Scream Queen by KT Morrison

Author:KT Morrison [Morrison, KT]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-21T04:00:00+00:00

Part 3

Succotash

Saturday, June 29

15

At seven o’clock on the nose, he showed up at Chelsea’s door with a hundred-dollar bottle of red wine. As soon as he pressed the doorbell, he’d already taken a step back looking to get the hell out of here. What was he thinking? This was crazy...

But then there was movement behind the glass and he knew it was too late. He straightened his posture and waited. The door opened and there she was: Chelsea Cunningham.

The girl of his dreams wore a turquoise tank top that clung to the perfect shape of her breasts then billowed loosely around her tummy. She wore jeans again, faded Levi’s that looked soft as felt. Her feet were bare, a gold ring on the toe next to the pinky on her right foot. Her hair was messy, hanging around her beautiful face and spilling over her tanned shoulders. “Well, holy shit,” she said.

“How’s it going?” he asked, trying to sound cool.

“Ben fucking Todd. What the hell are you doing here?”

He showed her the bottle of wine and an open palm. “I thought you invited me for dinner.”

Now she folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb, put one bare foot over top of the other and studied him, her eyes going up and down while she smiled. “I did, Ben, I did. But there was no way in hell I thought you would ever show up.”

“Because I’m garbage?

Her smile was warm and nice. “Because you’re a big sack of chicken-shit garbage.”

“And yet I’m here,” he said.

“I couldn’t be happier,” she said, that smile pulling to one side, practically sneering. “Come on in, let’s have some dinner.”

He handed her the bottle of wine (but she didn’t even read the label), stepped up into her foyer, and she closed the door behind him. Bottle cradled at her side, she said, “Come into the kitchen...”

“Wow, your place is awesome,” he said.

“We didn’t just move in,” she told him, “we’ve been here a while.”

The narrow foyer was furnished with vintage items and potted plants. Everything was black and white, the floors were polished ebony wood, and original art in contrasting frames leaned artfully on shelves and even on the floor. The art shouted colors, bright primary pieces, some invoking comic books and old lurid movies from the fifties and sixties.

He kicked off his shoes, put his hands in his pockets and strolled along behind her as they headed toward the archway that led to the kitchen. He could smell that she was cooking. There was garlic and meat and...

But when he came into the kitchen, he found they weren’t alone. Standing at the counter with her back to them was a tall slender girl with a body not that different from Chelsea’s. This girl had long jet-black hair that hung down to her ass. She wore cut off jean shorts and her legs were dark and shapely. There were feathers and arrows tattooed from her knee down one calf toward her ankle. She also wore a tank top, a white one; tattoos scrawled down her right arm.

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