Page 44 of Buried Beneath Sin

That’s saying a lot since looks aren’t what typically turn me on about a person.

“Service is over, ma’am,” someone announces behind me.

Ma’am?

I roll my eyes as I turn around. The guy walking into the room is in his mid-twenties and the epitome of a bro-dude. He wears a simple sports jacket with khaki pants, neither of which look like they’ve been properly fitted to his frame. With wide shoulders, a square face, and short but messy mass of bland brown hair—he looks like he peaked in high school and is now in his fizzle out stage.

“Excuseme?” I ask coolly.

“Oh.” He blinks as he takes me in. Instantly his demeanor changes. The corner of his upper lip curls as his nostrils flare and his pupils narrow. “Sorry, I thought I was talking to a woman.”

“Well, there’s no woman here,” I shrug.

His eyes drag down my body and the disgust on his face intensifies. “No, there is definitely not.”

Some people simply can’t deal with the fact that there are those out here in this big old world that care about their appearance. Clearlyhedoesn’t. Look at those scuffed, out of style shoes he’s wearing. The guy is probably still clinging to underwear he wore back in high school that’s now riddled with holes and a waistband that’s just barely hanging on.

Gross.

I smile at him brightly, tucking away my own prejudices for his type. “Well, I’m just on my way out.”

As I move toward him and the exit, the guy crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve never seen you around Chasm.”

“That’s because I’m not from here.”

Years ago, I would have stammered and shook under the tight mocking smile that spreads across his face. His type can be such assholes. But I’m not the same person I was back then. Thanks to Thatcher and Sagan, I’m not the pathetic quaking fool I once was.

I move to step around him but am forced to stop as he sidesteps to stand in front of me, preventing me from leaving. My stomach tightens with anticipation as my smile grows brighter. Does he want to play? Because I got time and a lot of pent up energy. This idiot wouldn’t even see his death coming.

“You know, my father and I run a church. If you’re still in town tomorrow, you should come to our service,” he offers. “Maybe we can cure you of your affliction.”

That’s right, goad me. See how well this turns out for you.

“Oh yeah? What affliction is that?”

Before he can answer, another guy around the same age steps into the room to join us. With long greasy red hair, a gut that belongs to some drunkard, and adult acne so thick it looks like he has a rash all over his face, this guy is even more of a wash out then the first one. The newcomer places the card table he’s carrying on the floor with a huff.

“Hey, Trevor, what do you want me to do with this—oh.” The redhead sizes me up just as quickly as his friend had. “Who the fuck are you?”

Great, now there are two.

The guy who stopped me originally, who must be Trevor, snickers. “This here is my new friend. I was just telling him how coming to my church might do him some good. What do you think, Sebastian? Think God can save this one?”

“Maybe?” Sebastian says, inspecting me as if he’s looking for anything their god might find redeemable. “The Lord can create some awesome miracles, but it’ll take a lot to fix this one. Look, he’s wearing lipstick.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s lip gloss.”

“Whateverit is, you shouldn’t be wearing that stuff. It’s for girls,” Trevor replies.

Oh god, I’m going to have to deal with people like these two for the foreseeable future. Why did I agree to go through with this plan with the twins again?

I cross my arms over my chest. “Says who?”

Sebastian snorts. “Says everyone. What guy wears makeup? And what the fuck are you wearing?”

“That’s a woman’s shirt.” Trevor shakes his head. “Look, it’s my job to help you save your soul. Since God hates f?—”

“Don’t you dare say it! You don’t get to talk to my guest like that, Trevor,” a soft voice snaps from behind both guys.

---