“Be that as it may, it’s still a creepy apartment.”
She leaned toward him and set a hand on his knee, if for no other reason than to gage his reaction. “You’re my new landlord, so make it less creepy.”
He didn’t seem to notice her hand on him, but it was better than the way he’d flinched at Locks when she’d touched him.
“Challenge accepted,” he said. “What do you want, a new paint color?”
“That would be a start. How about pale green, like celery.”
“You want me to make your apartment look like celery?” He took a drink of beer, considering. “I gotta say, that’s not a bad plan. Nobody ever heard of a haunted house that looked like a vegetable.”
Another classic rock song ended. Next up on the jukebox was a loud, beat-heavy hip-hop song that had been popular on the radio a few years earlier.
Liam’s ears pricked up. He set his hand over hers. “You want to dance?”
She eyed him, trying to decide if he was serious. She’d never taken him as a man who danced, and definitely not in public at a bar where nobody else was dancing and there really wasn’t a dance floor, per se. The thing was, he looked like he was serious. “Now? To this?”
He squeezed her hand. “This is a great dance song.”
“You want to dance here at the bar, just the two of us?”
“Yeah. Don’t make it weird. Are you in or out?”
Oh, what the hell. She was fascinated by the idea of seeing Liam dance. She couldn’t picture it at all. “I’m in.”
He led the way to the empty space between the unused pool table and the jukebox. With his arms loosely at her hips, he walked behind her and pulled her back to spoon him, then dropped their center of gravity and did a body roll into a hip grind. It took her no more than two beats to realize that Liam had skills. Serious, born-to-dance kind of skills. As if the night hadn’t been crazy enough already.
When she finished scraping her jaw off the floor, she let herself go loose and got into the groove of the song. She was a physical person by nature and loved dancing. Letting the beat wash over her, she lifted her arms, closed her eyes, and worked her hips in time with Liam’s grinding rhythm. He whispered the vulgar lyrics against her neck like sweet nothings while his body commanded hers in a whole new way compared to the last time they were back-to-front that night.
As the final notes of the song played, Marlena turned in his arms and nipped his lower lip with a kiss. “You can dance.”
“So can you.”
“You hate people. You won’t even sit down at Locks, but you’ll dance in public?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know anyone here and I’ll never see them again.”
“That makes it okay?”
“Absolutely. That’s the only way I can dance.”
She stroked his cheek, scraping her nails on his stubble. “Freak.”
“I know, right? But what does that say about you? You’re the one here with me.” He kissed her palm, then let go of her hand and walked to the jukebox. After swiping his credit card, he browsed the song lists.
Marlena didn’t see which songs he selected because she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “You’ve got this whole secret side of you that nobody knows about.”
The first notes of another dance-ready hip-hop song played, one that Marlena loved.
He licked his lower lip, then pulled her up against him. “How about you shut up and dance with me for another song?”
She flipped her hair in mock annoyance. “Such pretty words.”
With a hand on her waist and the other getting friendly with her backside, he dropped them low again, rocking her in time with the beat. “My mouth only does one thing well, and talking’s not it.”
She slung her arm around his neck. “You’re not going to get any argument from me about that.”
One song bled into another, and she and Liam kept dancing, locked together in a grind most of the time, except when he was moved to bust out with a solo. Marlena danced solo for him, too, working her hips and ass, showing off her body for him. For all she knew, the rest of the bar was watching, too, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was sweaty and probably smelled like sex and Liam’s cigarettes, dancing after midnight in a dark hole of a bar she’d probably never return to again. She felt freer and younger, more alive than she had in a long, long time.
When the bartender announced closing time, they downed glasses of water, then stumbled to Liam’s truck in a tangle of sweaty limbs, laughing. He pushed her up against the closed passenger-side door of his massive charcoal gray diesel truck and pressed into her. She hated being pinned and raised her hands as a buffer, but then he kissed her, open-mouthed, his tongue back to working its magic. She clutched his shirt and shoved her panic aside, determined not to let it overshadow what a fantastic kisser he was.
They rode home with the radio blaring hip-hop over the rumble of the truck’s diesel engine and the air whooshing in from the open windows. With its lifted cab, the truck was taller and louder than the vehicles around them, and Liam was an aggressive, lead-footed driver, so that Marlena felt like she was riding inside a testosterone-fueled bullet, careening through the night on the wildest, most exhilarating ride of her life.
She stuck her arm out the window, her hand palm down, surfing the wind, and breathed into the moment. Had she ever felt this alive before? This open to possibility?
He followed her up the two flights of stairs to her apartment in silence, without touching her, and with each step she became more aware of his aloofness returning, his restless need to escape. She wanted to see him again, but she didn’t know how to broach the subject because words seemed to fall short between them. By the time they reached her door, she knew he wouldn’t come in.
She stroked her hand through his hair. “You still owe me headstands.”
He let out an amused snort through his nose. “I’m good for it.”
Then he pulled her close and nuzzled her cheek. They lingered in the embrace, breathing and quiet. He kissed her temple, then peeled away and stepped back, his eyes on the stairwell at the end of the hall. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked away without a word.
