Mark, growing suspicious, shouted in the direction of the kitchen, “Ari, get over here!”
Arianne pretended not to hear him, which prompted Mary to admonish, “Say something, dear. Before Mr. Tremont gets all miffed.”
Arianne tossed the vegetable in her hand into a pool of water that formed in the sink “He can be pissed off all he wants, I’m not scared! In fact, I’m the one who should be pissed! If he wanna, he can scram the hell back to the Tremont Estate and throw his tantrum there and save me from his stupid show of dominance! You might be scared of him, but I’m definitely not!”
Her voice was so sonorous that Mary panicked at the thought of Mark hearing her. “Jesus H. Christ, turn down your boombox! What’s gotten into you? All I’ve been seeing is how normal Mr. Tremont has been acting, for Pete’s sake, he still buys you and Smore all these nifty knickknacks! How can something like that miff you at all? Gee, you’re crabbier and crabbier, aren’t you?”
Not about to subject herself to another one of Mary’s nagging, Arianne turned away and marched into the living room. “What do you want?”
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