Leon's Way

by Sunniva Dee

  Oh, the sins of the forefathers. The puff I let out sounds like a snicker.

  “You’re laughing?” Kat asks.

  I lean my head against the backrest in her car. Leon would be upset. He forgot to take the pregnancy attachment out of his truck before he left. I’m fine, though. All I do is scoot the upper belt above my belly and the lower one down to my thighs.

  “Yeah. I’m realizing that Leon is allowing his father to influence our relationship while my mother has affected my decisions.”

  “Makes sense.” She shrugs, not as entertained as me. “Although the goal would be to break the cycle. Right?” Kat sends me a quick glance.

  My heart nods, and I speak on its behalf. “Right.”

  A small man lies in the bed. The sheets are white, but the man… he’s yellow. Katsu reads the question in my eyes and mouths “Cirrhosis.”

  I lift my shoulders, unsure of what Cirrhosis is.

  “End stage liver disease. People turn yellow,” she whispers as we enter the room.

  “Father, hey. How are you doing?” Katsu begins conversationally. The words are polite, yet void of her signature compassion.

  Butter-colored lids lift, and I’m amazed to find Leon’s eyes staring back at me. There’s a film coating the blue, though, a dullness hinting at impending death. Beige and wispy, it stretches over white that should accentuate stunning irises.

  “I’m all right.” He smiles weakly. It’s hard to imagine this shriveled human terrorizing his family. The man’s attention flows to my face, then over my stomach. His eyes fill with liquid, and he tries to blink it away. “Is this…?”

  “Yes, Dad. This is Arriane Sarin, Leon’s girlfriend and your grandbaby in there,” Katsu says, her voice softer than before. I walk over and take his hand. It’s dry, the surface leathery. His grip is nothing but a light shiver of muscles against my palm.

  “Thank you for coming, Arriane…” He breathes through the words, summoning strength to keep going. “I am so happy to meet you and… the baby.”

  “She’s here for a reason, Father.” Katsu cuts off the niceties I have on my tongue. I wonder how she can do this with someone who’s dying. I study him; this person can’t possibly be evil. And even if he once was, doesn’t he deserve to die in peace?

  I don’t speak up. New to their relationship, the only history I know are the snippets they’ve told me, and who am I to judge the way they handle this? I go with Katsu’s flow.

  “Of course.” The old man lifts a hand from the covers to dry the water pooling at the corner of an eye. I keep his other hand between mine in an effort to comfort him. “Anything I can do…”

  “Leon is disappearing from us,” Katsu says. It’s brutal and true.

  “Where’s he going?”

  “No, Father. He thinks he won’t pull off having a family because he grew up with a monster.”

  Wow.

  Katsu’s features are set as she studies him. He’s sad, unsurprised by her words. First, he opens his mouth to reply, but then he changes his mind.

  “Mr. Stonewell, I’m not here to disturb you. I simply wanted to meet you since you are Leon’s father,” I say.

  “And you’ve heard so much about me?” His question is a statement.

  I look down. There is no lying. “I guess I’m just… trying to understand.”

  I’m on a weekly motel rent plan in Talco. I work nonstop anyway, and all I need is a place to crash. The first morning, I get to Choice before my manager. Bad sign. I unlock and instantly call a staff meeting. By the time Ralph appears, I’m deep in the accounting, eliminating expensive suppliers and adding more efficient options to my list.

  There’s a fucking hole in my stomach, and breakfast doesn’t fill it. Being far from Deepsilver is a relief, but being away from Arriane is not. I call her at ten—when she usually gets up.

  “Hi,” she breathes into the phone. It’s intimate, full of—

  What I feel.

  “Baby. I…” Want to tell her I miss her. “How are you? Did you sleep?”

  “No.” She chuckles to herself, but she’s blue.

  “Why don’t you sleep, baby? You need to rest,” I murmur.

  I’m doing this for her. Sure, it’s uncomfortable to blow up on a daily basis, but on my own, I can tackle the rage back home in my Bag Room.

  Fuck it.

  “I miss you too, baby. Your sweet, round body. Your boobs.”

  “You miss my boobs?” Her giggle is less sad now. I smile.

  “Yep, you’ve got a stellar rack, and I’d—”

  “Sshhh,” she laughs, lowering into a hum. “Your sister’s up. She’s making coffee right next to me. Decaf,” she adds reassuringly. Then, she shuts us in between her cupped palm and the receiver, causing a hollow sound to the rest of what she’s telling me. “Don’t make me bothered while I’m trying to get ready.”

  “So you don’t want to hear how I’d squeeze and suck on your big, tasty, puffy nipples?” I tease.

  “Leon!”

  “What’s he saying?” Kat asks behind her. I roll my eyes. My nosy sister is two shades from becoming Ingela.

  “Oh, he’s at, um, at Choice working,” Arria guesses.

  “Making up stories?” I say, and she shushes me again. I full-on grin now. “I could be at a gentleman’s club for all you know.”

