by Sunniva Dee
“I’m your flavor of the moment,” she corrects me. So silly.
“No Arria, every day, all the time. It’s mid-May, and I haven’t as much as kissed another woman. My balls are blue waiting for you and your crumbs.” I travel down her body to cup her butt. Lift her up against the wooden panel behind us. Her sweet belly isn’t in the way yet. I can reach.
“You’re going to do me here?” she asks. I search her eyes. They’re gleaming in the reflection from the rope lights in the patio bar. “In front of all these people? Just sneak your junk into me and hope no one stumbles upon us?”
I blow out a short puff of air. Drop her to the ground. Stroke her cheek with a hand and shake my head. “You drive me crazy, Arria. What’s your deal? You need to stop pushing me away and fucking—marry me!”
That was not planned at all, and fuck me for meaning it. Like I could ever be a good husband. She’s right in not even considering me.
Now, she’s crying. I didn’t see that coming.
“Shit. What, Arria?” It’s so frustrating not to get what’s behind her reactions. “Tell me!”
“Nothing…”
Nothing.
“I can take your anger, you ignoring me when I want you really fucking close, but your ‘nothing’ drives me up the wall. What!”
“I love you.”
And she didn’t just say that. She’s mumbling, so it could be anything. My brain rummages for other possibilities. “Excuse me?” I prod, finally.
Arriane’s voice is tiny when she continues. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Leon. Perhaps this is what you need to hear to get your bearings. I know you hate to lose—that you fight dirty to get what you want, but you can already consider me a win. At least you have my heart.”
A patio lamp swings in the light breeze, igniting the violet hue of her eyes for an instant. They’re chock-full of pain.
“You put so much pressure on me, Leon, tempting me. Every day, you’re there, doing stuff for me. Being close. Watching me. Guarding me. You don’t understand. I’m trying to be smart here.”
“You love me?” Something lifts right beneath my ribs. It frees up air, making it easier to breathe. “Last I checked, if you love someone, you’re supposed to want to be with them.”
“I can’t,” she whispers, being illogical, difficult, fucking frustrating. I rake a hand through my hair, and I’m back to growling. She’s so good at this. Stopping everything for the damn hell of it.
“So let me get this straight. You think you’re in love with me. I’m the father of your child. And you refuse to be in a relationship with me. That sum it up?” Lust and anger stir in me, making it difficult to stay rational. If anyone can, though, it’s me, I tell myself.
For two seconds.
Before I slam my hands into the wall beside her head, the way I did the first night with her in my apartment. This time, my despair is different. This time she’s not scared.
“Give us a try. Please.” Is that my voice? It cracks. “You don’t have to marry me—just be my girlfriend. If I mess up, I won’t stop you from leaving, baby.”
The phone rings in my pocket.
“Sweetie… is that Kat’s ringtone?” Arriane whispers before I can think straight. I don’t answer. Just stare at her, controlling my breathing. She’s so close. So far away.
“Pick up, sweetie. Katsu doesn’t call for the heck of it.”
Somehow my head sinks down on her shoulder below me. Her hands curve around my back, and I let myself enjoy her touch even if it’s just to pull the phone out. For an instant, her face buries in against my neck while she clicks the cell on and sets it to my other ear.
“Shishi,” Kat sighs.
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“It’s the sperm donor. Hauled off to the hospital again. The mistress or whatever living with him called.”
“Sucks to be him,” I say, holding the phone myself and straightening. I stare at Arriane, unseeing as I listen.
“He started drinking as soon as he got home, the mistress said. He refused to heed doctor’s orders and stop altogether. This time, it’s his liver, they think. It’s like his body’s falling apart, Leon, and now he’s on a twenty-four-hour watch, and—”
“Kat! Kat, Kat—I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t give a shit, all right? Fuck him.”
“But what if he dies? He could croak at any moment, Shishi, who knows? What would you do then? You don’t deserve that he—”
“Shut. Up! I’m not staying on the phone for this bullshit. Kat, I’m sorry. The club needs me—gotta go.”
“Leon, wait. Don’t hang up!” She’s shouting at me, her voice shrill. Arriane reaches out, running a hand down my arm, but I elbow it away. She backs off. Crosses her arms above her belly.
