The argument continued, but I didn’t care about what they said. All I could focus on was the sound of her voice. She had a little bird-like inflection she used at the end of each word in a sentence. She took a step back, and I could see her fully. Her dark hair was a rich shade of black ash that fell in waves around her shoulders. She was dressed in a tidy pantsuit, a white blouse that stood out against her lightly tanned skin, and small heels that said she meant business. The long coat she wore had me raising an eyebrow. It screamed detective or Fed.

The arguing subsided, and the couple headed out of sight to the opposite side of the restaurant. I quickly shifted my food to the other side of the booth and slipped around so I was facing their direction. I counted the heads of the other people in here this early. Only six people sat between me and my prey. I could see the top of her head as they slid into a booth and just make out the ghostly reflection of her face in the window.

Appreciating her beauty, she reminded me of an expensive doll that collectors would sit on their shelves. Hopefully, soon, she would sit on mine. Well, part of her, anyway.

The flustered waitress returned with my extra syrup, and I could see the confusion on her face. She’d noticed that I’d changed sides.

“Sun was in my eyes on that side,” I said and took the offering.

I poured the multiple bottles of syrup on my waffles and dug into the breakfast that had a lot more flavor than it would’ve before my violet-eyed ray of sunshine walked in.

Sunshine?

Huh? I’d never given anyone other than Abel a nickname. Most of his were derogatory slurs. I was transfixed and completely fascinated that someone other than Abel was holding my attention.

Time to stalk a pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl.

Time to stalk a pretty girl so early in the morning.

Time to make the girl mine, the girl mine, the girl mine.

Time to make the girl mine so early in the morning.

Time to slit her pretty throat, pretty throat, pretty throat.

Time to slit her pretty throat and keep her as my trophy.

The stupid song that Abel created ran around in my head, and I couldn’t help but smile. As I ate my fluffy waffles, I was able to admit that sometimes my brother was quite creative.

Chapter 6

KIRBY