Ben let himself in the house and slogged up to his bedroom, grateful the rest of the household was already asleep. He needed liquid courage and some sleep before he was ready to face Mom, especially since Anya would be at breakfast as well. That woman was toxic.
Mom might be mean, but Anya was like a poisonous gas that flowed in, around, and through everything, leaving behind the corpses of her victims. And all the while, Anya would smile in your face and look like a retired runway model.
Ben pulled off his clothes and left them in the hamper. He loved the vibe at the nightclub and the ability to earn and control his own money, but he could do without coming home in the wee hours of the morning reeking of alcohol and sweat.
