Railed at the Bacchanal by Dalia Davies EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Dalia Davies
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
The Party’s Over
THE CD’S SKIPPING.
I grip the steering wheel just a little tighter instead of smacking the
dashboard of the car. Property damage isn’t a part of the job.
The car isn’t mine.
The CD isn’t mine.
Hell, not even the time is mine.
Not technically.
The next thirty-four minutes of my life have been bought and paid for and
if all I’m doing today is playing delivery girl, well… it’s not the most fun I’ll
have ever had at work, but it certainly won’t be the most taxing of the various
tasks I’ve been… commissioned for.
I park Mr C’s car in front of the library. The lot is deserted. The facility
closed hours ago. Its windows are dark, its doors most certainly locked. Even
the sky seems too-dark tonight.
There isn’t a soul in sight.
I don’t even hesitate to hop out of the car. This isn’t the safest place to
roam at night, but where I’m going… The Valley has much worse to offer
elsewhere.
My phone buzzes and I check it, reading the text from my mom, before
using the keyboard shortcuts to cobble together an appropriate response.
I’ll get her dry-cleaning tomorrow. Even if the place wasn’t closed,
tonight is for getting paid.
I catch sight of myself in the car window as I lock it with the fob and
barely recognise myself. I look a little like a soccer mom tonight, but that’s
just a lie woven through fashion.
My usual clothing would have looked incredibly suspicious at the safety
deposit facility where I collected my “husband’s” effects….
And even now, it’s better to look like a young mom heading to the return
slot than draw attention to myself.
I’ve got one client for the night. I don’t need anyone else looking to tag
along.
I hold the bag loosely in my hand as I walk toward that return slot, but I
don’t even look at it. The side of the building curves, and when I’m out of
sight of Mr C’s car, I make a sharp left and head for a pair of stairs hidden
behind a statue of the god of pleasure.
That’s the only time I pause.
The brief moment before I start down into the courtyard, I press two
fingers to my lips, and then carry that up to kiss Diyo’s. They are polished
copper, not the real thing… but that’s probably for the best.
If Diyo was here, they’d have a million questions.
What’s in the bag? Where did you get those awful shoes?…
At least the shoes are comfortable. Function won over form this time.
And the god of pleasure wouldn’t begrudge me comfort.
I’ve never met them, of course, but we’ve all heard the stories.
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