Marney in the Middle

Chapter 22: End of the Party

A/N: Photo is of Francis, Malcolm and Reese's older brother.
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Reese's POV

Malcolm called Francis, who arrived within two hours. If anyone could deal with these meth thugs, it was him. Or so my brother hoped.

Meanwhile Marney remained prey to that creep.

"Where are they," Francis asked soon after he arrived. He wore black pants and coat, a white shirt and donned black leather gloves. Dressed for the part at least.

"The garage."

All three of us wander out there. About an hour ago, Marney went in there with Donny. They stopped kissing (finally), but he kept feeding her drinks. I kept trying to not care, but that was a total bust. It should've been me out there with her. Or at least that's what I thought she wanted...

I cooked to pass the time. Made soufflés, pot pies, spaghetti, corn bread and a fruit salad. Threw the last one away – no one likes fruit salad. I just needed to distract myself.

What was going on with Marney, and why did I even care?

I'm not heartless or anything. I just don't find myself caring all that much about what other people do. So tripping up over this girl I'd just met a couple weeks ago was really weird. I didn't like it.

Don't like it.

We stand outside the garage, Francis explaining the plan. I don't listen. Just nod so he doesn't call me on not listening. Anything to get this disaster of a night back on track.

Tonight was never about Marney. I just wanted to have a quick party for fun. But now that she's with the meth dealer, I kick myself mentally. I must have not given her enough attention. Maybe tonight should've been about her. Is that something girls like?

Francis knocks on the garage door and cocks back the shovel he brought with him.

Donny answers. I glare at him until he glances at me, causing my expression to soften. Damnit. Need to toughen up. This has to be dealt with the old fashion way. A battle of fists, not a battle of wits. But, then again, he could kill me.

Stupid meth cooking asshole.

"Donny?" Francis asks, lowering the shovel.

Wait—what?

"Francis!"

The two of them greet each other like old pals. Great. This is exactly what we need.

I kick a lump in the lawn and grind my teeth together. This will probably be blamed on me, too. And why not? If this family has two habits it's blaming me for everything bad and praising Malcolm for everything good.

The backyard is messy with stuff. Reminds me of Marney and her obsessive need to clean everything. Like a weirdo. I want to stomp on the twerp's toys till they're nothing but bits and scatter their remains on every inch of this patch work lawn. Watch someone clean that up.

Donny closes the door in Francis' face.

I shake off my frustration and pay attention.

"That's it?" Malcolm asks.

I cross my arms in silent agreement to his indignation. Francis shrugs, "Sorry. That's it." He starts to walk away, but Malcolm grabs his arm.

"What about Marney?"

"Who?" He squints for a second but remembers. "Right. You're girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Malcolm snaps back with a glare.