“What did you just call me?” I said accusingly.
He shook his head, shoulders lifting. “It’s nothing. No translation.”
My ass. “You know what Serj called me this afternoon? Your girl.Yours.”
“Hey,” he said, holding up his hands in front of his chest, as if I were physically attacking him. “I don’t know why Serj said that, but I’m sure he meant that you are part of this household.”
“That’s not what it sounded like he meant.”
“Jane—”
“I’m not yours,” I told him. “Leo is my father. I don’t know what you did with my mother, but I’m not yours.”
“You’re my responsibility as long as you live under this roof. So you are partly mine.”
What did that even mean?
“You grew up in my house, with my kids. I am fond of you. That is all,” he said, suddenly very stoic. “And I’m sure that is all Serj meant.”
I didn’t believe him. But now he was withdrawing, back to his old kingly self.
Putting up a wall. Master and servant.
“As an employee in your staff who is partly yours, I’m not asking for any favors from you,” I said, handing him the hydrocortisone cream as I mentally armored myself. “To be clear. I care what happens to Eddie, but that has nothing to do with you.”
He squinted at me, confused. “All right? I just thought—”
“May I be excused… sir?”
Mad Dog hung his head and muttered dramatically, “You must not kneel to me. I don’t deserve it.” It sounded as though he were reading lines from a play.
“Sir?”
“Nothing. Thanks,” he said, tapping the tube of cream on his palm as he left the kitchen.
When his silhouette disappeared through the doorway, I sagged in relief. I regretted some things I’d said… and some things I hadn’t.
This house didn’t feel like a home anymore. Maybe it never really did for me. All I knew was that I didn’t want to feel this way around him from now on—dreading to speak to him. I had to get out of this house, away from him.
Tonight.
Jane Marlow:
I’m going out tonight
I’ve got Frida
Where are you?
Velvet Larsen:
Love youuuuu
Aaar krj
Oops what lol that was Erika
Jane Marlow:
