Page 61 of Martyr
“Not right now,” he amends.
The humor seeps from me. I straighten, blinking rapidly. “You weren’t joking?”
Ouranos looks at me blankly and doesn’t answer.
I stiffen. “The one thing I care about—and you’ll deny me?”
He sighs. He sits on his throne—a booth along the back wall of his bar—and swirls the whiskey in his glass. It must be a little demeaning to slide his bum across the leather to remove himself from it. I think I’d like to see that, just to get a snicker in. Butright nowis no laughing matter.
I spin away abruptly, pacing the length of the empty bar. The stools are all tucked away, the booths wiped down. Everything in this wretched place is sotidy.
Enough of that. I plant my hands on the bar top and spring up, hopping over with ease. I land amongst the liquor bottles and glasses, the empty chest that will hold ice when this place opens.
If it opens.
The bartender comes out from the back and stops short.
I pick up a bottle of whiskey. “How much does this cost?”
The bartender glances at his boss, then back at me. “For you, sir? N-nothing.”
“Oh, goodie.” I twist off the cap and upend the bottle. The amber liquid splashes the rubber mat under my feet, droplets getting on my boots. It goes and goes, until there’s nothing left. I pivot and whip it across the room, and the bottle shatters on the far wall.
I crack my neck and grab another bottle. Vodka.
“This one?”
“I—”
“It’s only a tantrum,” Ouranos interrupts. “You may leave us.”
The bartender turns and flees. I chuck the bottle at his head, and it explodes against the doorframe just beside him. He gives a yelp and moves faster, disappearing from view.
Pity.
“Are you about done?” Ouranos asks.
I find the glasses, all in neat rows, and fling them to the floor.
Shards everywhere.
There’s a baseball bat under here, too. For unruly guests? It has a nice weight to it. I bounce it up and down, my grip firm, then heft it. It slips from my grasp and flies into the shelves of liquor. It breaks more than a few, knocks some loose, the glass shelving cracks. Everything is sounstable. One rogue person…
“Enough.”
I tilt my head, ignoring that his voice is suddenly a lot closer. He’s not over the bar, yet, but I think I could push him into that. I smile to myself and pick up the bat again, this time keeping a hold of it when I swing. It has alotmore power that way.
“My parents didn’t get me into sports,” I say. I lift the bat over my head and bring it down straight in front of me. “Never got to toss a ball with dear ol’ dad—oof.”
Ouranos catches the back of my neck and shoves me down with surprising strength. My cheek cracks into the counter, bits of glass slicing my skin. The pain isn’t off-putting. I’ve always welcomed it with open arms, and this time is no different. Not his firm grip, not the glass. Not the way my body contorts.
More, I want to shout.
“You work for me,” Ouranos says in my ear. “You do what I say, when I say it. You do not defy orders simply because you think you know better—or because your time is more important than mine.”
I exhale. “What are you ordering?”
“We have a new business venture. One you’re decidedly experienced in.”
