He walked in and closed the door behind him. Well shit, now I knew how I would react when I was under attack. I would die. Hecate wriggling in my hold snapped me out of it. I let her go, bunching the towel in my hands.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why haven’t I seen you at the house?” he asked.
“The lot’s being shipped; I don’t have to come anymore. Why are you here?”
“Don’t play dumb, Audra. You’re a smart girl, we both know the answer to that question.”
Didn’t people say speak of the devil, and he would appear? There he was; Beelzebub. For a second, I didn’t know what the hell to do. What the hell did he expect me to do? Just strip and let him ravish me? It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, I was just a little offended that he didn’t bother being the least bit delicate about it. I was still a chick. I liked to be wooed. I could do the caveman thing too, but at least take me out a couple of times first.
The doorbell rang again, re-engaging my faculties. I tried to go get it, but he was closer than me. He turned and opened it. Okay, you can show up unannounced, that’s one thing, but this? When did this become our apartment? I came up behind him and tugged on the door for him to let me see who was there to see me. Me, not us. He was talking to them, but I couldn’t see who it was. His body blocked them. I noticed the back of his head. Was that a tattoo?
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Levi was saying. I pulled on the door to make him let go. A confused and enraged Brandon was standing at the door about to say something to Levi before he saw me.
“Audra, who is this guy?” he asked me.
“Brandon, I told you not to come back here,” I said, officially over it. I walked back into the house. I’d been fielding his texts and calls since I had told him it was over that morning with Zahira over text message. Was he here to call me a bitch? Maybe he had, I just hadn’t read the text.
What happened to my Friday night? Didn’t either of them have anything better to do? After bathing the cats, I was going to get some work done. Not Strickland’s work. My mother had taken steps to make sure I appreciated the arts—visual and otherwise. She was an opera voice coach back in New York.
She’d had me in art classes since I was old enough to finger paint: drawing, painting, sculpture, calligraphy, everything. The calligraphy was all that had stuck. I could murder typography but couldn’t do a still life to save my life. Zahira had convinced me to use that for something. Some occasions called for beautiful writing. I had written literally hundreds of wedding invitations on commission but whatever paid the rent and vet fees. Her biggest tattoo, across her shoulder blades, was a quote from Anna Karenina which I had designed for her in gothic script.
“Audra, you can’t just-. What the fuck man?” I turned. Levi was standing between Brandon and me. His back was to me, but the air felt heavy the way it did when he and his brother were staring each other down. I didn’t want to see Brandon, but I also didn’t want to see him get his teeth knocked in.
“Brandon, I need you to leave. You and I have nothing to discuss,” I said gently. I walked over to them, standing between the two. I could feel Levi behind me as I looked at Brandon. His eyes kept darting between me and the man behind me.
“Who is this?” he asked menacingly. It took me out for a second; he had never been this mad. His voice was dripping with venom. What usually happened in these situations was he would beg me to take him back, say he was sorry, and cry. He wasn’t just mad, I realized, he was jealous.
“Are you really going to make her ask you again? Get out.”
So, kicking people out was something Levi was just good at. His voice was threatening. It was like he was asking Brandon to try to stay here longer than the next ten seconds. To try and see what happened.
“Audra?” Brandon demanded.
Levi barreled past me and grabbed him.
“Levi, don’t,” I said. I didn’t want a fight. “Brandon, just leave, okay? Levi… just, wait here,” I said, wanting to deal with them one at a time.
I walked Brandon to the door, stepping outside with him and holding the door closed.
“Are you and that dude together?” he demanded.
“That’s none of your business, Brandon. You and I are not.”
“Was it when we were still together?” he demanded. Oh, he wanted to play that game? I wasn’t going to bite.
“I told you this was the last time. I’m done.”
He dragged his eyes up and down my frame. I was in a tank top and sweatpants; I was spending the night at home. My hair was up, and my makeup was gone. I had no reason to feel self-conscious. He was the one at his ex’s house begging for another chance after repeatedly being told to fuck off.
“So what, that’s it? After two years this is what you’re going to do?”
“I said it was over and I was serious. Brandon, I’ve given you two years, and it was truly two more than you deserved.”
“You’re not going to hear me out?”
The doorknob flew from my grasp. Levi appeared in the frame glaring at Brandon. Obviously, we’d taken too long.
“Not again. Leave,” I said to Brandon. He looked at Levi. Both were silent, but they must have communicated something. It was just like when he and his brother were staring down in Jackson Strickland’s house. Brandon said he would be back and without looking at me again walked away. I sighed. Had I just taken the stairs instead of the elevator? Sure felt like it. I was tired. I was done. Who were all these men in my house and could they all just fuck off? I walked back into the apartment. Levi followed me.
“Oh no, you have to leave too,” I told him.
“Who was that?”
“He was- nobody you need to concern yourself with,” I said, stopping myself from telling him. “I need you to leave.”
“Is he stalking you? Is he harassing you?”
“No, you are,” I said walking away from him. I was doing something before he showed up. The water was probably cold. I went to the bathroom and checked it. Frigid. I pulled the plug to start draining it. Where was Hephaestus? It was feeding time already; Hecate would start up soon.
