting yourself in more danger. We’ll sort all this out. Just give me some time. You can blab all you want after this is all over.” I look at her hard, trying to convey the magnitude of what I’m telling her.
“Blab?” She giggles. “That’s funny.”
“Promise me.”
“Okay I promise. Jeez. Can I go now?”
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened with me, or your house. Say it.”
“I promise not to tell anyone about what happened with you or my house.” She can hardly keep a straight face.
“Will you be okay until I get back? I’ll give you my number. Call me if anything out of the ordinary happens.”
“Mmm…okay.” She looks at the wall again, takes a clump of her hair, and twists it in her fingers.
“Listen. Are you listening? If you hear a doorbell, you need to hide. There’s a trap door in the closet of the bedroom. Close the closet door behind you and hide inside the compartment until I
He sets a bucket on the counter and pulls a cutting board from a drawer. When I’ve cleaned my plate, he removes it and sets a mug of steaming tea, a bag of sugar, and a spoon in front of me.
“Sugar will make it taste better.”
“Does it taste bad?” I peer into the dark liquid in the mug.
“Hell yes.” He turns away. Was that a smile? Sadistic bastard.
I put in two spoonfuls of sugar, stir, and take a sip. Bad, but not too bad, considering I’ve consumed how many bottles of Pepto-Bismol in the last few days?
Chapter 6
Trey
I feel a little guilty about spiking her tea, but the relief to see her drinking it is enough to make up for the guilt. It will soothe her stomach, so there’s really no harm done. Once she has it in her bloodstream, she’ll be more agreeable to what I have to tell her.
“Is your leg better?”
“Yes. What was that you gave me?”
“An old recipe of my mother’s.”
I don’t want to go there, so I turn and start on the dishes. Knowing I have some time to kill before I can drop the news, I take my time cleaning up. I stow the ingredients from the tea and take my bucket back outside. She stays at the table, sipping away. This is too easy. I thought she’d put up more of a fight.
On my way back into the kitchen, I pause. Nothing about this situation should remind me of the second woman whose memory I avoid, but somehow, it does. Thinking about my mother is one thing. Thinking of the other woman is strictly off limits. The pain tempts me. Her face starts to come into focus.
The sound of Liv setting her mug on the table pulls me back. She stands. Her chair grates against the floor. Ah, she still irritates me to no end.
“You shouldn’t grind your teeth,” she says.
“I don’t grind my teeth.” What the fuck does she know? A resonating hum fills my ears. I need to hit something. “Did you finish it?” I open the cabinet for my scotch and take a long drink from the bottle.
“Yeah, it wasn’t so bad.” She starts to leave the room.
“Wait, do you want more?”
“No thanks.” She sways and clutches the table. “I knew it. I knew you were poisoning me.” She starts to smile then catches herself.
It’s time.
“Can you sit? We need to talk.”
“I’d rather not.” She sits anyway.
“I changed my mind. I’m going to walk over to your place and bring your car back. You need your car to drive it to work.”
“Sounds good to me.” She looks at the splattered blood on the wall. Guess I should have been more attentive with my cleanup.
“You can’t tell anyone you’re staying here. You can’t tell anyone about what happened at your house. No matter what happens. You can’t say anything about any of this.”
“Oh I can’t? I think I can.”
“No, you can’t.” I sit in the chair across from her.
She looks away. “God. What did you put in that stuff?” She blinks several times as if to clear her vision.
“Nothing. Listen. If you say anything to anybody, you’re putting yourself in more danger. We’ll sort all this out. Just give me some time. You can blab all you want after this is all over.” I look at her hard, trying to convey the magnitude of what I’m telling her.
“Blab?” She giggles. “That’s funny.”
“Promise me.”
“Okay I promise. Jeez. Can I go now?”
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened with me, or your house. Say it.”
“I promise not to tell anyone about what happened with you or my house.” She can hardly keep a straight face.
“Will you be okay until I get back? I’ll give you my number. Call me if anything out of the ordinary happens.”
“Mmm…okay.” She looks at the wall again, takes a clump of her hair, and twists it in her fingers.
“Listen. Are you listening? If you hear a doorbell, you need to hide. There’s a trap door in the closet of the bedroom. Close the closet door behind you and hide inside the compartment until I
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