CHAPTER 55:
"To buy the truth and sell a lie,
The last mistake before you die.
So don't forget to breathe tonight.
Tonight's the last so say good-bye."
30 Seconds To Mars (The Modern Myth)
In the passenger seat of Patch's black jeep, Marcie sat uncomfortably as she tried to get a reaction out of him. She sat upright with her shoulders back and her chest out hoping he would notice how skinny she was today. But nothing – not even her bouncy soft curls or her flirtatious kisses – got more than a notice.
She wanted him to take her the way he had the night he first showed up at her house. He'd kissed her without permission, without a single cue from her, but now she had to practically beg for his attention. She knew that if she could bed him that he would be hooked on her, addicted to her sex. She could hold the power if only she could get him to give in to her the way all her other boyfriends did.
Why wasn't she good enough? Had her novelty worn off? Had something changed?
She asked these questions but in the back of her mind she already knew the reason for his behaviour: Nora Grey, the other woman.
She wanted to believe that Patch was over his ex but when she heard about them spending Friday night together – the same night she was having her house party – she knew she was a fool to believe it. She was furious.
From a man, she could expect that kind of behaviour, but not from someone as self-righteous as Nora. She already had her chance with Patch and now she was ruining Marcie's chance at happiness (or at least satisfaction), but she had become used to people trying to tear her life apart. It was not really much of a surprise coming from a Grey.
"Looks like my parents are still out," Marcie said, as they pulled up next to her house. "Do you want to come in?"
"For cookies and tea?" Patch asked, sarcastically. He knew exactly what she wanted to do.
She giggled flirtatiously. "Yeah, my cookies and tea," she purred, stroking her hand down his arm.
He smirked and replied, "Sounds like it'll take longer than five minutes."
"I only need four," she said into his ear.
"Can't. I've got things to do," he told her.
"What the fuck? Why won't you fuck me?" she screamed.
For once, the expression on his face could be read: surprise.
"I know you're not gay because... well... are you?" she asked.
Very calmly, he answered, "No."
"Then what is it? Is it because of Nora? Can you only get your cock hard for her?"
Patch sat still, not ready to answer her question.
"Fuck you, Patch Cipriano! Go blow yourself, you fucking douche!" she yelled as she got out the car and slammed the door. "Get off my fucking street, you Nora-fucking dick!" And she stormed up the pathway to her house.
"I'll pick you up at eight," he yelled through the open window. Marcie turned around and gave him the middle finger. He tried not to laugh as he drove away.
He understood what Marcie was upset about but there was nothing he could do to put her at ease. It wasn't because he was in love with Nora that prevented him from satisfying Marcie; it was because of his rank as a guardian. Being an angel means not giving into pleasure, that's why angels don't have all the senses that humans have. To give into carnal pleasure is perhaps the greatest sin of all. Besides, we all know the product of a human-angel night of passion, and the higher-ups deplored them.
As a fallen angel he could do anything he pleased with no punishment, but since getting his wings back he's been on a tight leash. Even though guardians are meant to fit in with their human, they are in no way allowed to cross the line of sexual pleasure. Kissing was allowed, however, because no pleasure could be gained from it and it had become such a common form of human communication. Adapt or be found out.
The laws say that angels who commit an offence are cast out from the Holy Realm and become fallen. If a fallen angel should redeem himself and 'get his wings back', one offence will cast him out of the Holy Realm and into eternal damnation: Abaddon.
For this reason alone, Patch rejected Marcie's proposition. If he committed a single sin, he would be sent to hell for all eternity. And he would not take that punishment just to soothe an insecure little girl.
He didn't go far from Marcie's house after dropping her off. If she was home alone, he would have to be nearby in case she was in danger. It would have been easier to accept her invite into her home but it had become such a tedious task of continuously turning down her advances that he'd rather just wait down the block. Even though the teleporting was immediate, it took longer the further away you were from your human. Failing as a guardian was a punishable offence.
Inside, Marcie threw her handbag on the kitchen counter and slammed the front door closed. She huffed as she paced around the room before finally getting a glass of water to calm herself down.
He had things to do? Well she had things to do too.
She walked across the living room and opened the white sliding doors to her father's study and closed them behind her. She took a mental photograph of what the room looked like before she touched it.
Opposite the entrance was a large, wooden desk with a laptop in the centre, a filing tray on its right and a stationary bowl on its left. The large bay window filtered in plenty of light through the netted curtains.
To her left was a bookcase that ran along the entire wall up to the window, and opposite that was a blown up photo of the Richmond city skyline at night in its multicoloured lights. Richmond was where her parents met.
She made her way to the filing tray on his desk and sifted through each envelope of post. Those which were open, she read through the contents, and those which were closed she inspected the senders' details. She didn't care that it was her dad's private things. He had kept secrets from her before and she thought it was her duty to make sure he wasn't keeping any more. It was how she found out about his secret in the first place but she never told anyone, not even her mother.
She wanted to protect her mom from the hurt the secrets would cause. It was a difficult burden for Marcie to bear and she didn't want her mother to suffer the same way. Hank would always be her father, but her mother had a choice to divorce him. There were very few things that made her feel safe and her family was one of them.
When his post didn't arouse any suspicion, she logged on to his computer. He had a password but she knew what it was. She had been going through his private space for many years and he hadn't changed his password once.
She browsed through his recent items, pictures and internet history before opening his e-mail account. Her dad was a very busy man with many contacts so exploring his inbox, outbox, sent items and drafts could take an hour or more, but because she'd done this level of snooping in her father's database for many years she could be finished in less than half an hour.
Just then, her father's phone started ringing. Was he home?
She quickly logged out of his e-mail and computer, stood up from his chair and placed it in exactly the right spot before going to the study door. She put her ear to the door and listened for any movement in the house. But the phone kept ringing.
She slid open the doors and looked around before completely leaving the room in search of the phone. It was coming from the kitchen.
She searched the area, her ears guiding her. The sound got louder as she moved behind the counter until she got closer to the stove and the cellphone began to scream its ringtone. Behind the fruit bowl, she found the phone connected to its charger. She saw the caller ID and picked it up.
"Hank Miller's phone. Marcie speaking," she answered. "No, he left his phone at home but you can call him at work... Okay... Bye Bye." And she hung up.
Part of her investigative itinerary included her dad's cellphone and once in a while, he was away from his phone long enough for her to read through any incriminating text messages or call logs and delete them. Daddy made mistakes and she made sure her family wouldn't have to pay for them.
She unlocked his keypad and looked through the call log, nothing unusual there. Then she opened his text messages where she found a conversation between her father and Blythe Grey:
See you at noon. – Blythe
Was good seeing you today. Was just like old times. – Hank
You haven't changed a bit. Still charming me into bed. – Blythe
Are you sure it wasn't the other way around? – Hank
Can't say I haven't missed you. – Blythe
I've missed you too. – Hank
