Daddy Warlock Read Online Free Page B

the dam thing. “It’s mustard.” He was working his way through the condiments this week.
    As the lock released its grip, a deep sigh arose from the house. “You’re late again. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten dinner, have you?” Its whiny voice lay in the hightenor range.
    â€œNo. What’ve we got?”
    After an almost infinitesimal pause, the computer said, “Tuna salad. Curried rice. Yogurt, assorted flavors. You ought to eat the rest of that fried chicken you brought home yesterday. As you know, Rajeev’s a vegetarian.”
    â€œThank you for your concern.” Shouldering his way through the door, Chance wondered what perverse impulse had led him to design a computer program that nagged.
    As he entered the living room, wall sconces bloomed with light. The voluptuousness of the velour couches, lacquered chests and Persian carpets struck him as gaudy, but he never spent time in this room anyway. His housekeeperhad to clean the darn things, so Chance had allowed Rajeev and his sister, who also lived on the premises, to pick the furnishings.
    Turning to his right, he wandered down a hall to the kitchen. Shining butcher-block counters, freshly waxed linoleum and gleaming stainless-steel sinks testified to Rajeev’s efficiency. Prompted by the computer, the toaster oven was preheating.
    Chance peered into the refrigerator. Using his mind, he shifted a few items until he could retrieve the chicken. Levitating objects might be a mere parlor trick, but it was good for mental discipline.
    After putting the chicken in the oven, he ambled down the hall to his bedroom suite. He’d always slept in the tower until that night with his lady, but since then it had brought back too many vivid memories.
    He needed to forget the woman and move on. Chance aroused plenty of feminine interest in the course of his work. Why couldn’t he bring himself to return any of it?
    As he unknotted his tie, the sudden blare of recorded music stunned him into nearly strangling himself. After the initial startled moment, his senses identified a sultry tango.
    Slipping into jeans and a polo shirt, Chance adjourned to the courtyard. There, beneath spotlights, two exotic figures tormented each other across the flagstones. A man’s shiny shoe stamped out a beat, a multicolored skirt snapped and a lithe female body twirled as two pairs of black eyes met and defied each other.
    â€œExtension!”
    â€œHand position!”
    â€œTilt your head!”
    â€œToo slow, too slow!”
    The words rasped in time to the music. Sweat beadedon dark skin. Faster, faster they pounded, until the dancers flung themselves into a back-bending, arm-bracing finale.
    â€œWell?” said Rajeev, pushing his sister unceremoniously to her feet. “What do you think, eh?”
    â€œBetter,” Chance decided. “You’re definitely getting the hang of it.”
    â€œBut do you think we have any hope of a trophy?” asked Vareena, smoothing her skirt. Although five inches shorter than her brother, she had the same dramatic coloring and erect posture.
    Three years ago—a year after Rajeev came to work for Chance—the pair had fallen in love with dancing while watching the movie Strictly Ballroom. A clerk at a convenience store, Vareena practiced with her brother whenever possible. Now the waltz, the paso doble, the tango and the samba echoed through Chance’s dreams.
    â€œAs much hope as anyone,” he said. “Great costumes, except…” He changed the color of Vareena’s hair ribbon from green to a shimmering rainbow. “Think you could find a fabric like that?”
    â€œTruly wonderful,” said Rajeev.
    Vareena removed the ribbon and studied it. “Yes, yes, very nice. I will look for it.”
    Chance relaxed his concentration, and the green color returned. The brother and sister applauded. They never lost their appreciation of his antics.
    On the