“What are you doing?” he asked. He sounded close, in the bathroom with me. I started filling the bath up again.
“I was trying to groom my cats, before you showed up,” I grumbled. I left the room to look for Hephaestus. He was going to be so mad. I checked my bedroom, and there he was, a kitty lump in the middle of my bed, under the comforter. I lifted it and saw him looking up at me, in a way I’d describe as dolefully.
I carefully lifted him and held him against my chest. He was meowing in protest.
“Give me the cat,” Levi suddenly said. Hephaestus was wriggling in my arms. I felt the tips of his claws against my skin.
“No,” I said automatically. Levi was rolling the sleeves of his shirt up like he was going into surgery. Hephaestus leaped from my grasp.
“Go check the water temperature,” he said. No, I wanted to say again. I watched as he approached my skittish cat. He let Hephaestus rub his face in his hand before he gently picked him up. What was happening?
“Is the bath ready?” he asked.
I went into the bathroom and turned the water off.
“Hold his chest and scruff,” he instructed me. He knelt by the tub and lowered a mewling Hephaestus into the tub. I followed his instructions as he efficiently soaped the cat up and rinsed him off. I did this often; he wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know, it was just stuff I didn’t realize he knew. I’d never had a partner grooming my cats before. When he gently pressed Hephaestus’s paw pads to clean around his claws, I knew he had done this before.
“You have a cat?” I asked. He lifted Hephaestus out of the tub. I grabbed a towel and took him, patting him dry.
“No. We had them in the house growing up. My sister likes these bald ones too,” he said. He scratched Hephaestus under the chin.
I heard Hecate at my feet. It was food time. Sh
e meowed at me plaintively before walking over to their empty food bowls. I put Hephaestus down and went into the kitchen. I pulled their food out of the fridge and picked the bowls up to fill them. I felt Levi’s eyes on me the whole time. I didn’t like it. He was too quiet—like he was up to something. I’d rather he did anything but watch me silently like that.
“Did you want something?” I asked, out of everything I could have asked. For instance; why are you here, how do you know where I live, why haven’t you tried to kiss me yet?
“What did I tell you about being shy?” he snapped. “You know exactly what I want because you want it too.”
“Did you and Debbie fall out or something?” I asked sounding bolder than I felt. “There are professionals you can call to help you with those particular problems.” He didn’t say it and didn’t have to. I knew what he wanted. He could have been less gross about it, though.
“You’re hesitating, and I want to expedite this anyway I can.”
“Sorry, buddy. No dice,” I said.
“You aren’t doing yourself any favors denying yourself what you want. What I can give you,” he said.
“Maybe, but it’s killing you, right? Please leave my home. Don’t come back again.” I turned to walk away from him.
“Stop,” he barked. I did, before realizing I had and started again. “Stop,” he said again. I looked at him.
“Come here.” I stopped myself before I could start moving toward him.
“No,” I said. He paused before he walked towards me. Long angry strides. Well, it’s been a great twenty-six years, was this how I died? He held me by the back of my neck again, making me look up at him. I expected him to kiss my lips, but he went for my neck instead, sucking, and using his teeth. It made me hotter than I wanted to admit.
“Stop it,” I said breathlessly. He didn’t. His hands held me still. One of them reached up into my hair and pulled it free, so it tumbled down my shoulders. “Stop,” I said again weakly. I wanted and didn’t want him to at the same time.
He backed away from me slowly. I swallowed looking at his dark face.
“That is the last time I’m letting you refuse yourself,” he said ominously.
He turned around without another word and left.
8
Levi
It’s disheartening how much of anyone’s information is ready and available on the Internet. It was good when you had to do research, though. I had a few things to look up.
The day after the wake when she didn’t show up, I thought nothing of it. That was until Vanessa told me someone from the auction house had come and it was a fat man named Roman. He said he was there to start shipping. I told him to get off my property and tell his superior I wanted to see Audra.
The next day, Roman was back, once more without Audra. One of two things was going on. Either she was avoiding me, or there was really no need for any more visits because they were shipping the stuff over to Strickland’s and Roman was not lying to me. I needed to get all that shit out of the house, anyway; that wasn’t a problem. Audra avoiding me, however; that was.
I had gotten my laptop out with the intention of working. Dad’s funeral was soon, and word had gotten out. Virtually all the calls and mail I had been getting were those of condolence. My assistant back in New York, Lindsay, had been surprised that I was still working. Maybe I should have done the mourning thing for appearance’s sake but since when did I care about appearances? I had gotten my head tattooed and had been ready to spend Dad’s funeral in a Hong Kong casino.
I had ended up typing Audra’s first and last names into Google hoping to get lucky. I could have asked for her medical records and gotten them if I really wanted. Birth certificate, social security number, dental records; I could find out how many fillings this girl had with one phone call, but I didn’t.
Audra Francini.
All I needed was a Facebook page. A LinkedIn. A defunct blog from her college years. Anything. All that came up was the Strickland’s website and a LinkedIn page and a couple of other things that didn’t really help me. She wasn’t as active on social media as I had expected for someone her age. Twenty-six. I had five years on her. Better than the eleven years my father had had on Mom.
