Lady of Forsyth by Angel Lawson & Samantha Rue

Author:Angel Lawson & Samantha Rue [Lawson, Angel & Rue, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

5

April

Dimitri

* * *

Glaring, I ask, “Remind me why I agreed to this again?”

I’m standing outside a room full of small, obnoxious demons. I can see them through the window, running wild, their voices loud and shrill, and still barely audible over the disharmonious shrieks of the recorders they’re all holding.

I bet they smell bad, too. Kids always do.

Fuck every square inch of my dick.

“It’s your turn to spend a day with the kids,” Story says. “Killian already had three football scrimmages with them, and Tristian comes weekly to tutor them with the laptops his dad donated.” She pokes me in the side. “You’re up.”

“These kids don’t give a shit about classical music.” I go to cross my arms, but think better of it. I’ll never live it down if I sulk. “And even if they did, having it played on those devil sticks might actually be a crime against humanity.”

Story rolls her eyes. “Then teach them something else. You’re not all Chopin and Beethoven, or whatever.” Her eyes brighten as she holds out a blue, plastic recorder. “What about Twinkle, Twinkle, Little–”

I give the recorder the most hostile stare imaginable. “No!”

“Listen here, you little rat-faced twatwaffle,” Mrs. Crane says, thrusting a finger at me. “You go in there and teach them to play something on this goddamn recorder, or I’ll shove it so far up your ass, your sneezes will sound like a fucking symphony.”

I narrow my eyes at the old woman. “Why are you here again?”

“Because your Lady’s my ride.” She jerks her thumb at Story. “And apparently you needed someone to kick your ass.”

Story has been running ‘errands’ with Delores for a while now. No one knows what they’re about, but Killian figures someone should keep an eye on her until we figure it out.

“Dimitri,” Story says, gripping my leather jacket. I know she’s pulling out the big guns when she gives me that look, all big-eyed and pleading. “Music means a lot to you. It gave you something amazing and safe. What if even one of those kids in there could find the same thing? What if they saw you–how good you are at it–and how it shaped your life? Got you into college. Gave you a purpose.” She pats my chest, imploring. “You can show them–tell them about how you got here.”

I gaze into her eyes. “You want me to tell them that I was illiterate, passed from one grade to the next, charmed my way to graduation, and then convinced my house girl to give me blow jobs and teach me to read?”

“Dimitri!” Story hisses, jaw dropping as she swats my shoulder. “Oh my god.”

I snatch the recorder from her, eyes narrowing. “Who the hell donated these, anyway? We could have gotten a piano, you know.” I’m going to really miss the piano when we move out of the LDZ house. The long nights spent composing on it. The mornings eating my girl out on top of it. Leaving it behind is bad enough. “Hell, I would have settled for some string instruments.

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