Breaking Meredith (Disciples 4)

The breathing through the phone seems to calm and his voice returns to that cold, detached tone as he says, “You’re not going out tonight, Meredith.”

Those six words make me want to scream, but that won’t get me what I want.

“Why? Why not? Why does he insist on punishing me?” I ask.

So the nice way didn’t work. Time to switch gears and pretend to be remorseful.

“Look, I’m sorry I asked for Matthew’s protection. I realize that was a mistake now and I greatly regret it. I assure you, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“This is not a punishment, Meredith” he says slowly, snidely, once again letting some emotion slip. “This is for your own protection.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I knew this would be difficult, and he hasn’t hung up on me yet.

“Just let me go,” I resort to pleading, though it’s probably lost on him.

If there were any way to sexually manipulate him, I’d do it in a heartbeat. He’s not a bad looking man. In fact, he’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. I’d take him to my bed without thinking twice about it. But Simon is beyond being influenced in that way. The couple of times in the past that I’ve tried with a look here or a touch there, have only caused him to shut down completely. To become even colder. More distant.

I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he’s gay. It would explain why he seems to be stuck so far up Matthew’s ass.

“I swear, you’ll never see or hear a peep from me again,” I add, hoping to entice him.

“No,” he says so firmly, so strongly, I’m taken aback.

“No?” I repeat in disbelief then repeat again more shrilly. “No?!”

Fuck this shit, I’ve had enough. This has gone on long enough. I’m pulling out the big guns. Playing nice never works with him, he gives me no choice but to act the bitch.

“If I don’t get out of this shitty little townhouse, I swear I’m going to slit my wrists and spill my blood all over everything. The furniture… the curtains… the carpets…”

Yeah, I’m well aware that Simon is a germaphobe and a total neat freak. It’s yet another thing that makes him annoying.

He sounds almost bored as he asks, “With what blade?”

Oh, fuck this guy. Yeah, they removed everything from this house that could be used as a weapon, but I’m still pretty damn creative.

“With my teeth,” I hiss.

The line goes quiet, and I know he’s weighing whether or not he believes I’ll go through with it. Just for shits and giggles, I lift my hand up to my mouth to see what happens.

“Fine,” he hisses back, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or freaked out. Is he really watching me right now? Or was that just a coincidence?

“Fine?” I repeat for clarification, keeping my hand close to my lips.

“I’ll take you out,” he grinds out like he’s gritting his teeth. “But it will have to be to one of our protected properties.”

That’s not exactly what I was wanting, but I’ll take it. “What are my choices?”

“The compound. One of the bars. Or…”

Neither of those options sounds particularly appealing.

“Or?” I press.

His voice is thick with disgust as he says, “One of our many strip clubs.”

Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Not only because it will probably be easier to slip away in the dark of a strip club, but because it’s so obvious Simon hates them.

“I want to go to a strip club,” I grin and drop my hand.

“Of course you would,” he says like it’s supposed to be an insult or something.

I roll my eyes at the ceiling. What man doesn’t like strip clubs? I was only pretty sure before, but I’m one hundred percent certain now.

Simon is totally gay.

“Pick me up in a couple of hours,” I say and hang up the phone.

3

Meredith

The tires of Simon’s SUV squeal as he hits the gas. Behind us, the night sky is lit up with a glow of orange as the inferno consuming Lucky Tails blazes towards the heavens. Sirens flash, red, white, and blue, illuminating the burning building.

It looks like a party in a hell, and I just barely escaped it.

I glance over at Simon. He looks… unraveled. In the three months that I’ve known him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. His eyes are wild, full of emotion for once, and yet focused with a purpose. The hair he usually keeps slicked back is all over the place. His tie is askew. He shed his suit jacket, but there is still blood all over his shirt, arms, and hands.

Cherry’s blood.

He killed her. I watched him lean in close to her like he was a lover and shove a blade in her chest.