Layers

by Alexander, TL

  “We’ll get you settled, grab some lunch, then I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  “Sounds great,” I say as we continue.

  When we reach the end of the hallway it opens into a massive marbled and mahogany foyer. We trail through the foyer and up a split grand mahogany staircase.

  When we reach the second floor, Mary points to the right. “The master suite is to the right.” She turns and winks. “All the guest rooms are on the left.”

  Lane and I follow her down the left hall. We pass several bedrooms and when we reach the end bedroom she opens the door. “This is my favorite bedroom, Alexia. It’s filled with light and faces the west garden.”

  I walk into a large sun-kissed room dominated by a king-sized metal and wood canopy bed. Flanking the bed is a mahogany mantled marble fireplace and two overstuffed green and blue floral print chairs. I drop my laptop satchel and duffle on one of the chairs and wander to the window. I scan the west garden. It reminds me of the formal gardens at Gram’s estate in Scotland. I miss Gram and her crazy mature friends.

  I turn and walk over to the bed as Lane puts my luggage near a dresser then plants his ass in a chair. I look down at the duvet. “Who is this?”

  Mary pops her head out of the in-suite bathroom. “Oh, that’s Justin Bieber.”

  “Beeb bedding. That’s creepy.” I pull back the duvet. “Beeb sheets, super creepy.”

  Mary saunters out of the bathroom. “It’s a Beeb bed in a bag set.”

  “That’s just wrong.”

  “Don’t look at me. It’s Jaxson’s idea of a joke. He said something about this being the only other guy you’ll be sleeping with in his house.”

  I can’t help but giggle. “The Beeb’s a little young for me.”

  “Not a lion, huh?” Lane says.

  Mary and I look at him.

  “It’s cougar you idiot,” Mary says while shaking her head.

  “Whatever,” he replies.

  “If you think this is creepy, take a look in the bathroom,” she adds.

  I stroll into the bathroom. I take in the overwhelmingness of JB. There is a large stack of JB imprinted towels and wash clothes. A matching shower curtain, rugs, soap dispenser, toothbrush holder, trashcan and toilet lid cover complete the JB ensemble. I sit down on the covered lid.

  “I had no idea that they still made these” I say and wiggle my ass.

  “Yeah, they still make them.” Mary pouts.

  “I have never understood the purpose of covering a toilet seat lid.”

  “Me neither. Who the hell knows why?” Mary smirks. “But just think, you’ll be able to say you sat on the Beeb’s face.” She laughs.

  “Not something I’d even confess to.”

  “I put extra plain white sheets and towels in the linen closet. I agree—all this Beebness is a bit much.”

  We walk out of the bathroom. “Well Alexia, we’ll leave and let you unpack and get settled. I’ll come and get you noonish for lunch.”

  “Okay, and Mary, thanks for everything.”

  “It’s my pleasure. We’re all excited to have you here.” She wanders to the door, exits, and then shuts it behind her.

  Two seconds later she flings open the door. “Lane,” she calls.

  “What?” He gives his mother a cheeky grin.

  “Lane,” she says again in that “mom voice”. You know that voice—the one that says “Don’t mess with me, boy”.

  “Okay, I’m coming.” He hops up and shuffles to the door.

  “See ya later Lex.”

  I nod.

  He winks. Mary swats his head. The door shuts, and stays shut.

  Mary comes and gets me noonish as promised. She gives me a quick tour, then introduces me to the house staff. Lester Bing, is the cook/Jack-of-all-trades and Mary’s BFF. He’s a big man with a bare noggin. Mr. Clean in the flesh. I wonder if Jaxson sees it, too.

  “Alexia, great to finally meet you,” he says as he gives me a big bear hug. “I’ve been experimenting with some new vegetarian recipes and I can’t wait for you to try them.”

  Mary cringes. “I hope you like tofu,” she says quietly as we walk out of the kitchen.

  “That bad, huh?”

