Page 63 of Devoured
“Don’t fuck me while you’re high again,” I warned.
“How many times do I have to make that same promise until you believe me?”
I didn’t know. But I wanted, maybe even needed, to give him that chance.
“I still need to convince you of my submission,” I said slowly. “I need this club.”
“Note taken,” he said in a low voice. “Now let’s get over it and move on.”
“Move on towhat?” I asked. “What? That you’re ruining a perfectly good stage?”
“You’re mad because I want to make an improvement?” He shook his head. “Stop holding onto the past, Iris. We’re here now. Dahlia is gone. It’s time that things changed.”
He turned to the stage, moving away from me, resuming his work like it was nothing.
“No,” I said. I pulled his arm, yanking him back to face me. He startled, the surprise evident on his face. “You don’t get to do this. You made a promise, Roland. We shook on that bet. Your bet. You have to honor it like I have to.”
Something changed in him then. His features shifted, as if tentatively waiting, then released.
“The Dahlia District is more than a business to me. You know that,” I said. I tried for anything, grasping at something that would get him to see my side for once. “And I’m fine with the change,” I said. “Really, I am. It sucks, but I can deal with it. I wanted to keep the stage, but if you’ve got a better vision, then I’m all for it.” I crossed my arms. “But please. Keep me in the plans. I want to be involved.”
His eyes turned vacant. “You’re right,” he said, his tone downcast. “Again. Hell…” He stopped, then turned to me. “We made a bet on a business,” he said. “I owe you that much.”
My gut wrenched seeing that shift in him. I wanted to reach out, to ask him what was wrong. What was going on in his mind that he kept pushing me away, that he kept resorting to pills and alcohol instead of me? But I did nothing. He started talking to one of the contractors, asking them to explain the renovation plans to me. The contractor opened his mouth, but I didn’t hear any words. My eyes were glued to Roland. His slumped shoulders. The flat expression on his lips. His dark eyes empty, holding onto nothing. Scanning over me.
