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After using the restroom, I walked into the kitchen to see that Valerie had taken over, as she often did in the kitchen. The Deacon walked around an oval table, setting our plates and adjusting our silverware.
“Deacon Rex, what will we be drinking?” Valerie asked, looking over her shoulder.
I watched them, wondering what his first name was, and why Valerie was using his title like a caress.
Hands together in prayer, the Deacon answered, “I have water, juice, wine.”
“Nicholas, grab the juice and put it in the center of the table,” Valerie instructed. Her voice sounded maternal, and I didn’t like that.
“No wine for me?” I joked, glancing at the Deacon.
He smiled in my direction.
“No underage drinking on the hill, Nicholas. Unless you want to come by Sunday night and drink the blood of Christ.”
Valerie laughed. I did not. It wasn’t good if that was supposed to be a joke.
“I’m sure you’ll run into enough temptation at the dance tonight, though,” the Deacon continued. “Stay away from the punch bowl.”
I huffed out a breath. I didn’t really want a drink. I saw the way everyone at the ranch acted when they got drunk.
Worse.
Mean.
Horny.
I needed a smoke, though. Or whatever the hell Sorina had put under my tongue last night.
“How long until we eat?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes?” Valerie estimated, taking the lid off a pot.
“Do you care if I walk outside? The house is beautiful, Deacon …” I said, trying on my most flattering voice.
The Deacon nodded. “Ed Rex, you can call me Rex. Just go out that door right there. It leads to the backyard.
I thanked them both and slipped out, pulling a joint out of my pocket as I skipped out of the house.Rex, Rex. Red Rex. The reign of Red Rex.I rolled the Deacon’s name around in my head, making poetry of the word and the color that haunted me, as I tried to figure out why Ed Rex sounded familiar.
The lawn was immaculate, and my Converse made little sound as I walked away from the mansion. I’d tucked a lighter in my jeans. After grabbing it, I turned back to the house, nearly choking on the joint hanging out of my mouth when I saw her. It dropped to the ground, and I clenched my jaw.
Sorina was on the roof, black dress moving in the wind, her blue eyes staring at me.
She looked angry.
When she crawled down the roof, she looked inhuman and made no sound. She landed on the grass, jogging across the grass to me. I reached down, grabbing the joint just as she took my hand, pulling me to the edge of the yard. There was a small gap in the brick fence. She pulled me through, taking the lighter from me when she turned. I liked her hand on mine.
She flicked it to life and motioned for me to pull the joint up. After she lit it, she took it from me, taking a long pull before placing the joint between my lips.
It was almost intimate, and I could feel her delicate fingers on my wrist. Then she let go.
“What were you doing on the roof?” I hissed.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I was invited. Pretty sure you weren’t.”
“Invitations mean nothing. You shouldn’t be here; it isn’t safe.”