  She turns and counts off on her fingers. “Tofu burgers, tofu tacos, tofu pizza, tofu lasagna, tofu-loaf, spaghetti and tofu-balls, sweet and sour tofu, tofu chow mien and several unnamed tofu culinary delights.”

  She rolls her eyes. ”We’ve had tofu in every meal for the last two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It keeps him out of my hair.”

  We, trek down a hall and out to the back gardens. “That’s it for the house staff. I hire additional help when I need it, which is rare. We don’t see much of Jaxson but I have a feeling that will change now that your here.” She gives me a knowing wink.

  We walk through the west and south gardens, or was it the east and north?

  Whatever.

  Mary waves her hands and shouts. “Louie!” A smallish man with a Mets cap, a huge grin and a matching huge-normous nose, waves back.

  When we reach him, Mary introduces us. “Louie, this is Alexia.”

  “Oh yes,” he says with a raised brow. “Jaxson’s Alexia.” Louie removes his worn garden gloves and takes my hands, giving them a light kiss just above my knuckles.

  “Louie is the Head Gardener and the Head Flirt.”

  “Me?” he says in mock disbelief. “I’m no flirt, I just love women, especially beautiful women.” He winks.

  “The gardens are spectacular Louie. Best part of the estate” I say and his grin floods his face.

  “Thank you my dear. Do you like to garden?”

  “I’ve never really tried it.”

  “A virgin,” he replies in a deep, seductive voice. “Could my day get any better? It would be an honor to be your first horticultural instructor.”

  Mary’s lips thin in disapproval. “Oh good God Louie. Alexia is the same age as your granddaughter.”

  “But she’s not my granddaughter, now is she? Beside, you can’t put an age on true love.”

  Mary places her hands on her hips. “In your dreams Louie.”

  “Yes, a man can still dream and even you, my dear Mary, can’t control what or who I dream about.”

  Mary shakes her head. “You’re a sick man Louie.”

  He laughs. “And you love it.”

  Mary rolls her eyes. “Tomorrow we’re having a welcome dinner for Alexia. Cocktails will be served at seven. Make sure you’re on time and your hands are dirt-free.”

  “Yes, Mother.” He snorts.

  We say our goodbyes and head back toward the house.

  As we walk, I recall some warm memories and chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” Mary asks.

  “I was just thinking about my Gram’s head gardener Liam.”

  “Is he a horny toad like Louie?”

  “No, not at all. At least I don’t think so. He’s at least ninety, nearly blind, near toothless and hasn’t picked up a rake or spade in years.”

  “Good God. What do her gardens look like?”

  “Her gardens are grand. Fortunately, Liam has loads of help. He drives around the estate in an old tractor mower yelling orders and cursing like a drunk whore.”

  Mary giggles. “Your Gram must be quite a character to keep someone like him on.”

  I smile. “Gram is most definitely a character. I believe Liam learned most of his colorful words from her.”

  “Lane says that your Gram is Scottish.”

  “Her estate is in Scotland, but Gram is originally from LA.”

  “Really? How did she end up with an estate in Scotland if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “No, not at all. My great-grandparents were—I guess you would call them Hollywood B—listers. Gram says they struggled for years trying to get a break. She remembers living on PB&J sandwiches and grape juice for months.

  One night they went to a pa
rty in the hills and one of their actor friends introduced them to a stockbroker from New York. This broker and my great grandfather hit it off, becoming close friends. One day, this broker called him and told him to take out all their savings and buy shares in a company called IBM. Well, the rest is history, as they say. They made millions over the years, finally making it, but not in the movies.”

  I continue with part two of Grams story. ”Years later Gram went on holiday with her two best friends. After partying for two months in London they set off for Scotland. Gram told me that they got bored with the Brit men, but I found out from her friends that they got kicked out of their flat for being loud, lewd and loose Yanks.”

  Mary laughs.

