Satan's Revenge by Celia Loren Read Free Book Online Page A

he’s been abusing today.
    “Marcus, it’s me, Violet. I’m here to take you home.”
    “Ohhhh, Violet,” he slurs, then looks me up and down. “I didn’t wanna say, but you could work here, ya know? You’ve got the body for it.”
    “Yeah, thanks,” I reply drily.
    “Don’t tell Drifter,” he adds, giving me a sloppy wink.
    “Oh, I won’t. Come on, it’s time to go.”
    “No, I want to stay!” he says, taking a handful of singles out of his pocket and throwing them onto the stage. The dancer smiles begrudgingly at him.
    “Marcus, we have to go…hey, I cooked a great meal for you,” I lie.
    “Yeah?” he asks. “What is it?”
    “Um, it’s…pork…pork chops, and applesauce, and potatoes…”
    “I could eat,” he reasons.
    “Great, well we better go before it gets cold!”
    “Alright, lemme just finish this beer.”
    I wince as he chugs the half-empty beer bottle on the table, as though he needs it. I turn to leave, but he stands and leans over the stage again.
    “Baby! Give me a kiss goodbye!” he demands, yelling at the dancer.
    “Marcus! Come on, you’re not supposed to touch them.”
    “Fine! Not even hot,” he mutters, finally making his way to the front.
    “Sorry,” I mouth to the dancer, and she shrugs resignedly at me.
    Hollywood glares at Marcus as I catch up to him and we pass through the front door. Marcus wanders out into the pelting rain and I guide him to the back seat of my car. He looks unsteady enough that it might just be best for him to lie down.
    I don’t have to suggest the idea to him. As soon as I open the door, he pitches forward and lands on the back seat. I push his legs in and close the door, then hurry over to the driver’s side. I’m thoroughly soaked as I slide the keys into the ignition.
    “You don’t know him like I do,” Marcus murmurs, almost tauntingly, as I pull out of the parking lot.
    “Are you talking about Drifter? What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap at him. I’m thoroughly fed up with Marcus at this point, and nasty little hints about Drifter are more than I can take.
    “You all think he’s so great,” he says louder, laughing a little now, “but he’s a liar. He’ll turn on you as soon as you give him a chance.”
    “That’s not true,” I say, trying to remain calm.
    “He did it to me. His own brother. Can’t trust him.”
    “Don’t talk about him like that.”
    “I could’ve had a different life!” he sputters.
    “Marcus, where’d all that money come from that you were throwing at that girl?” I ask, trying both to change the subject and to get a little information from him while he’s drunk.
    “Secret…” he says. I wait for him to elaborate, but all I hear is heavy breathing, and when I look back, he’s asleep.
    I sigh and clench the wheel a little tighter. I want to ignore what Marcus is saying, but it’s tough with Drifter not telling me his side of the story.
    We pull into the driveway, and I have never been so thankful that we have a garage. I do not want to run through this storm again. I pull in and close the door behind me. I glance into the back seat, where Marcus is still passed out. I frown at him. There’s no way I can carry him inside, so I guess I’ll just leave him in the car. I roll down the windows and turn the car off.
    I get out and open the door to the house. The dogs are waiting for me and jump up, glad to see me, but anxious because of the weather. Scout particularly doesn’t like storms, and from the ways he’s acting I think the thunder’s about to hit us, though his dog ears have probably already heard it. I leave the door to the garage about halfway open so it doesn’t get too stuffy and call the dogs into kitchen with me. I grab a couple treats from the cupboard under the sink and they follow me into the living room.
    I sit on the carpeted floor and they sit next to me, awaiting their snack. I hand one to each of them, and they take them gently in their mouths. They lie