Page 185 of Darling Venom
Stage one? Ambush Terrence Marchetti behind his son’s back.
Finally—finally—the door swung open.
Tate stepped out, turning to lock it. He wore a three-piece navy suit, tailored to hug every inch of him, and a giant frown I could make out from here. A clear sign he’d shared an interaction with his father.
I popped the rest of the hot dog into my mouth and glued myself to the exterior of the brownstone I stood beside. My heart ran laps inside its cage. My arms hugged the wall.
Literally.
Tate slipped into his Lexus, not even warming the engine before he sped down the street and out of sight.
My shoulders dropped. I sagged against the brick siding and waited a full ten minutes to make sure he didn’t return, baking in the sun. It had decided today would be a good day to challenge me with ninety-seven-degree weather.
“Um. Hello?”
I turned to the owner of the voice.
A kid stood there.
I peeled myself from what must have been his house and waved before darting across the street. The last thing I needed was a cop showing up to stop me from getting into Tate’s home.
Again.
His front door loomed before me. A shot of nerves struck my stomach. I’d done this nearly every day for the past couple months, but there were warning bells in my head today, courtesy of the constant tension between us lately.
Maybe I shouldn’t…
I stuck the key into the slot.
Turned the knob.
Strode into Tate’s home like I wasn’t certain I was making a huge mistake.
A symphony of voices greeted me. I followed the noise to the living room, where Terry sat in front of the television, dressed in a uniform of oversized boxers and a torn wife beater.
Charming.
He kept his attention fixed on the show. Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
The theme song kicked in. A laugh track blared from the speakers. Uncle Phil yelled at Aunt Viv. Hilary entered the McMansion with shopping bags. Ashley battered a drum set while Geoffrey slipped on earplugs.
By the time I realized Terry had no intention of acknowledging my presence, over five minutes had passed.
This is such a bad idea.
You can’t even talk to him. How are you going to edit an entire manuscript with him?
“Hi.” I cleared my throat, hovering between the kitchen and living room. “We haven’t had the opportunity to… um, talk.”
Will took a dig at Carlton.
And another.
Terry threw his head back and cackled. He lowered the volume, shaking his head. “They don’t make shows like this anymore.”
Well, actually, they do. It’s called a reboot.
But I doubted pointing that out would help my cause, so I kept my mouth shut, waiting for him to deem me worthy of his attention.