It took all her effort not to call out to him, to wish him good night or tell him she’d see him soon or to drive safely—some mundane pleasantry to give herself closure. Not until she was locked safely in her apartment and watching his truck drive away from between the blinds in her bedroom did she realize that they’d never exchanged phone numbers. She didn’t even know exactly where he lived within his family’s apartment complex. The absurdity of that, after all they’d done together, struck her funny bone.
She collapsed on her bed, hugging her pillow, her laughter bubbling to the surface, and she lost herself in a giddy high from the wild, unexpected fever dream of a night with Liam McAllister.
Chapter Seven
By Sunday, as Marlena pulled into the guest parking of Olivia’s family’s apartments, she could no longer deny that she’d lost her nerve to tell Olivia that she’d slept with Liam. She still wasn’t convinced she needed to bring it up—ever. If all she and Liam had was that one crazy/wonderful night together, then why potentially hurt Olivia or make her feel awkward about something that wasn’t going to happen again?
She hadn’t spoken to him in the two days since, but she hadn’t expected to. They hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, and furthermore, the distance that had settled over him as he walked her back to her apartment door let her know it’d be a while, if ever, before anything more happened between them.
Then again, as Marlena’s best friend and Liam’s sister, an argument could be made that Olivia had the right to know. Certainly, Marlena had never kept anything a secret from the person she was closest to and who was more than a sister to her about the men she dated or slept with. In the end, she’d decided to give herself until brunch was over to settle the debate in her mind.
In the pockets of parking scattered throug
hout the sprawling complex of apartment buildings, she’d scanned for Liam’s truck but didn’t see it. Still, her nerves were on edge as she made her way to the complex’s office building where she was meeting Olivia. She had no idea what she’d say if she saw him. More importantly, she wasn’t sure what to do. Hug him? Wave?
She was annoyed at herself for being anxious because she wasn’t an insecure seventeen-year-old anymore, but a self-confident woman of almost thirty. Feeling awkward around a man she’d slept with should have been one of the many growing pains she’d retired in her early twenties along with kamikaze shots and glitter makeup.
She met Olivia at the complex’s office and, after filling out the requisite leasing paperwork, walked with her across the grounds along a windy footpath that snaked past a pool area and rec center, then one building after another until they’d reached Building F on the northwest corner, overlooking a lush canyon that had a brook running through it.
Unit 710 was on the ground floor. As soon as Olivia opened the door, Marlena sensed the heavy weight of sadness inside. She followed Olivia in, her heart rate kicking up. What had she gotten herself into?
The walls were painted cream, the carpet blue-gray. Through the sliding glass door on the far end of the living room was a large patio with a terrific view of the canyon.
Olivia linked arms with her and tugged her farther into the living room. “I can see you in that corner doing yoga with the patio as a backdrop. I might even help you take care of the plants you and I are going to buy to decorate the patio, so they’ll stand a chance of surviving.”
She was correct about Marlena’s hopelessly brown thumb, but Marlena couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a little good-natured sarcasm. “Gee, thanks. What a pal.”
The kitchen was larger than Marlena’s current kitchen, with double the counter space of Marlena’s current measly setup, though the cabinets were drab, composite wood with the wood stain yellowing. Set off from the kitchen was a short hallway with two bedrooms and a Jack-and-Jill bathroom between them. Marlena had only ever rented one bedroom apartments, and she couldn’t wait to transform the second bedroom into a home office.
Overall, it wasn’t a bad apartment, but, as Liam had said so eloquently, there was no denying the creepiness factor. She could see how Olivia’s family would have trouble renting it out. It wasn’t as though there were strange noises or odd shadows or whatever other characteristics that haunted apartments were supposed to have, but there was a vibe to the place that was off. Hopefully, the green paint would help.
“What room did she die in?” Marlena wasn’t sure what compelled her to ask, except that it felt like something she should know.
Olivia cringed. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?”
Good question. Maybe she didn’t. She walked from the living room to the kitchen, feeling the crackling static of energy in each room. The energy of the room that bordered the patio was heavier than the other room. She could almost see the death settling like fog over the floor, but it wasn’t until she’d stepped into the adjoining bathroom that she knew.
“She died in the bathtub,” Marlena said.
Olivia appeared beside her. “Sometimes you blow my mind with your psychic stuff. Yes. The police believe her ex-boyfriend attacked her. The sliding glass door in the bedroom was shattered. They think he found her hiding in the tub. No evidence to speak of, but when they went to question him, they found his body hanging in the closet of his apartment, so no one will ever know for sure what really happened. There weren’t any suspicious fingerprints or evidence linking anyone to the deaths. Some people still don’t think the boyfriend killed her. We’ve all got theories, and I’ve told myself the same story about what happened here enough times that I can’t see it any other way.”
A chill crawled over Marlena’s skin.
“It’s not the same bathtub,” Olivia added quickly. “Liam replaced the fiberglass tub and shower unit and all the fixtures, even the flooring.”