  “What? Cheaters?” she sputters, suddenly forgetting how close Kat is. The response from behind her is immediate.

  “He’s cheating?” My sister has skills; she can become outraged insanely fast.

  “No, nothing like that, Kat.” My girl pulls away from the phone enough to explain that I’m riling her up about a strip joint.

  “He’s an ass,” is Katsu’s comment. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Hey, I’m hangin’, learning how to be a gentleman. They teach us how to balance a teacup with our pinkies straight to the side. We’re practicing the wiener waltz, and next up is—how to properly hold doors for the ladies while bowing our heads in an elegant way.”

  Arriane is laughing out loud. Ah. I fucking love that sound. I made her forget all her crap. I wish I could always make her this happy.

  The days pass quickly. I’ve never worked harder, not even when I started Smother six years ago on money borrowed from Hank. I’m up at five, running for a full hour, before I head to Choice and continue the process of getting the club on its feet.

  I stay until they close. Ralph shadows my moves, studying the Smother way of doing things like he should have done when we opened. Choice is a year old, and it’s got to prove itself in Talco. The only real competitor is better at marketing, so one of my big pushes this week is to negotiate deals with student organizations and the local newspaper.

  Every morning, I call Arriane. On the second day, I accidentally called her before she got up, which will be my new rule. Fuck, it’s delicious to hear her sleep-coated voice moan from within the covers. She tries to sound like she’s annoyed by me waking her up, but really, she loves it.

  On the fourth morning, I’m dying for her. It’s not difficult during the day while all I concentrate on is work. It’s when I wake up in a sterile motel bed, hard as rock and needing her sweet warmth, that I’m hollow inside. She picks up, drowsy with dreams.

  “Baby?” I say.

  “Leon…”

  “I miss you with me, love. Miss you.”

  I’m calling too early. The nighttime dark isn’t even blue outside yet. My girl sighs, pushing a long, happy exhale out between her lips. “I miss you too.”

  “Fuck, Arria.” I grab my dick, stroking it, and there’s a smile in her voice as she stretches on the other end, groaning.

  “I need you,” I say, stupid with want.

  “You want me to come back?” she asks, messing with me, because she didn’t leave. I did. “Isn’t this a tad early to be awake, sweetie?”

  “Mm-hmm. How’s the baby?”

  “Kicking me. You made me laugh, so now he thinks it’s time for
us to get up.”

  I imagine her taut around me. Remember exactly how she feels. “He’ll be such a terror.”

  “Like his father,” she whispers, and it’s all I can take.

  “Arriane.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Touch yourself.”

  That’s it. I need to see him, and I’m taking the weekend off. I’m not on the schedule anyway—my boyfriend has made sure they’re covered without me every single night. I’m upset and happy about it all at once.

  The afterburn from his call an hour ago throbs in my thighs and where I am the warmest. Leon, he made me climax on the freaking phone! The low growl as he came during my own orgasm still makes my nipples pebble. How can we be so needy after only four days?

  Four freaking long days.

  The skin up my neck tingles with the realization: I’m stuck. We’re not made to be apart. I won’t be able to leave him after the baby is born. I want to run far away—and race to Talco at the speed of light.

  Talco is hours away, though. Leon might not need me anymore once I get there. He was so different on the phone… almost needy—maybe his was a short-lived, impulse craving? My heart runs amok while even my brain insists on my travel plans. I haven’t been home in ages. Yes. If Leon’s mindset has changed, I’ll go to Mom’s.

  Katsu’s already on her computers in the den when I emerge from the shower.

  “Hey, lady,” I call out on my way to the kitchen.

  “Mornin’, you! All good today?”

  “Yep.” My heart double-skips before I continue. “Your brother… he misses me.”

  She looks up, eyes bright. “He does? Well, as he should.”

  “I’m gonna surprise him. Go visit.”

  Her happy expression turns concerned. “Are you sure? Don’t you want to ask first?”

  “No. What, is he going to keep me from heading home? My mother lives there.”

  She closes the biggest laptop she’s been working on and gets up. Grabs her coffee from the table and follows me into the kitchen. “Of course not. Only—since he needs his control so badly right now, I hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.”

  Her input annoys me all of a sudden. I think of how Kat always considers Leon’s wellbeing before mine, even before the baby’s. How the reason why she wants us together is that she thinks I’m good for Leon. I usually understand, because I’d do anything for my own brother. Sometimes, though, she’s too much.

  “What if you break down what you guys are building by being apart?”

  “Why are you so wise, Kat? Are you twenty or seventy?” I ask, because despite her intrusion, I do see her point. She passes me a cup of decaf and pulls out my favorite creamer from the fridge.

  “Nah. I just know my brother and his moods.”

  “Well, I still have to do this for myself. I want to stay the weekend. If he’s not”—I make air quotes—“in the mood, I’ll sleep at my mother’s. She’s off both days.”

  She controls her frown, but it’s there. “I’ll drive you.”