“What? Anything else? How’s Mom?” I bark to Kat.
“Mom and John are fine. I’m booking a flight, Leon. I’m gonna talk with my manager and ask to work from Deepsilver for a while. Can I live with you until I find a place?”
“Sis. Ah.” I breathe through my nostrils, slowly easing air in and out, calming myself. “Of course. Stay as long as you want.”
She’s not finished. “Please, until I come, Shishi. Can you go see him? I’m trying to figure out the logistics—I haven’t even mentioned this to my boss yet, so I might take a few days to get to you.”
And that’s when I finally lose it and roar at my sister.
Leon’s head rises from his phone, moonlit eyes blazing at me. “Arriane, I’m taking off. Stay put.”
“Where are you going? To the hospital?”
“Fuck no.” He puffs out an almost-laugh under his breath before he swings and walks off.
His back moves between the patrons with purposeful ease, and I try to keep up. I fall behind, though, and he’s not turning to check if I’m following him. By the time I’m back inside, he has handed the storage room key to Christian, who nods once as Leon heads for the front door.
At the club entrance, Jason stops me. “Arria, sorry—the boss man told me not to let you follow him.”
“Really, Jason? His father is in the hospital again. Did you notice his state of mind? Any similarities to New Year’s Eve?”
Jason blinks, trying to take in what I’m insinuating. I should have told him straight out. Uncomfortable, he shrugs thick shoulders. “It’s strict orders, though. The boss pays me well to do my job, Arria.”
Two intoxicated girls giggle their way past us, clearly on the lookout for a bathroom. Part of my flower décor for tonight’s spring celebration is wrapped around their heads like wreaths. I automatically point inward, directing them to the ladies’ room. The two laugh harder and lean on each other as one of them bounces on her feet with the urge to pee.
“Jason, did he say where to? Was he taking the truck or the motorcycle?”
“The motorcycle. He took his helmet.” Jason motions to the empty shelf in his booth, where Leon’s helmet sat earlier tonight.
Leon’s stress, the tension—it’s what he experienced on New Year’s Eve before breaking down. Where is he going at this hour? Not to Pandora’s, for sure. I curse myself for thinking about her, but it was my biggest fear on New Year’s Eve. I was afraid he’d hunt them down and beat Dominic senseless. Leon hasn’t mentioned her in ages, though. She was a fluke, and according to Christian, Dominic and she are still a couple.
“Could he be at Shisha Gardens?” I say to myself, not expecting Jason to chime in.
“The Japanese restaurant up in the hills?” Jason frowns, not understanding.
“Yeah, it’s his family’s. You didn’t know?” I ask without really asking. “His uncle runs the place. Leon spent a ton of time there as a kid.”
“That place rocks. It’s like a big old, uh… red palace,” Jason offers.
Ingela screams from the main room. “Arriane! We need you! People are thirsty, and stuff’s out of control!” My heart speeds up as I trot back to the bar.
Christian gives me a
quick hug as I pass him. “Congratulations,” he says at my ear, and I swallow. Our secret is out, and Leon’s gone rogue. I’m so worried. We’re not together. A good thing, I tell myself.
“Thanks.”
“I knew you were knocked up!” Cameron bellows, a huge grin on his gorgeous baby-face.
“You so had no idea!” Ingela roars back to him. Cameron tackles me into a hug reminiscent of a fireman’s lift.
“Did too, Inga. Ha, there’s so much of you, Boss Lady,” he laughs out, trying to keep me in the air without squeezing my tummy too hard.
This—is overboard for me right now. My brain is already about to explode.
“Thanks,” I repeat myself, wrestling free and starting my work. I pop the cap off a Miller Lite for one of the spring décor girls. She must have given up on the bathroom line, opting for more liquid instead. Not the brightest bulb.
I could call Shisha Gardens. No, they would ask questions, maybe be concerned about him. I glance over at Shannon. She’s Pandora’s best friend and lives with her. At least I can eliminate one worry. I crook a finger at Shannon, and she comes over to my part of the counter. Leaning over, I cup my hand to her ear.
