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He gives off a dismissive laugh. “Listen, I’m exhausted. I’ve been playing all night. Rooney and I had to pick up the slack from Butterfingers. The girl couldn’t play her way through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Worst player I’ve ever—OOMPH!”
I swipe my blade across his throat in a swift motion. His blood spurts everywhere as his jugular severs and his hands clap to his gaping wound in an ill-fated attempt to slow his bleeding. His mouth opens and closes, then opens and hangs that way.
Hideous and shocked with bulging eyes.
He almost resembles a goldfish.
I pocket my specially designed scalpel and stare at him as if I’m far removed from the bloody sight before me.
In the next second, he drops to the floor. He squirms and gurgles. A slow, morbid pool of blood forms around him. It’s gotten everywhere. All over his clothes and dyed onto his skin. A few specks have even splattered onto my designer loafers.
I’ll have to buy another pair.
In the meantime, as Maximillion Keys bleeds out and dies, I start on my new task for the night.
Setting the most gruesomely undetectable crime scene.
11Lyra
Love Language - SZA
The ping from my phone wakes me up. I groan as I roll over and scrabble for it off my nightstand.
Kaden has texted me good morning. Squinting at the short message on my screen, my brain’s still warming up. I won’t be fully awake for another thirty minutes. Maybe an hour.
“Fuck, Ly. Do you have to make so much noise?”
I freeze at the familiar voice. Then the weight lying beside me in my bed dawns on me.
I’m not alone. I’m lying in bed with Grady because…
…we had sex last night!
Suddenly, I’m awake. I spring up in my bed with my eyes wide and my thick braids heavy on my shoulder. Every pitiful moment from the night before flashes through my mind, playing like a movie I’m watching on the screen inside my head.
Last night was terrible.
I was put on hostess duty. Belittled by Maximillion and Erma. Treated like crap by patrons. Accosted by Grady and then stuck in the middle of a male pissing content between him and Kaden.
To top the night off, as I finally made it home, Grady was waiting for me. What else can I say but that I fell for his manipulative tactics?
It wouldn’t be the first time. Show up on my door with a seemingly innocent intent to vent, then, as time goes by and I’m comforting him, he makes a move.
For some reason, I go along with it. As always. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking about our past.
Grady knows me better than maybe anyone…
“You need to go,” I mutter, rubbing my hands over my face. “Get up and get out.”
“There you go being Dr. Jekyll, Missus Hyde again. It’s not even eight yet—”
“Go! And don’t ever tell me not to make noise in my own room again! Get the hell out, Grady.”
Kicking him out of my room feels like chasing a mouse with a broom. I have to shadow him down the hall and to the door as he complains about dressing on the move.
“Don’t do this again. Don’t show up like you did last night,” I warn. “This was the last time.”
He scoffs. “That’s what you said last time.”
