Page 177 of Darling Venom
Don’t take a fucking step toward her.
It’s none of your business.
You can’t stand her.
I took the damn step.
Then another.
And another.
Until I stood in front of Charlotte Richards, who was still cleaning my counters. Counters that, for all intents and purposes, could be an advertisement for Clorox in this state. Or whatever bullshit organic brand she had in her hand.
“Charlie.”
“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, eyes pinned on nothing. Just blank.
“Have you finished the manuscript?”
“Mmm.”
“Do you have any intention of leaving my house in the next century?”
“Century?” She yawned, blinking slowly. “Sure. Yeah. I can commit to that.”
My eyes narrowed. “I ate my foot today.”
“Sounds yummy.”
“It tasted a little too funky, but I guess that’s what ketchup is for.”
“Sriracha, too. Don’t forget Sriracha.” She wasn’t paying the faintest of attention.
“I think next time, I’ll try barbecue sauce.”
“Hmm. Let me know how it goes.”
“Or maybe your foot would taste better.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Charlie.”
“Yeah?”
“Charlie.”
“Totally.”
“Charlotte Richards!”
Her head snapped up. “Huh?”
“Unless you’ve developed a taste for cannibalism or a very peculiar variety of foot fetish, you haven’t been paying attention to a thing I’ve said.”
“Foot fetish?”
“What’s up with you?”
