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

“Mmm. You’re right, it would never work,” said Marianne. “Maybe I’ll see if Nana Deathrage will let me move in with her.” Ah, Nana Deathrage. Nana because she was old, Deathrage because it was her actual last name, or so she claimed. She was the neighborhood’s resident psycho. Just last week, Marianne had had to talk a nearly topless Nana away from her rotary lawnmower and back into the house. Good times. It was fine, though. No doubt, Nana would have starved long ago if not for Danielle and Marianne.

Danielle walked over and adjusted the oven temp by fifteen degrees. “You don’t need to move out. Your parents are nice.”

“Sure, but they still bug the crap out of me.” Marianne hopped off the counter and put the processed chicken on a sheet and into the oven.

“Speaking of people who bug the crap out of you,” said Danielle as she lit another secret cigarette. “Did you stop pity dating that Goth guy yet?”

“Dumped him last night,” said Marianne. She grabbed the empty chicken bag and headed for the trashcan. “Dark Lord Alvin confessed his passionate, undead desires for my nether regions and forced my hand.”

“Good,” said Danielle. “Two weeks was long enough, even for me. And I never met the guy.”

“Picture a cross between Marilyn Manson and Screech from Saved by the Bell.”

Danielle started laughing and hacking and just about knocked the screen out of the window when she reached for support. “What’s with you, Marianne? You’re an eye-catching gal; you can get someone better than that.” Danielle told the pleasantest lies sometimes. “Wait!” said Danielle. “Did you kiss him?”

“I’m not that nice. Besides, I’m saving myself for Mickey. I think he’s going to be the man of my dreams,” Marianne hefted herself back up onto the counter. “Too bad I have to wait twelve years, though.”

“Well, if you marry into my family, you have to promise to sterilize yourself,” said Danielle. “This mutated evolutionary line needs to die out.”

Someone spoke from the kitchen doorway. “How sweet, Danielle. Are you finding me the perfect wife, already?”

Marianne tried to turn around and lost her balance on the counter, almost slipping off. She wedged her heel on the cupboard below her and got a better seat. Danielle had quickly dropped her cigarette and stomped on it and was busy waving away smoke. The two of them didn’t exactly exude smoothness. Marianne looked up when she was steady and was accosted by a guy with cigar-colored eyes staring right at her.

“Don’t hurt yourself there,” he said.

Marianne had never actually seen a sexy smirk in real life—but there it was. The guy carried a cardboard box across the kitchen and set it down on the counter beside her. He was Superman’s alter alter ego. Six-foot plus, blackish hair, sculpted shoulders, jeans, black t-shirt, and a lot of tattoos. He was out-of-control attractive.

Marianne looked away, down at her bare feet. She could almost feel the weight of all the unholy grime clinging to them.

“Hi,” he said.

Marianne could tell that he was looking at her, but she couldn’t look back. Hell, she could hardly even see anymore. The nerves had made her vision kind of hazy and tilted. She turned her head to look at his box and said, “Hi.”

“I’m Patrick, Danielle’s brother.”

Marianne looked at Danielle instead of him. “Good,” she said.

Good? What the hell was that? It hardly even made sense. Marianne pulled herself together and smiled directly at him. “Nice to meet you, Patrick.” There, that was better.

Patrick smiled back and waved. He could have been a male model—but not the untouchable, fierce-looking kind. His lovely face was... lovable. The kind of face that suited everyone’s taste. The kind of face you wanted to stare at but were afraid you’d get caught.

Marianne glanced toward Danielle. She was looking at Marianne with her mouth open, trying not to laugh. “Um...” said Marianne, feeling just a tad humiliated. “I should get out of your hair… go check on the kids.”

She hopped off the counter and walked quickly toward the door. She banked left to get around Patrick, but he moved at the same moment to let her by his other side, and she ran into him. She didn’t exactly bounce off of him, but she jerked back so quickly that she kind of stumbled. Patrick reached forward to catch her as she turned and ended up grazing her backside with his hand.

“Whoa,” said Marianne, straightening up.

Patrick steadied her by the shoulders and then released her. “Sorry.”

Marianne stepped back and flicked her hair behind her ear. “That’s okay.” She laughed. “It happens all the time.”

Patrick gave her a half-smile. “You’re kind of clumsy, huh?”

Marianne blinked. “No.”

“I just meant...” Patrick pointed vaguely toward the counter. “You almost fell before—I was just kidding.”

“Oh. Yeah, that...” Marianne shook her head, laughing again. “No. I was talking about when you grabbed my ass. I was kidding, too.” Shoot! Did she actually say that out loud? She hoped that she didn’t embarrass him.

Patrick stared at her, blank-faced. “What did you say?”

It dawned on Marianne then that he was unaware of his little trespass. “It… it,” she sputtered. “It was just an accident. You didn’t even know you did it. Obviously.” Marianne swallowed and stepped back again. “And grabbed was the wrong word... I should just go.” Marianne turned and walked out of the house as fast as she could without tripping.

She would never live this down. She was going to be Danielle’s new recurring joke.

She descended the porch steps and walked quickly across the driveway toward her own house. The eleven-month-old baby squealed when he saw Marianne walking toward him. He held up a mixing spoon and smiled, wanting her to come play with him. Marianne was about to heartlessly pass him by, when she remembered that she had supposedly gone outside to check on the kids. Disappearing would be weird. It would look like running away. Everyone would feel