I didn’t make a phone call to find out how heavy she was at birth, but I did make one to Strickland’s asking for her resume. It was emailed to me in less than an hour. This felt a little more respectful than hiring someone to dig up her old college transcripts.
The reason why I wanted it really was to find out where she lived.
I found out a lot of interesting things in the process, however. Her middle name was on her resume—Elise. She had two degrees; her second was in art history, the first was in art history and the classics. Double major—impressive. Magna cum laude. Fluent in French. She’d been working since high school. She’d interned and volunteered extensively, and she was certified with the American Society of Appraisers.
She lived in Noe Valley, pretty close to Strickland’s. Decent neighborhood. It was a lot of families that lived there which made me think for a second; was she somebody’s mother? It was possible. Twenty-six and no kids would have been good, but if she had one, what did that have to do with me? I mean it was her I wanted. We weren’t getting married; I just wanted to bang. She didn’t come as part of a package deal, did she?
Whatever. I wasn’t keeping her. I couldn’t. I was going back to New York. I didn’t even want to keep her. She was still insisting on depriving herself. If she really wanted to keep playing that game… shit, there were beautiful girls with long hair in New York, and I’d find one. I liked to get what I wanted. I usually did. I didn’t tend to have this sort of pushback when it came to women.
She had looked like she had been expecting someone else when she’d opened the door. Probably the guy who had come in after me. Brandon Evans. Now that guy I did have investigated.
None of the information had told me that she and he were exes; she basically had. They both had with the way they were acting around each other. She lived in a building with a doorman; he needed to watch who the fuck he let in to see her. She lived alone. The fact that I was able to go see her was a problem too. Money got you around most roadblocks, but all that told me was Audra’s doorman wasn’t above letting strange men up to her unit.
Brandon was apparently not employed, but he lived in the Mission. How the fuck did he swing that? He’d gone to college, but obviously wasn’t using his degree. A loser. Audra was obviously serious about her charity work because she’d taken in a fucking stray. She had two cats, speaking of strays. An acceptable number. More than three and we would have had a problem. They were no strays though; those hairless ones were like two grand a cat.
Everything was set. We were in her house, and once Brandon had left, we were alone. All she had to do was say the word, and I’d take it from there. I’d take her from there, wherever she wanted, as hard as I wanted. We’d put her cats in the spare bedroom and go to town. I’d fucked cat moms before. As long as they didn’t jump up on the bed and try to make biscuits on your back mid-fuck, it didn’t bother me. Her hesitation, however, was getting annoying. If she was shy, she needed to get over it. It wasn’t cute. It was cute, a little, but it was only a matter of time before it became unacceptable.
No dice, buddy.
Her words ran over and over in my head. She was so defiant—too defiant—to make up for the fact that she didn’t want to admit what she really wanted. That was the last time. It was one thing that she wanted me, but she was just making it hard for everyone involved. Me specifically. Next time I saw her, it’d be game over. I wasn’t staying in Marin forever.
Mom was heading back home to LA, but Sissy was staying a little longer. Her trip was right after the funeral which was the next day, so she invited Sissy and me over to have dinner with her the night before. She was cooking. She always would when either of us would see her. She even would when we were kids sometimes even though we had Vanessa. M
ax had been an ass to her when Dad and his mother divorced, but even he couldn’t say no to her cooking. We would gorge on dulce de leche till we threw up.
The condo in Pacific Heights was in one of our developments. There was a penthouse in the building, but I lived in one back in New York. I didn’t need two. Any furnishing beyond the bed, television and couch had been done by my mother or Sissy. Since they used it, it actually looked like a home; carpets on the floor and more kitchen implements than just a coffee maker. It was more than enough space; about two thousand square feet. The other units were about the same, or slightly less if they had just one room instead of two. The fitness center, pool and rooftop terrace had been my idea. All great. I didn’t use any of them, but the whole building had been sold in a month and a half. Like I said, all great.
I got to the house at half past seven. Sissy had bought barbecue ribs and blood sausage from the Argentinian place on Mission Street which was the only passable steakhouse we had been able to find. Mom had made empanadas, savory and sweet, noquis and locro. I brought the wine. We sat at the dining table. It was made to fit at least three more people, but the table was complete. Our family was complete. Once we moved out of the Marin house, Mom made us sit down together for meals every single day.
She had shone as a single parent; I didn’t know why she hadn’t jumped ship earlier. Dad had believed he was raising very different people than we had ended up being. He was raising his daughter to be the over-educated trophy wife of somebody like himself, and me to be the sort of asshole who married a trophy wife.
“Are you excited to go back home, Mom?” Sissy asked her.
“I don’t know when the next time I’ll see either of you will be,” she said.
“Maybe you should stay so I can see you whenever I have to work from here,” I suggested. She rolled her eyes. “Sissy said she and Kat might be moving here, didn’t you sis?”
“To San Francisco?” Mom asked.
“No, to LA, to be near you. And we’re just talking about it, we haven’t made any real plans yet,” she said scowling at me.
Levi (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 4) Page 6