Page 18 of Seven Graves

He’s unpacking a lot. And he never actually told me what would happen if I say no.

“Well, after the little shit you pulled at the manor, I decided to go off the grid. I don’t ask questions, Malek.

It’s better if I don’t know. I do these jobs and whatever stories are attached to them get buried with the bodies.

I know way too much because of you . Forgive me if I don’t feel good about this.

As bad as I wanna tell you that you didn’t rattle me…

you did. I took my ad off the Dark Web.”

Malek hung his head. “I know you did.”

“What happens if I don’t do this job?”

He bent over, picking a penny up off the dock and smiling down at it. It’s on heads. I forget which one is supposed to be lucky. If his damn dimple has anything to say about it, then I guess it answers my question. He flicked it into the air and in my direction. I caught it in my hands.

“Just think about it. Somethin’ tells me you’ll say yes.” He winked and left me standing at the end of the dock while he started walking away, hands back in his pockets. Damn, he wears a pair of jeans well.

“Malek.” He stopped and turned his chin over his shoulder. “What does it mean? That shit you always call me?” Cue, the dimple.

“ Nathair Bheag? It means Little Viper .”

My coffin is my happy place.

You heard me right.

Most people have a cute little book nook in their apartment or a home library, or…

just a place they like to go and exist? Mine is the custom-made coffin with the detachable lid.

It’s not a casket. And I will be buried in it one day, or I’m coming back as a poltergeist. It’s matte black with relief carvings, and a really fluffy, deep green interior with a matching pillow.

I also have throw pillows in here that I like to snuggle up with when I read, and yes…

it’s made for me to just get in here and chill.

I can comfortably sit cross-legged or stretch my legs out and lean against the mound of pillows since I’ve strategically placed it against the wall in my living room area.

The lid is mounted for decor. Gives it a really wicked vibe.

That’s where I’m currently at, trying not to stew over everything Malek said today and distract myself with smut I wish I’d read before I called Kit over here.

I could’ve pulled something buzzy and glorious out of my naughty drawer and taken care of myself in less than a minute.

Probly woulda been the best sleep too. I feel robbed.

My thoughts must have summoned the orgasm gods. I felt , before I heard my phone buzzing in my lap.

Asshat: Thinking about it?

Okay, so my mind didn’t immediately go to his obvious question. Don’t judge me.

Me: About separating your nuts from your body and using them as stress balls? Absolutely.

I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone to the side, reaching for my little bag of chocolate almonds and returning to where the FMC was getting thoroughly railed, bent over a headstone in a cemetery. This is my kinda story. Why did I wait so long? My phone pinged again, and I ignored it. Twice.

Then it started ringing.

He’s never gonna leave me alone. I might not ever get myself off in peace. Like, ever again.

“What.”

“You can’t talk dirty to me and then ignore my messages. Rude.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You started it.”

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

He gasped sharply and I’d be lying if I said my mouth didn’t turn up in the corner…just a smidge. “Busy? Doin’ what?”

“About seven inches. Decent girth.” I just described my favorite toy. But he doesn’t need to know that. Let him stew.

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“Try it again, and you won’t be as lucky as you were last night. Now seriously, what do you want?”

“Honestly? Another milkshake. I hear it brings all the boys to the yard. These boys, I’d actually like to bury in it. So…you thinkin’ about it?”

I chuckled through my nose, but thought better about it. Think it might have been too late to hide, though. “If I say yes, will you go to bed and leave me alone?”

“Only if you promise to think of me while you’re using your Girthmaster.”

…No fucking way…has he been in here?!

“I beg your finest pardon? Have you been in this fucking house?”

Malek giggled, and it made my stomach flutter while my head furiously darted around the apartment. “No, not yet. But I’ll sleep like a baby with that win. I didn’t think you’d crack that easy.”

“I faithfully hate you.”

“Send me a picture. I promise I won’t blackmail you with it.”

“Bet.” I flipped the phone, sticking up my middle finger and snapped one, sending it off. “There. Can I go to bed now?”

“Hold on…” I heard shuffling and a muffled whine. “Well, now I’m just sad.”

“Good. I’ll sleep on it. If you can practice some patience like a good boy, maybe you’ll have an answer tomorrow after I get off work.”

“Are you sitting in a fuckin’ coffin?”

