Beers, Lies and Alibis (Warblers Point Series Book 2) by Meghan Quinn Page A
Authors: Meghan Quinn
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Neala…”
“Hey quack, what the hell did I say? Keep your fucking two-cent opinions to yourself.”
The need to take off her high heel and drive it through Phil’s prodding eyeballs was almost overwhelming. She had been feeling extremely violent lately and she didn’t like it at all, especially when she was with her daughter.
Neala would never hurt her daughter; she was the most important thing in her life, but the other day while they were sledding, Neala felt an overwhelming sense of annoyance at her daughter’s laugh. A child’s laugh…shouldn’t that bring someone great joy? Shouldn’t a parent love to hear that joyous ring of their child in such a happy state? Was she that fucked up that her daughter’s sweet laughter made her want to rip her sled to pieces with her teeth?
“What has your brow creasing like that? What are you thinking about Neala?” Phil asked, in a soothing tone that once again grated on her nerves.
“I need new medication.” Neala rubbed her head as she felt defeat take over her body.
“I can give you medication Neala, but you are also going to need to learn how to talk about your feelings. You can’t rely on the medication. If you keep bottling things up you’re going to explode, and not just on me.”
A tear fell down Neala’s face as she tried to rein in her erratic emotions. She didn’t want to talk about her feelings; she didn’t want to be in this damn office that was suffocating her to death. She was suffocating.
Neala looked around and saw the walls starting to get closer to her with every breath she took. Phil’s irritating voice rang through her ears constantly telling her to talk to him as the room spun at all different kinds of crazy angles.
Her lungs seized in her chest as she tried to gain air into her body. She couldn’t breathe, nothing was coming in. Someone was suffocating her. It felt like a pillow was being shoved in her face. She thrashed about, trying to knock away whoever was trying to suffocate her, but she couldn’t make any kind of contact. Instead, she gasped for air, praying that whoever had a hold on her would just end her life; just get it over with.
Flashes of Catherine ran through her head as the room turned to black and she felt herself drift off into the dark.
In the faint distance, she could hear Phil scream to the receptionist to dial 911, but she didn’t hold on long enough to find out why because everything went black and she finally felt at peace.
***
“Thanks for coming in again, Tipper. I know it’s not your usual night,” Finn said, as Tipper wrapped an apron around her waist.
She was wearing an O’Leary’s polo, a short black skirt, and heels. She always wore heels, which perplexed all three O’Leary men since at the end of their night, their feet were begging to be put up, so they had no clue how Tipper was able to wear heels for an entire shift.
“Not a problem, Finn.” She patted Finn’s face and walked toward the bar.
At that minute, Bradon popped out of the kitchen and spotted Tipper. A scowl crossed his face.
“What the hell is that skank doing here?” Bradon asked, as he pointed at Tipper.
It was going to be one fucking long night, Finn thought, as he approached his brother. Finn dreaded when he had to work weekends because that meant he had to work with Bradon and Tipper together. They were like a bathtub full of water and a powered up hair dryer; they don’t go well together and you didn’t want to be anywhere near them when they were together…it was deadly.
“Just because you couldn’t pay a hooker to suck your dick off today doesn’t mean you need to take it out on us,” Tipper said, as she started stacking glasses.
Finn laughed to himself as he watched Bradon struggle for a comeback. Most of the time, Tipper won their battles about who could throw the most insults and Finn knew it drove Bradon insane.
Personally, Finn thought
“Hey quack, what the hell did I say? Keep your fucking two-cent opinions to yourself.”
The need to take off her high heel and drive it through Phil’s prodding eyeballs was almost overwhelming. She had been feeling extremely violent lately and she didn’t like it at all, especially when she was with her daughter.
Neala would never hurt her daughter; she was the most important thing in her life, but the other day while they were sledding, Neala felt an overwhelming sense of annoyance at her daughter’s laugh. A child’s laugh…shouldn’t that bring someone great joy? Shouldn’t a parent love to hear that joyous ring of their child in such a happy state? Was she that fucked up that her daughter’s sweet laughter made her want to rip her sled to pieces with her teeth?
“What has your brow creasing like that? What are you thinking about Neala?” Phil asked, in a soothing tone that once again grated on her nerves.
“I need new medication.” Neala rubbed her head as she felt defeat take over her body.
“I can give you medication Neala, but you are also going to need to learn how to talk about your feelings. You can’t rely on the medication. If you keep bottling things up you’re going to explode, and not just on me.”
A tear fell down Neala’s face as she tried to rein in her erratic emotions. She didn’t want to talk about her feelings; she didn’t want to be in this damn office that was suffocating her to death. She was suffocating.
Neala looked around and saw the walls starting to get closer to her with every breath she took. Phil’s irritating voice rang through her ears constantly telling her to talk to him as the room spun at all different kinds of crazy angles.
Her lungs seized in her chest as she tried to gain air into her body. She couldn’t breathe, nothing was coming in. Someone was suffocating her. It felt like a pillow was being shoved in her face. She thrashed about, trying to knock away whoever was trying to suffocate her, but she couldn’t make any kind of contact. Instead, she gasped for air, praying that whoever had a hold on her would just end her life; just get it over with.
Flashes of Catherine ran through her head as the room turned to black and she felt herself drift off into the dark.
In the faint distance, she could hear Phil scream to the receptionist to dial 911, but she didn’t hold on long enough to find out why because everything went black and she finally felt at peace.
***
“Thanks for coming in again, Tipper. I know it’s not your usual night,” Finn said, as Tipper wrapped an apron around her waist.
She was wearing an O’Leary’s polo, a short black skirt, and heels. She always wore heels, which perplexed all three O’Leary men since at the end of their night, their feet were begging to be put up, so they had no clue how Tipper was able to wear heels for an entire shift.
“Not a problem, Finn.” She patted Finn’s face and walked toward the bar.
At that minute, Bradon popped out of the kitchen and spotted Tipper. A scowl crossed his face.
“What the hell is that skank doing here?” Bradon asked, as he pointed at Tipper.
It was going to be one fucking long night, Finn thought, as he approached his brother. Finn dreaded when he had to work weekends because that meant he had to work with Bradon and Tipper together. They were like a bathtub full of water and a powered up hair dryer; they don’t go well together and you didn’t want to be anywhere near them when they were together…it was deadly.
“Just because you couldn’t pay a hooker to suck your dick off today doesn’t mean you need to take it out on us,” Tipper said, as she started stacking glasses.
Finn laughed to himself as he watched Bradon struggle for a comeback. Most of the time, Tipper won their battles about who could throw the most insults and Finn knew it drove Bradon insane.
Personally, Finn thought
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