by Mia Caldwell
I started listening in earnest. Fuck it, my curiosity was going to kill me.
"I have plans, Dahlia," Liam growled. I shot him a fearful look. He sounded close to murder.
"...don't care...your terms," her voice was tinny through the speaker but I could hear the contempt.
"Dahlia...," he held the phone away from his ear. "Fuck you too," he growled and hung up the phone.
I shrank back further. His entire body was radiating pure, vengeful fury. The hatred was coming off in waves. I felt sick to my stomach.
"Can I help?" I ventured.
He snapped his gaze to me like he had forgotten I was there. Gradually the fury left his smoldering eyes and he unclenched his fists.
"Fuck," he exhaled.
"Are you okay?"
He let out a grim chuckle. "Not even close."
I slid closer. "Can I help?" I asked again.
He paused and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He froze there like Rodin's The Thinker for several moments before he nodded, then nodded again. "You can, actually."
"Tell me how."
He chuckled darkly. "I can't believe I am even going to ask you this, but will you come with me into the lion's den?"
"What?"
He leaned back. "I've been summoned to appear before Dahlia Graves."
Chapter Twenty - Six
We swept out of Center City, heading west on Walnut. The buildings of University City gave over to the tightly packed rowhomes of West Philadelphia. Crossing through Upper Darby, we suddenly emerged into the entirely different world of the Main Line.
The longer we drove, the more Liam's mood lightened.
"Just let me see what she wants and then we'll go," he assured me.
"There are plenty of amazing restaurants out here," I nodded. "The night is still young."
He smiled at me. "Thank you for coming with me, Shay, I know it's asking a lot."
"Hey, I'm finally meeting your mother," I grinned. "That's even more 'officially dating' than going out to dinner."
"After putting you though meeting Dahlia, I feel like I owe you a loftier title than just girlfriend."
"What were you thinking?"
"Hmm, I'll have to consider it," he smiled as we rolled to a stop. Darius threw the car into park and came around to open the door. Liam grabbed my ass as I emerged from the open door. "I like you in skirts," he said in that thick whisper of his that signals he's about to say something filthy. Darius chose that moment to head right back into the driver's seat.
"It's finally warm enough to wear them," I replied, my skin buzzing. I knew Liam didn't care to hear my explanation, but he nodded all the same. And the truth was, it really wasn't warm enough to wear a skirt. I was shivering, but right now it had nothing to do with the cold.
"Give me your underwear," he said.
Ah, there was the filthiness.
I hesitated. I didn't know Dahlia and she didn't know me. And from what I did know, she sounded like a complete horror show. A brittle old woman who would find going bare-assed completely scandalous.
I nodded. "Right here?"
He nodded once. I reached up under my skirt and handed the scrap of white lace to him. He took it, crumpled it in his hand and tucked it into the inner pocket of his suit coat. "Thank you."
I squirmed, feeling the bareness of my thighs brushing against the silk lining of my skirt. "Thank you," I half moaned.
Liam turned to face the gray pile of stone. "We just see what the hell she couldn't say over the phone and get out of here," he leaned his head close to my ear. "I have something new I want to try tonight."
I swallowed hard, the ache already sounding in my groin. "Okay," I could handle a short visit. This was the woman who raised Liam...and I really liked Liam, so maybe I'd end up liking her after all?
Liam took my arm. His stiff spine, the tight grip of his fingers, the pulse that beat at his temple all put me on high alert as we walked through the high door into the grand foyer. He steered me to the left, into a vast great room. "She knows we're here," he rumbled as he sat back on the Victorian sofa alongside the huge fireplace. "We can relax for the moment."
I smoothed my skirt and sat down, acutely aware of my nakedness underneath. I was trying to do exactly that, but as I looked around, my whole body was on red alert. There was something so...wrong, about this house. And as I looked around it began to dawn on me what it was.
Just like Liam's apartment, there was nothing here that pointed to a personal life at all. No baby pictures. No snapshots, no portraits...no record of Liam's childhood at all.
It was like he didn't exist to her.
But that's ludicrous. She's his mother!
I looked harder. I must have missed them. I stood up and walked to the mantle and eyed the framed portraits there.
They were pictures of white Persian cats.
A flutter of revulsion made me giggle hysterically. I shot a look at Liam, but he was staring straight ahead, lost in brooding, angry silence.
"Oh shit!" I startled as a white blur shot past me. Like one of the pictures coming to life, a gorgeous white Persian leapt up and settled into the chair by the fire. It turned three times and then settled down to watch us both with disapproving eyes.
I looked from this animal back to the pictures on the mantle and back again.
It was one and the same.