“Leon’s in a mood, and I… just wanted to make sure he’s not causing trouble for Pandora.”
Shannon frowns, studying my expression. Her thoughts roll over her face like the short version of a silent movie: Really? The girl’s pregnant with her boyfriend’s baby, and she’s afraid he’s heading to his ex’s half a year after their breakup?
I scrunch my eyes shut, unable to watch anymore. “It’s not likely—his troubles have nothing to do with Pandora—but Leon’s so guarded. When he snaps, he really snaps. I—I’d hate for him to be on his way to her place.”
I meet Shannon’s stare. Her eyes are a soft brown, similar to Katsu’s. She nods and types out a text on her phone, to her friend probably. Pandora was a full-on party girl and used to be a regular at Smother. Now, we haven’t seen her since the blowout on New Year’s Eve. Apparently she’s not even drinking anymore.
My heart doesn’t slow down tonight. Desperate for Leon to be safe, it’s drumming, drumming in my chest. On autopilot, I hand out reds, whites, and beer. I mix a Blue Bay and a Bitter Hitter for some unexpected Curacao lovers, while Shannon’s tense face is focused on her screen, typing back and forth with Pandora.
She finally lifts her gaze, giving me a small smile. I lift a finger to a younger, drunk replica of Jason, giving him the “one moment” sign before I lean into Shannon.
“Pandora’s got some stuff going on with her dad. Sorry. But yeah, if Leon’s there, she’s not. She’s at Dominic’s. Sleeps better at his house.” She gives a fond smile. “And don’t worry, Dominic would never let her get in harm’s way. The boy is… smitten.” She laughs, and I smell a private joke.
“Smitten,” I say, smiling too.
“Uh-huh. Smmmitten.” She blinks through her exaggerated popping of the “t.” I shake my head, thinking that if it weren’t for Pandora’s tornado affair with Leon, Shannon and I might have been friends. As it is, neither of us would consider it. Too much history.
The next two hours I spend working my butt off and checking my phone for a reply to my text to Leon. Every now and then, I call him. Knowing he won’t pick up, I don’t leave my post behind the counter while I do.
My lower back is beginning to bug me, making me feel weak. I’m young and only halfway to the finish line with my baby. I’m going to put on so much more weight than this—really, I can’t let it hamper me already.
My heart rate… it’s exhausting. Is Leon even safe? What’s taking him so long? Did he go to Iris’ house or one of his other exes’ since I wasn’t giving him any love? I take a break to scour the barstools in front of me, the packed dance floor, and the room beyond. Robin’s gaze finds me from the DJ booth. He winks and flashes a big grin. Below him, I look for the skinny little fan-girl, Marla, the chick Leon hasn’t acknowledged in months. I can’t see her tonight.
Come on, she’s here every night.
Where is she?
She’s not here!
I’m losing my cool. Ingela sees me press a palm against my heart, trying to soothe the damn thing. “Arria, you look horrible!” she hollers out. “What’s going on? Where’s Leon?”
I can’t answer right now. I’m—not okay.
We’re only an hour from closing. Such a short time to keep it together, and yet…
Inga’s concerned face blurs a little. Christian jumps off his stool by the cash register and catches me lightning fast before I thud to the floor. “What the hell? Cameron, call Leon. Arriane’s—”
“Does she have the key to upstairs?”
“Yes, check her purse—” Their voices fade in and out.
Until they fade away completely.
Violent sex.
The Bag Room.
Neither is within reach at the club with Arriane so close. I’m not playing rough with her anymore. She’s got the key to my apartment, and I don’t trust her to stay away while I go on a rampage in there.
I could head to Iris’ house. Marla’s, or even, whatshername’s… Lauren’s. But they’re not worthy opponents—which is what this would be. The sex would be a small part of my outlet, the fight and the fucking conquering the main event.
My bike’s the only remaining catalyst for my tension. I lean over the handlebars, tightening around her struggling body. She snarls up the bumpy road beyond Shisha Gardens, toward the summit. I force her past the blockage and onto the gravelly dirt. The moon and the stars hide behind clouds, leaving me in darkness with my chaos.
