Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

Patrick rounding the corner. He stopped dead at the edge of the hall when he saw Alvin. Patrick stared at him in shock and then looked back at her. “Are you okay, Marianne?”

“No,” she moaned. Patrick and the walking corpse in the same house at once. With a funeral dirge playing, too.

“She’s fine. I just startled her.” Alvin sounded annoyed at the disruption of his little reunion. “Just give me a minute to talk to you, Raven.” Alvin came up behind her and put his hands on her waist.

She spun around, but he didn’t release her. Alvin’s eyes were mostly covered by his too-long black hair, but Marianne glared at him the best she could. Then she looked pointedly down at his hands. “No, thank you.”

Dark Lord Alvin’s voice was whiny and caressing. “Please, Raven.”

Patrick spoke quietly from his place just outside the hall. “I think she said no thank you.”

“This is none of your business,” said Alvin, but he let her go and stepped back, anyway.

Patrick didn’t say anything. He just watched Marianne’s face carefully. She couldn’t ever remember feeling so uncomfortable. Having both of them there and staring at her was too much. “It’s okay, Patrick, I’ll talk to him. Can you just watch the baby for me?”

Patrick looked a little surprised. “Do you want us to go home?”

“No!” Marianne cleared her throat to get her volume under control. “This will only take a second. You can stay.”

Patrick nodded and almost smiled. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Alvin started in on her before Patrick was even out of sight. “Who is that? Your boyfriend?”

“No. And neither are you.”

Alvin glared at her and kicked his boot against the wall behind him. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re seeing someone else.”

“I’m not seeing someone else.”

He sighed dramatically. “Then you’ll give me another chance?”

“No.”

Alvin stared at her like she was speaking Romanian.

“No,” she repeated.

“What?” Alvin’s volume shot up four levels. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

“I shouldn’t even have to say that.” His hostility was really pissing her off. “How did you get in here?”

“Listen!”

“Sure,” said Marianne. “Right after you tell me exactly how you got into my house.”

Dark Lord Alvin stepped forward, right in her face. “Why are you being so selfish,” he hissed. “Just listen to what I came here to say. I mean, I did all this for you!”

Marianne didn’t budge. How dare this dude cheat, bust into her house, and then call her selfish? “Breaking and entering is romantic, now, is it?” she said. “You need to back up. And then you need to get out. You can’t do this kind of crap, man. Come on!”

“I’m just trying to make things up to you.” He thumped his fists against his bony chest. “I put my soul into this.”

“You put your soul into sneaking in through my window? Is that how you did it?” Marianne pointed past him, back into her room. “What if my parents had come back home with me? You gotta start thinking before you do these things.”

“I’m a spontaneous person—I follow my passions, no matter the consequences,” he said extra passionately. “I can’t change who I am to be with you!”

What? It was like they were living in different dimensions. “I don’t want you to change who you are to be with me, bro. I don’t want you here at all.”

Alvin roared like a fricking lion.

Oh, shoot. Marianne backed up the few inches that she could. His face was livid.

“What is wrong with you?” He punched the closet door a foot away from her head. “You are such a tease.”

Marianne looked straight into his face and whispered, “Get the hell out. Now.”

“Oh, so now you’re throwing me out?” He turned suddenly, kicked the playpen out of the way, and disappeared into her room.

“I never asked you in!” she shouted into the blackness.

He was banging around in there, zipping something up. The music stopped playing abruptly. “This was supposed to be special,” he growled.

“Well, it’s not, Alvin. It’s creepy.” How dare he blame this on her?

“DON’T CALL ME CREEPY!”

Marianne’s beauty school doll head came hurdling out of her room and smashed into the wall right by her shoulder. She froze in place, not knowing if she should run, or duck, or...

Patrick walked into the hallway before she could move. “Excuse me.” He slipped by her, flicked on the light to her bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Marianne just stood there in the darkness. Breathe, Marianne. Remember to breathe.

She stayed leaned back against the far wall, staring at the line of light coming from under her door. But there was no sound. No voices. No shouts. No nothing.

She stepped forward, pushed the playpen farther out of the way, and placed her ear against the door. She thought she could hear someone walking around. Maybe someone speaking softly? What the heck was going on in there, and where the hell was a juice glass when you needed one? The baby started wailing from the kitchen.

She deliberated for a moment, then ran to the kitchen to get him. When she picked up the baby, he laid his head down on her shoulder immediately. She paced the room with him a few times. Totally. Dying. Inside. What was going on in there? How was she going to explain the Dark Lord to Patrick? She heard the click of her bedroom door opening.

A second later, she saw Alvin, all limbs intact, slouch right out the open front door carrying a heavy-looking duffel bag. He didn’t even look her way. Dazed, she walked to the window and watched him cross the street to his black Vespa. Alvin secured the bag to the back, got on, and whizzed away. Easy as that.

Her mouth hanging open, she turned from the window to stare at Patrick—she knew that he would magically be there in the doorway, and he was. Patrick’s huge frame filled the casing. His hands were in his pockets and his face was totally blank. They just stared