"Dahlia breeds Persians." Liam sounded like he had something stuck in his throat. "Or, rather, she sponsors a breeder so she doesn't have to deal with the messy life bits that gross her out...." He pointed to the odd assortment of vases and urns that lined the great stone mantle. "All this guy's parents and grandparents, right there."
I felt my nose twitch. No record of Liam's childhood, but she had shrines to her dead cats. It made my skin crawl.
There was the echoing sound of high heels on the marble floors. "Billy?"
We both turned at the voice, me startling badly, Liam turning more slowly, his every movement dripping in contempt.
Dahlia Graves stood in the wide doorway, resplendent in a designer suit and a string of pearls. She was taller than I had expected. Her hair was cut into a sleek, stylish pageboy. It was as smooth as glass and was a shade lighter than the dove gray suit she was wearing.
She looked down her aquiline nose at us, and I recognized the wicked set of her mouth. It was the same as Liam's. But while he had that boyish dimple to offset its severity, Dahlia's lips were cruel.
She stood there impatiently. She was waiting for some kind of greeting, but Liam didn't make any move to say hello. He only stared at her....
She, in turn, stared at me.
"H-hello," I stammered. "I'm Shay." I held out my hand.
She looked down at it like I had offered her a dead fish. I was certain she knew her son had my panties in his pocket.
"Shay," she repeated. She made my name sound obscene.
Liam made a low sound and moved behind me, squeezing my upper arms possessively. "Dahlia, this is Shay. We were just on our way out for the evening...."
"You're together?" she said. It wasn't so much a question as an accusation.
Liam gently moved me aside and stepped in front of me. I hated how grateful I was to be out of her direct line of sight. She was looking at me like I had just defecated on her carpet.
"Why did you want me to come over instead of just telling me on the phone?" Liam was exasperated.
"Well, Billy, I certainly don't want to keep you from your plans with...Shay," she spat my name out and I felt the gooseflesh rise on my arms. My cheeks were heating up and my heart pounded in my ears. I was going to lose it in a second. "But this," she smacked an opened envelope into Liam's palm, "needs your signature."
Liam didn't look down, but that dangerous pulse beat at his temple. "What is it?" he asked, steel in his voice.
Dahlia eyed me and then lifted her chin. "Family business."
She looked back and forth with those icy blue eyes that chilled m
e to the bone. "Enjoy your night out together."
"So...that's it?" Liam asked.
"That's what? I have plans too. Your brother doesn't like waiting for his dinner," Dahlia said, her voice a chill in the air.
She swept from the room without saying goodbye.
"You have a brother?" I stammered, watching her go. Their entire exchange felt thick with secrets. If I were still looking for hidden meanings, I was sure to find them lurking in every shadow. Hatred, guilt - a whole lot of racism. Layers upon layers of them. Dahlia Graves was like an onion of bad feelings.
"I don't have a brother," Liam said dully. "She's talking about the fucking cat."
I wanted to laugh but there was too much sadness in his voice.
I closed my fists and waited a beat. This new information was something I couldn't process. Whether to laugh or cry, I wasn't sure anymore. And Liam wasn't giving me any guidance. He was silent...except for the quickened pace of his breath.
I felt like ice water was pouring into my chest.
When I dared sneak a look at him, Liam was staring at the piece of paper his mother had handed him. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning, not really reading, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. The muscle in his jaw twitched like a metronome, beat beat beat.
When he saw me staring at him, he crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it into his pocket. "Darius, please take Shay home," he said, staring straight ahead.
Darius stepped out from the foyer. The momentary realization that he had been hiding there, away from Dahlia's icy blue disapproval made me jealous. I wished I had joined him. But that didn’t mean I would go with him now.
"Liam, what is it?"
He didn't answer. I could taste panic. "Liam...?" I reached out to touch his arm.
He threw my hand off of him. "Please...," he grunted, his rage barely contained - at me, at the letter, at Dahlia, I wasn't sure but I was still terrified in its proximity. "Just go. Do as I say."
Terror was replaced with temper. "No! Just because I let you..." I lowered my voice, "do things to me doesn't mean I let you order me around. This isn't the bedroom, asshole."
"Just GO!" he thundered, and his face was terrible.
Darius stepped swiftly to my stunned side. "Come with me Shay," he said, reaching out his hand. "I'll take you home."
Chapter Twenty - Seven
Two texts and three phone calls later and I still hadn't heard anything from Liam.
I replaced my phone on the counter and looked at Kit. "Nothing."
He shook his head. "Of course he turns out to be an asshole. Guys that look like that? They always are."
