The Curse Servant (The Dark Choir Book 2) by J.P. Sloan Read Free Book Online Page B

fridge, thankful for the blast of cold air on my face. I pulled her wine out and searched for the corkscrew I never seemed to put back in the same place twice. “So, what about you? Dolphins fan. You’re from Florida?”
    “Jacksonville, yeah. Undergrad at Miami, applied to University of Maryland and fast forward to tonight.”
    I started chuckling as I tried to pull the cork out of the bottle.
    “What?”
    “Sorry, it’s just… my last girlfriend was from Miami.”
    “Ah. Well, I hope you don’t hold that against me.”
    “Nah, I think you’re safe. Unless you’re a high-priced call girl who lies about getting pregnant to screw over her boyfriends.” I grabbed the corkscrew tight.
    Why did I say that out loud? Stupid. So, so stupid.
    I ventured a slow peek in her direction. She was half turned, focusing on her martini glass.
    “Sorry. I guess I’m a little bitter.”
    “No, that’s not… You’re fine.”
    I picked up the bottle to try and fish out the uncooperative cork, which only managed to break in half in the neck of the bottle. I slammed the bottle down and stepped out of the kitchen door into the side alley. It had to look so childish, but I needed a moment.
    Big, fat fucking mouth. What were the odds I could pull something out of this debacle? I took a few slow breaths and looked up at the sky just beyond the glass high-rise tower behind my house. The smell of the beans in my kitchen blended with some meat one of my neighbors was grilling down the street. I could hear a city bus squealing its brakes over on the MLK. Some kids screamed bloody murder about something unimportant a block over.
    This was my house. I had invited her here, but it was still my turf. I didn’t have to feel like a whipping boy. I had no reason to be defensive. Right. I just got careless.
    Not that any of that mattered to Ches, who was either already out the front door, or at best standing awkwardly in my kitchen wondering what kind of man-child storms out of the room because he can’t open a wine bottle.
    “Got it,” a voice drifted over my shoulder.
    I turned to find Ches holding out a goblet of pale wine for me.
    I took the glass and exhaled. “Thanks.”
    “No problem. Those corks can be tricky. It was probably a cheap cork, anyway. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever buy that wine again.”
    I smiled and took a sip. It was exquisite.
    “No, you should definitely keep buying this. Very nice.”
    We rejoined the kids in the front room, and I let Elle take a turn at abusing Ches for a while before Edgar and Wren hopped up my stoop and stormed into the front door.
    I stood to greet them, bracing for Wren’s inevitable bear hug. It came as expected, a little lower than I was prepared for perhaps.
    “Back early?” I gasped.
    Edgar bobbed his head back and forth. “They were getting slaughtered. I got bored.”
    Wren sighed, sending beer breath wafting across my face. “I didn’t want to go, but he reminded me that you were in charge of the kids, and I figured ‘Hell, they’re either bleeding to death or summoning a demon.’ So we came back.”
    I squinted at Edgar, who squinted back.
    That was when Wren finally noticed Ches.
    “Oh, holy shit. Did I just say that? Who are you?”
    I jumped between Wren and Ches, trying to back the conversation up twenty seconds. “Wren and Edgar Swain, I want you to meet Francesca… uh―”
    “Baker,” she finished, holding out her hand. “Call me Ches.”
    Edgar shook her hand as did Wren though she spent more time giving me the “atta boy” stare.
    Ches waved her wine glass at Elle and Eddie. “I’ve been chatting with your kids. They’re adorable.”
    “Now I know she’s a fake,” Wren quipped.
    I blurted, “Wine?” as I grabbed Wren by the arm. “You need wine to dilute that beer.”
    “Uh, sure.”
    I dragged Wren into the kitchen and paused by the island. She stood there rubbing her neck.
    “Dorian? You’re being weird.”
    “I need you to calm