Page 55
Story: Merciless Monster
“But I’m hungry.”
“Yes, and that’s food. Now run along and eat it.”
“But…”
“No butts, my boy. You need veggies.”
“Ahhh, Mommy!” he moans.
“Just eat the damn carrot,” I say and gently nudge him out of the kitchen.
“You said a bad word,” he says with all the childlike verve of a five-year old.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar.”
The way I feel now, I may as well put a hundred dollar note. I don't know why I’m so nervous. Dante loves me and he is crazy about Angelo. How hard can this be?
It’s my own fault for having dragged this out for so long. If I had just fessed up the morning Dante first met Angelo I wouldn’t be in this mess. It feels like my insides are fighting to get out. Ugh!
I hear the tires of the car on the gravel outside an hour later. Dinner is done. All that’s left is to pop the meat into the steak pan for a few minutes. Angelo is bathed and in bed and Splash has finally come to rest on his bed next to his master’s. It’s a go!
“Hi, babe,” I say as I hear Dante’s footsteps behind me.
I’m in the living room, nursing my third glass of chardonnay.
“Hi. It smells good in here. What have you been up to?” he says and comes over to the couch to kiss me.
“I thought I’d make my hard working man dinner,” I purr as his fingers run along my neck.
“She cooks, she contorts her body like a pretzel…tell me, Mia. Is there anything you cannot do?” he coos.
Yeah, tell the truth right off the bat.
“Would you like a whiskey?” I offer.
“I’d love one.”
“Great. I’ll organize that for you. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Wash up. I’ll get your drink for you. What’s that?”
I point to a spot on his sleeve.
“Is that blood?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I had a nose bleed earlier. Must be the heat.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’ll just change my shirt. Be back in a flash.”
“Okay.”
“Alright, Mia. Take a breath You’ll be fine,” I whisper to myself once Dante is out of the room. “You can do this. Remember. He loves you.”
I pop a few blocks of ice into a tumbler and pour some twenty-year-old whiskey over it. Dante likes his whiskey. He buys the best of everything. I appreciate a man with good taste.
“Yes, and that’s food. Now run along and eat it.”
“But…”
“No butts, my boy. You need veggies.”
“Ahhh, Mommy!” he moans.
“Just eat the damn carrot,” I say and gently nudge him out of the kitchen.
“You said a bad word,” he says with all the childlike verve of a five-year old.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar.”
The way I feel now, I may as well put a hundred dollar note. I don't know why I’m so nervous. Dante loves me and he is crazy about Angelo. How hard can this be?
It’s my own fault for having dragged this out for so long. If I had just fessed up the morning Dante first met Angelo I wouldn’t be in this mess. It feels like my insides are fighting to get out. Ugh!
I hear the tires of the car on the gravel outside an hour later. Dinner is done. All that’s left is to pop the meat into the steak pan for a few minutes. Angelo is bathed and in bed and Splash has finally come to rest on his bed next to his master’s. It’s a go!
“Hi, babe,” I say as I hear Dante’s footsteps behind me.
I’m in the living room, nursing my third glass of chardonnay.
“Hi. It smells good in here. What have you been up to?” he says and comes over to the couch to kiss me.
“I thought I’d make my hard working man dinner,” I purr as his fingers run along my neck.
“She cooks, she contorts her body like a pretzel…tell me, Mia. Is there anything you cannot do?” he coos.
Yeah, tell the truth right off the bat.
“Would you like a whiskey?” I offer.
“I’d love one.”
“Great. I’ll organize that for you. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Wash up. I’ll get your drink for you. What’s that?”
I point to a spot on his sleeve.
“Is that blood?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I had a nose bleed earlier. Must be the heat.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’ll just change my shirt. Be back in a flash.”
“Okay.”
“Alright, Mia. Take a breath You’ll be fine,” I whisper to myself once Dante is out of the room. “You can do this. Remember. He loves you.”
I pop a few blocks of ice into a tumbler and pour some twenty-year-old whiskey over it. Dante likes his whiskey. He buys the best of everything. I appreciate a man with good taste.
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