In spite of how much I wanted to agree with him, a small part of me still rose to defend Liam. "He's not...normally an asshole."
"Honey, how in the hell do you know how he is...normally?" Kit shook his head. "Good in bed doesn't mean good for the head."
I snorted. "Where's that from?"
"I just made it up." Kit preened a little, slicking down a curl of red beard.
I shot him a sarcastic smile. "Well then, you're brilliant!"
He sighed. "If I were brilliant, I would come up with a way to save this place. If only to stop my mother's crying."
The image of Mrs. Young's kind face crumpled in tears nearly brought me to tears myself. I brushed it to the side as quickly as I could. "You'll think of something."
"Well I can't very well keep asking you to go without a paycheck."
"Kit, I'm fine," I soothed, and then I reddened when I remembered why I was fine. Liam had paid my bills the night I let him tie me up.
I was a fucking prostitute.
No. He didn't get to just shove me out of a rough part of his life. Not if he claimed this meant something to him.
"Earth to Shay!"
Kit had been talking. I snapped back into focus. "Sorry."
"Girl just go then!" Kit exploded. "Fuck, I mean, I'm not even paying you right now, I can't make you stay here. Go find your man and demand to know why his fine ass is being a dick." He trailed off and pretended to wipe drool from his mouth. "Sorry, got distracted there a second. It was a nice image."
I laughed out loud. It felt good. "You sure?"
"Positive. Give 'em hell. Then have crazy makeup sex."
That was an appealing thought. "Thanks, lover. Kiss mama for me."
It was still too damn cold outside, but the sun was shining brightly and the steady drip drip of the melting snow off rooftops gave me hope.
It was a long walk to Liam's office, but strangely I didn't mind. I was actually doing something about what had happened. With Tre, I only stood back in denial. Now I was actually confronting Liam's behavior head on. Telling him he couldn't get away with it. Not with me.
I wasn't that kind of girl anymore.
Walking north on 8th street, I started crossing the city diagonally, moving from the working class shops below South Street up through the deserted touristy areas and into the glass-walled canyons of Center City.
Liam's office was in the high rise at 17th and Locust and by the time I reached it I was really regretting not taking a cab.
My hair was frizzed out underneath my woolen cap and I was sweating underneath my puffy jacket. I didn't smell too great either.
But I still held my head high in the lobby. And luckily there was no security to stop me from heading right to the elevator.
His office was on the top floor. He probably had an incredible view of Liberty Place. I bounced up and down on my toes and realized I was actually excited to surprise him at work. I wanted to see his face light up when I walked in.
Then I sternly reminded myself of why I had come. To give him hell, in the words of Kit Young.
But I still couldn't hold back the teeny bit of pride I felt when the elevator let me off into a long hallway leading to a large oaken door with his name on it. William Graves Development, it read in sleek, gold script.
My man.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed my way in.
And heard shouting.
I froze. The roof of Liberty Place was just outside of the floor to ceiling windows, but no one was there to take in the view. No receptionists, no assistants, no employees. Just loud, angry voices from down the hall.
I started moving to the door, my curiosity getting the better of me. I passed workstations that were still powering down, still warm and humming. Chairs were pushed back like people had left in a hurry.
A shout and then a crash. I hurried down the hall towards the sound of a woman, screeching incoherently.
And then a loud voice. A firm voice. Liam's voice shouting back, "Lily, stop it!"
Lily.
My pulse sounded in my ears. Thick choking rage closed off my throat.
Lily.
Lily was here.
Alone with him.
I reached the door. The screams had been replaced with muffled sobs now. I heard Liam's voice rumbling, soft and soothing.
I pushed the door open. And saw her in his arms.
She was tiny while he was huge, pale while he was golden. Her fine blond hair hung in tatters down her bony back. She was thin to the point of being skeletal.
He was holding her. Close, so close, petting her hair and whispering while she clung to him.
Everything about her was the opposite of me.
I pushed the door open wider and it let out a creak.
Both of them froze. They turned to look at me.
Liam's face crumpled. "Shay. Shit."
And then I was running.
Chapter Twenty - Eight
They were all staring down at me. Jasmine, Kiki...even Kit stood over me like the Cowardly Lion in Wizard of Oz.
And I was Dorothy, waking from a horrible, horrible dream.
"What happened?" I murmured sleepily, stretching as I sat up. The left side of my body ached, my feet ached, my head pounded. I blinked and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
"You blasted through t
he front door yesterday afternoon," Jazzy said. "I was grading papers on the couch and you mumbled something about wanting to just sleep forever." Her lip curved into a sardonic smile. "And then you fell on the couch and proceeded to do just that."