  I continue. “So anyway, they were on their way to some ruins outside of Edinburgh and got lost. So they stopped at a pub for directions. Gram walked in and spotted a handsome Scot sitting at the bar. She went up to him and asked him for directions. He told her if she’ll have a drink with him he’d personally drive them to the ruins. She agreed. They never made it to the ruins but they got married three weeks later.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow. The ruins that they were looking for happened to be part of my grandfather’s estate, the largest in Scotland. Gram says they were destined to be together. So, that is how she ended up in Scotland.”

  “So what about your parents?” she asks.

  “That’s a story for another time.”

  “Okay” Mary says as we walk into the kitchen.

  Two weeks residing at my new digs and I’m going a little crazy. I establish a routine hoping to ward off the crazies. Run, eat, read, e-mail, hangout, eat, run yada, yada, yada. But in the last two weeks I’ve fallen in love with everyone at the estate. Their love for Jaxson is ferocious and they love telling me stories about his past…like proud parents. With each story I grow closer to him, and that scares the crap out me.

  Mary told me that Jaxson wet the bed nightly until he was fourteen. She said he was so mortified that he would stay up and wash and dry his sheets and pajamas. Then replace them before anyone noticed. He was so exhausted each morning that he would fall asleep while eating his breakfast.

  His parents were very supportive and told him it was no biggie that lots of kids wet the bed and he would grow out of it. However, Jaxson continued with his late night routine. After about a year his parents were desperate.

  They had tried everything. Jaxson, was almost fifteen and starting to really notice girls. So Jaxson Sr. informed his son that his bed-wetting was genetic. Ryan men had been bed wetters for generations because they had large penises and their bladders just couldn’t keep up. He just needed to hang in there and in the end, it would be worth it because he would become the envy of his friends. Jaxson never wet the bed again.

  Lester told me that Jaxson ate PB&J sandwiches exclusively between the ages of five and seven. No matter what they did, that’s all he ate.

  Louis told me when Jaxson was ten, he put on his superman cape and jumped out of a tree and broke his right arm and his left leg.

  Lane told me that Jaxson has always treated him like a little brother. And, like all sibs they’ve had a love-hate relationship. Jaxson taught him how to throw a curve ball, how to swim, and how to ride a bike. He also introduced him to alcohol, drugs and porn.

  He took him to his first frat party, his first bar and his first trip to Vegas. And that is where he lost his virginity. So what happens in Vegas really does stay in Vegas.

  BARBIE LOVES KEN

  At the end of my third week of house arrest, I receive my first visitor.

  “Oh my God Girlfriend! I’ve fucking missed you so fucking much!” Jules screams as she jumps up and down in her four inch Louis. They look suspiciously like the once-deheeled pair.

  “I’ve missed you too!” I scream back but forgo the jumping.

  She gives me a big squeeze. “You’ve only been gone for three fuckin’ weeks but it feels like fucking forever. I’ve been so fucking worried about you.”

  Man that’s a lot of f-age. I’ve turned Jules into a fucksayer.

  She releases me, then steps back and takes me in. “Have you fuckin’ lost weight?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re getting plenty to eat?”

  “Yes.”

  She gives me a skeptical look. “They’re not withholding?”

  “Withholding?”

  “Food.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You don’t want to lose your lovely tatas.”

  “Don’t worry, my tatas aren’t going anywhere.”

  Jules peels off her coat and lays it on my bed. She then slowly looks around the room. “Nice digs,” she says with surprise.

  “Yes. What where you expecting?”

  “I don’t know. Not this.” Jules takes a stroll around the room paying particular attention to the baseboards.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking for a radiator.”

  “No radiators Jules. But just down the hall is a locked room that wasn’t on the grand tour. Mary just skipped right past it, like it didn’t even exist. What could be behind that locked door? What do you think?” I taunt. “Maybe whips, chains, fuck benches, fuck tables, all sorts of kinky fuckery toys and torturous fuckery devises. Maybe even a radiator or two.”

  “Ha, ha. Go ahead and mock me—make fun.” She sticks her tongue out at me. She does this a lot.