The last five hundred yards offer no path, but I keep going, my bike rearing and sliding full speed across the uneven terrain. The rush in my chest is what I need, what harmonizes with the crescendo in my brain, insisting I step on the fucking brakes and consider my sister’s plea.
“Please, go see him.”
Why the hell should I? The only valid reason I’ve ever acknowledged would be to torture him like he tortured us. I remind myself that the philosophy behind my karate grounded me. Until now, it’s left my mind quiet and my body controlled. Thanks to my dojo, I don’t follow Father’s lead.
Katsu loves to talk head-trip mumbo-jumbo. While she was here, she coughed up PSYC 101 stuff on a daily basis, mixing in some serious lines on karma, which gets to me since our mother was always outspoken about karma.
“Please, Shishi. I’m not saying you should visit the hospital for him. Go for you,” Kat said.
But I’m over him.
I barely muster the willpower to be careful when I lay the bike down. I sprint the last twenty yards to the top of the summit and pick up a rock from the mound created by former visitors. Hurl it down the hillside as hard as I can. I swipe up another, then another. Shoot them off in quick succession, the echo as they hit the granite wall feeding my energy. Soon, I’m grabbing blindly, firing stones off into the night like bullets. I don’t stop until the roar in my throat is exhausted.
I finally sense the buzz of a phone call in my pocket. I cover my face, rubbing. Clearing my mind. Why don’t they leave me alone?
It’s Christian.
I don’t leave the club during business hours except for my trips to Choice in Talco. Christian wouldn’t contact me unless there’s an emergency.
My hands shake from the physical exertion as I pull out the cell. Scrubbed-raw fingers—my fingers—come into focus, boasting cuts from the uneven rocks.
My screen is filled with unanswered calls from Arriane, one from Ingela, and the rest from Christian.
FUCK!
I run to the motorcycle as I call Christian back. He picks up on the first ring.
“Leon.”
“Everything all right?”
“Arriane’s in the hospital. Not sure what happened, but she collapsed in the bar. Ingela’s with her, and her mother’s on her way from Talco, but—yeah. It was scary, man.”
“Which hospital?” I
bark out. “How long ago?”
“The ambulance picked her up fifteen minutes ago. She’s at Parkwood. Ingela just called, saying the paramedics are doing their thing, but that’s all I know.”
“I’m on my way.”
I shove my helmet on and start the engine. Boom down the windy road at a speed I’d be thrown in jail for. The gods are with me. Every muscle tense, I’m back in Deepsilver and turning my beast’s nose westward, to Parkwood Hospital.
I wash up in the ER’s men’s room, get rid of the helmet, and rake my fingers through my hair. Prepare myself for a fight. Lower my scuffed-up hands into my pockets before I approach the receptionist.
She’s young, sharp. With her hair in a tight ponytail, her chin tips up, exuding efficiency as her gaze meets mine. Her nametag reads “Sarah.” The girl is welcoming, but I sense stubbornness beneath the surface. She’s eager to do her job correctly.
I inhale, worrying that she’ll cut me off and send me packing. Widened pupils tell me she responds to me on a female level. She likes what she sees, which usually helps. I’m not beyond using my looks.
“Sarah?” I ask. She bobs her head affirmatively.
“Hi. I was away when my pregnant girlfriend fell ill. I got here as fast as I could.”
I’ve spent a lifetime shielding my emotions, but in this instant, I need to expose them. It could be the difference between a “yes” and a “no.” I lift my eyes to the girl and force my terror for Arriane and the baby out in the open.
For a moment, her expression displays a raw sort of empathy. “What is her name?” she asks, and I breathe out, relieved.
Ingela stands from the only visitor’s chair when I enter Arriane’s room. She doesn’t drop Arriane’s hand. Behind her, Arriane sits on the examination bench, face pale. I scour her features quickly. Despite the distress in her eyes, she smiles at me.
“Thanks, Ingela. I’ll take it from here,” I tell my employee, but she’s not listening to me. Surprised, I watch her check with Arriane for confirmation. Thankfully, Arriane agrees with my assessment.
She draws Ingela’s hand to her cheek, giving it a hug. “Thank you for coming with me. I really appreciate it, especially since my mom is so far away.”