“Yes, and if you don’t wanna find out how well you’d fit in it, then I’d hang up the phone. I do have places to bury things that aren’t as predictable as a backyard.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Bye.”

Call ended.

My smirk was annoyingly persistent. I read the same two sentences in my book twice.

I ended up giving up on it and just going to bed.

He didn’t call back or text anymore, and I shuddered to think of what he was doing with that picture.

I laid on my side and stared off into the dark for a few minutes and then, out of nowhere, I started laughing.

It started light, but I guess I’m just tired enough that it escalated and I couldn’t stop.

“Girthmaster…”

I snorted…loud, and broke into truly hideous giggles.

I hate this man. I hate this man. I hate this man.

“Why do we have to go here? I don’t even like it anymore.”

I peeked in my rear-view, glancing at a very grumpy Emmy, who clearly wasn’t having any of my shit today.

Greg wasn’t buying my shit, either…I was singing when he came downstairs to make sure I hadn’t lost my mind.

I dodged every possible conversation he was trying to start about where I was the remainder of the afternoon yesterday, and I think he just assumed that I’d found a new flavor that didn’t actually make me wanna lay in traffic.

He’s not entirely wrong if that’s his assumption, I’m just too much of an ass to admit it…

even to myself. And I know Greg said that he and Maggie wanted to give this another week before they let Em decide what she wants to do, but…

fuck that. Nobody’s screwing with my girl. I’m pulling my auntie card.

“We’re going because I slept really good last night, woke refreshed, I’m in a good mood, and it seems like a swell day to learn how to get my foot high enough to fit up somebody’s ass. You’re also a terrible liar, kiddo.” She just stared at me like I was five shades of insane.

“Bruh…”

My mouth dropped open and I lowered my sunglasses, looking back in the mirror. “Emmaline Grey…did you just call me, bruh? ”

“…Um…yeah?”

I pointed at her reflection. “Rule number one? Greys don’t stoop. It’s beneath you. You’re five years old, where’d you even learn that garbage?”

“YouTube.”

“Good lord. Okay. Rule number two? If it’s not a true crime documentary, or Bob’s Burgers ? We don’t watch it. We also need to teach you how to read so I can send you home with the good stuff.”

“Daddy says your books are dirty. Do you not wash your house?”

I’m gonna kill him.

“Tell Daddy my house is cleaner than the back of his underpants.” Emmy giggled and covered her mouth.

Did I mention how much I love her laugh?

If I ever talk myself into the idea of punching out a little parasite…

it’ll be her fault. Don’t get me wrong, Vivian is just as much my everything, but Em was my first little gremlin in a blankie and we’re best buddies.

No sooner did we pull into this parking lot, her laughter went as dead as Mr. Danforth, who I did an excellent job on today, and the look on her face was about as defeated as it gets.

Somebody’s getting their ass chewed today.

Be that a group of elementary-age little girls, or all sixteen of their mothers.

Or fathers, I honestly have no qualms with either of them walking into Sunday service this fine weekend and actually having a reason to pray to God.

I parked and shut my car off, turning in my seat to make sure she’s understanding me.

“Em…does your shit stink?”

“What?!”

“Your poo. Does it stink?”

She looked around like anybody could possibly hear us, and grinned, covering her mouth again. “Yeah? Don’t your poos stink?”

“Nope. My poo smells like jelly beans. And so does yours. You got it?”

“…No. No, I don’t.”

I dropped my forehead to the corner of my driver’s seat and snorted.

“Okay. Lemme tell you how this is gonna go.” I popped my head back up.

“You’re gonna go in there and pretend your poo smells like jelly beans.

You’re gonna walk with that chin raised up, you’re gonna do your wet spaghetti thing, show these little bitches how it’s done, and act like you don’t give a crap what they think…

even if you do. You’re not here for them, Emmaline.

You’re here for you . I want you to pretend they don’t exist and show me what you got. Can you do that for me?”

I swore I saw tears well up in those blue eyes. It made me wanna get stabby. But she nodded and I nodded back, helping her out of her car seat buckles before we went inside. Her gymnastics instructor met me at the door to their training room.

“Hey, little stranger. You feelin’ better?” Em nodded. “We haven’t met. I’m Jenn.” Jenn …reached a hand out to shake mine, and I obliged.

“Seven. I’m the aunt.”