The mention of Liam’s name snapped Marlena back to the present. She should tell Olivia about her and Liam. Keeping a secret didn’t feel right, because already it was creating a chain of lies and omissions, such as her being afraid to tell Olivia that Liam was going to repaint the apartment, because then Olivia would want to know when and where she and Liam had discussed it.
So there was her answer. Even if she and Liam were a one-off, she had to confess to Olivia. Not now, though; not in this place, with its off vibes, empty rooms, and echoing acoustics.
At brunch, she’d bite the bullet and come clean. She had no idea how Olivia would take the news, and all she could hope was that she’d be able to look back on how much she’d fretted about this and realize she’d spent the better part of the weekend worrying for nothing.
In her purse, Marlena’s cell phone rang with her parents’ ringtone.
She took the call, and the edge of distress in her mother’s voice stopped her cold. “Mom, are you okay?”
“It’s your brother. It’s Michael. He’s in the emergency room.”
Marlena’s heart sank. Emergency room visits were second nature to their family. When Michael went off his meds or when he had a bipolar meltdown or started hallucinating, that’s where he ended up nine times out of ten, because there was no other safe place for him to go until the episode passed.
What Michael really needed when he got like this was to be admitted to a psychiatric facility, but available beds in the handful of facilities in New York were few and far between, and getting insurance to cover a stay in one was nearly as difficult as finding a bed. So Michael, along with most other schizophrenics like him who weren’t an immediate danger to themselves or others, but who were experiencing a bout of depression, panic attacks, or psychosis, wound up in hospital emergency rooms. It was a frustrating, never-ending battle for care—one that Marlena credited with aging her parents far beyond their years.
“Is he hurt?” Marlena asked. That had only happened a handful of times, and they’d both been accidental, self-inflicted knife wounds because Michael had a thing for hoarding knives.
“No. No, it’s not that. He just had an episode at the group home and that terrible landlord called the police.”
The landlord wasn’t terrible. Marlena had been the one to research and set up Michael in the group home after his last episode got him kicked out of another home. In the few times a year Marlena had seen the landlord since she’d signed the initial lease, he’d always seemed like a decent man, but her parents were great at blaming everyone else when Michael had issues.
She squeezed her eyes closed. “Knives again?”
Olivia touched her arm, her eyes radiating concern.
Marlena shook her head and mouthed, “He’s okay. Episode.”
Over the phone, her mom sighed. “You know how he is with knives. He just feels safer with them around. He never hurts anybody.”
Except himself. And Marlena, once. But she knew better than to bicker with her mom while her mom was in a state of distress.
“Where are you and Dad now?”
“On the highway about ten minutes west of Rochester.”
The Rochester hospital Michael was a frequent flier at was a solid forty-five minute drive from Destiny Falls, and it ticked Marlena off that her mom had waited so long to call her. Like everything else, it wasn’t worth bringing up when her mom was in such a fragile state.
“I’ll meet you at the emergency room,” she said instead.
“Oh, honey, I don’t want to ruin your day.”
Her parents had so many blind spots in their reasoning and such impractical knee-jerk responses to Michael’s episodes that Marlena didn’t see any choice but to step in as the voice of reason. “Mom, please. I’ll be there soon.”
When she ended the call, she met Olivia’s worried gaze. “We’re going to have to skip brunch today. I’ve got to get to Rochester. I’m sorry.”
Olivia waved off her apology. “I’m the one who’s sorr
y this is happening again. It’s been a couple years since the last time, hasn’t it?”
Marlena slipped her phone in her purse and took a last look around the apartment. “Yeah. He’s been good about taking his medication, and the group home he’s at seemed to be a perfect fit. I haven’t seen him since Christmas, but he seemed happy then. I mean, as happy as Michael gets, anyway.”
“He’d given up believing the Foreign Legion was after him?”
Marlena’s insides tensed. Michael had been obsessed with the idea for so long that Marlena couldn’t hear the words Foreign Legion without having a visceral reaction. “We’ll see when I get to the hospital. My mom was pretty distressed so I didn’t get a whole lot of information from her.”
Olivia gathered her in a hug. “Come to my place when you’re done there. Doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, okay? I’ll have ice cream and wine on standby, and Pancho Pete’s is open twenty-four hours a day if you need some spicy food. Promise me you will.”
Affection for her dearest friend had Marlena grinning despite her anxiety. She rested her chin on Olivia’s shoulder. “But tomorrow’s a school day.”
“Eh. Sleep is overrated. I’ll leave a light on for you.”
Marlena smiled at her. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re my person.”
“I’m glad you’re mine,” Olivia said. “Good luck today. I hope it turns out to be nothing.”
It being a Sunday morning, the traffic on Highway 31 was light. After finding a spot in the hospital parking structure, she grabbed her travel yoga bag and purse, then started out over the expansive hospital complex in search of a patch of grass or out-of-the-way courtyard. She needed to find her center and hang on to it so that being with her family didn’t knock her off-balance.
Between the main hospital building and the separate maternity wing she found a narrow breezeway with a tree rising from a square hole that had been cut into the concrete path. Around the trunk’s base were scattered river rocks and moss. She unfurled her yoga mat in a sliver of shade next to the tree and picked up one of the stones.
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