  I sigh.

  Jules sits in one of the floral print chairs and I join her in the other. There is a knock on the door and Lane pokes his head in.

  “Are you both decent?”

  “Not if I can help it, Dimple Boy.” Jules purrs.

  He grins like a fool and walks in carrying a box and a bag.

  “Where should I put these, Jules?”

  She points. “Right here next to the fireplace.”

  Lane puts them down.

  “You came bearing gifts?”

  “Of course.”

  “What did you bring me?”

  Lane smirks. “Some very interesting things.”

  “You looked?” Jules huffs.

  “Like you have to ask.”

  “You’re a very bad boy.” Jules faux-scolds.

  Lane walks back toward the door and his cell rings.

  “Yo boss-man. No. Yes. I don’t think so. She is” he says, and winks at me. “Yes. Okay, copy that.” He puts his cell back in his pocket. “That was the boss-man. His plane is just leaving LA. He says he’ll see you tonight.”

  Jules raises a brow. “See you tonight? Sounds like you won’t be needing my gifts.”

  “And what would said gifts be?”

  “A waterproof vibrating massage wand and a brand new state-of-the-art clitertator.”

  “What the hell is a cliterator?” Lane asks.

  “You don’t want to know,” I answer.

  “Yeah I do. You did say clit, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then hell yeah, I want to know. I am a guy.”

  Jules gives him a once-over. “Yes, you are. And a very fine one.”

  Lane gifts her with a devastating dimpled grin.

  I clear my throat. “Lane don’t you have work to do?”

  “No. I’m free until tonight.”

  “Really? I’m sure I heard your mother saying something about cleaning…something.”

  He shrugs. “Okay, not a brick wall here. I’ll leave you two fine ladies to your clit talk.” He laughs, struts to the door and exits.

  “If you need any help with the cliterator, just text me,” he calls through the door.”

  “Lane.” I say to the door.

  “Lex,” he mocks and opens the door.

  “Okay, I’m going to go clean…something.” He shuts the door and we wait to hear footsteps walk away.

  Jules sits back and sighs. “Lex, how are you? Really? And what’s up with Jaxson?”

  “I’m fine. Really. I haven’t seen
him or spoke to him. We’ve texted and e-mailed. Why, do you think something’s up?”

  “Nick just said he seemed off.”

  “Nick said, huh? How is Malibu Ken?”

  “He’s great. When you pointed out before that he looked like Ken I wasn’t sure. But yeah, I see it now.”

  “I thought so from the moment I met him.”

  “The funny thing is—I hated Barbie and Ken dolls as a kid.”

  “So did I.”

  “They just weren’t right, ya know?”

  “Yeah I get it. They represent an artificial and unattainable body image that confuses young children.”

  “Well…no. That’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking that they needed to be more anatomically correct.”

  “Of course that’s what you were thinking. Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  “You sure did. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. You’re off your game sister.”

  “Marco sends his love and kisses. He gave me a book to give you. Some biography or something.”

  “Were you able to see him and Henry off?”

  “No, I was in court. Nick and I had dinner with them the night before. I made sure to give them your card.”

  “Can you believe they’ve been married for three years?”

  “No, it seems like just yesterday. God they look hot together—don’t they?”

  “Yes. Incredibly hot.”

  “Well, they were pumped about staying at the Villa. They love that place.”

  “I know that’s why I decided to gift it to them.

  “Oh my God, Lex. They’ll be over the moon.

  “I haven’t been there in years and they go several times a year. I wanted to give them the deed before they left but there was a hang up with paperwork. The agent that I hired in Florence didn’t get the paperwork filed in time.”

  “Well they’ll be thrilled to death.”

  “Everyone here seems so nice. I met Lester when Mary sent me to the kitchen with Marco’s dinners. He looks just like Mr. Clean.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, just like. Nice man, but God bless Marco for sending me meals. Lester thinks the only thing vegetarians eat is tofu.”