Page 17 of Married to the Devil

June: Marn, you better not bring an actual gun to my house.

June: Marn?

June: I regret texting you!

But too late, Marnie stops replying. We reach my front door and I hurry Hattie inside. She plops on the couch, sprawling, as I slam the bolt into place and stare out the front window, waiting for the men to walk past.

They never do.

Instead, five minutes later, as I’m starting dinner, the bell rings. I yelp in surprise, curse myself for being such a baby, and answer.

“Aunt Marnie’s back!” She barges past me, swooping Hattie into a massive hug. “Did you tell your mom about Mooella?”

“How do you know about Mooella?” I say, locking the door behind me again.

Marnie grins, tossing Hattie onto the couch, and comes over. She drapes an arm around my shoulders and tugs me against her—then opens her sweatshirt pouch to reveal the distinct butt of a pistol.

“What the fuck, Marn?!” I hiss at her. “You were just playing with my kid with⁠—“

Marn elbows me. “Shut it, the little one’s got ears forever. And relax, it’s only a BB gun.”

“What’s a BB gun?” Hattie asks.

Marnie gestures like, see? Then walks with me to the kitchen to help get dinner ready.

“What was the plan here, exactly?” I ask, glaring at my friend. “I know you’re in a bad place, but come on. Were you going to BB some muggers for me?”

“Damn right. A crazy bitch waving her piece around? That’ll scare ‘em off.”

“Jesus. You’re insane. That might actually work.”

She winks, opening the fridge and taking out some wine. “Now who’s relaxing with Aunt Marn?”

A few hours later, we’re laughing over the remnants of pasta, the bottle gone. Hattie’s in bed, happy to get tucked in by two of her favorite people in the world.

“Call if you see anyone strange, okay?” Marnie hugs me at the door. “I’m not far away.”

“Thanks again. I feel like an idiot.” I glance down the block as she goes down my stoop. “There was just this car last night⁠—“

“Now you’re afraid of parked vehicles?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s dumb.”

“You just gotta get one of these—“ She flashes the BB gun at me. It’s so clearly fake, I can’t believe I thought it was real. “Then you’ll feel safe.”

“Goodnight, Marnie.”

“See you tomorrow!”

I smile to myself. Yeah, she probably will. Marnie needs these nights as much as I do.

I go back inside. The house is quiet. I straighten up the living room and carry plates and glasses into the kitchen. I’m humming, happy, content, my daughter asleep, my friends still a force in my life, and a big job on the horizon.

A big, very lucrative job.

But I stop when I spot something strange.

Something that doesn’t fit.