  “Why? Because pregnant women can’t do the car thing?” I shoot her a wink while I stack dandelion leaves on top of a slice of toasted whole grain bread. I can cover up my irritation, but really it’s time she lets this go.

  “I’m pretty sure you can,” she fibs back. “Leon will give Christian and me so much crap, though.”

  “Which I apologize for beforehand.” I crunch down on the green goodness, swallowing a mouthful.

  She smiles, affection in her eyes as they find mine. “Leon’s met his match, huh? You’re not going to be bossed around by him, are you?”

  “Nope. Plus, it’s why he’s in Talco anyway, remember? He’s afraid of his own need for control.”

  My limbs are stiff when I get to Leon’s motel. The place is neglected, shabby—so not him. A low, two-story building with an almost rickety banister snakes around a walkway on the second floor. The red of the exterior has faded and chipped through years of direct sunlight, and ivy suffocates scraggly rosebushes in the flowerbeds.

  I ask the receptionist for Leon’s room number, but he’s not “at liberty to tell me.”

  “I’m his girlfriend, and I’m surprising him,” I explain, which he admits is sweet. Nonetheless, he’s firm about the company policies.

  I pull out my cell and call Leon in front of the man. “Hi, sweetie.”

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, listen—”

  “Baby being a good boy?”

  I smile into the phone. “Yeah, he’s not acting up. Blood pressure under control—all’s good. What room do you live at in Talco?”

  “Two-oh-four. Why?”

  “Just wondering. A bet with Cameron.”

  “Of course, and somehow I’m guessing the backstory is TMI.”

  “Right. I love you,” I say, and it’s such an intimate thing on the phone in front of strangers. Over these days apart, we’ve missed each other. Yesterday morning, he even said he needed me. But “I love you” are words we don’t toss around unless we can’t help the way they slip out.

  He’s silent for a few seconds. Then, he returns the sentiment before we hang up. “I love you too.”

  “Two hundred and four,” I tell the receptionist. “All I want is to leave my suitcase in his room and freshen up. After that, I’ll be surprising him at work.”

  He thinks hard. In the end he lifts a finger in a “one minute” gesture and turns to the wall, talking low into the phone. He grins wide when he spins back to me. “Yes, we can accommodate you, Miss. Take the elevator outside to your right, and follow the numbers to two hundred and four. The maid will let you in.”

  Funny how my heart is about to skip out of my ribcage as I enter Leon’s room. He doesn’t know I’m coming. What if I don’t like what I find in here? What if he really goes to gentleman’s clubs? Brings girls home with him? He could be living a whole, secret life filled with broken-girls in my hometown. God knows he’d have more than enough willing contenders. His gorgeous, hard-bodied self would have no problem tipping most of the female population in Talco onto their backs. The way he did in Deepsilver.

  Damn. I need to stop thinking.

  I nod to the maid and shut the door behind me. Now I’m alone with my fretting heart. The bed has been made. Honestly, I’m not sure if that’s Leon’s or the maid’s doing, because he’s so meticulous. On the night table, there’s a half-empty water glass and nothing more.

  His suitcase is propped up on a stand by the TV. It’s closed. I resist the temptation to open it. Breathing out, I head to the bathroom and grab a towel. Pull in the scent of him by the sink where his toiletries are lined up like soldiers by the mirror: toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass. His cologne. In the shower, there are shampoo and soap only.

  No unfamiliar, feminine scents. No lingerie anywhere.

  I’m so relieved I groan.

  Half an hour later, I’m driving to Choice. I haven’t even called my mother to let her know I’m in town. I will, though, I tell myself. Once I’m done obsessing over meeting up with my boyfriend.

  The baby stretches a languid foot against the steering wheel as I drive. It’s as if he too understands how I’m yearning for his father. The butterflies rustle in my chest since there isn’t room below for them to rummage.

  Outside Choice, I feel stupid. What was I thinking getting here so late? If I’d come earlier, I would have stayed clear of lines. It’s Friday night—of course they’ll be busy! Briefly, I consider letting the bouncer know who I am. Then again, I want to be brave. See Leon’s first reaction when he realizes I’m here. I’m hoping it’s a good one. I’m also hoping I’ll catch his true feelings before he hides them, sweeping them away as fast as always.

  I’m the only overly pregnant lady in this line. I get some side-glances, but that I’m used to from Smother. My baby sleeps well with the music booming around him. It’s what he
knows, and I suspect the bass vibrating through the sounds where he rests are simply nice and familiar to him.

  When it’s my turn, the bouncer looks up and frowns. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, just one, please,” I say. “Is the owner around?” I immediately regret asking. My heart double-bounces at the thought of him not being here. I’m starting to understand something about myself. I’m becoming possessive of this man. I’m… wanting to control him too. Not that I’d ever have a chance. I better get that thought out of my head fast.

  The bouncer, who’s tall and meaty like our guys at Smother, says, “Ma’am?”

  “Leon Stonewell. Is he home?” I joke.

  “Sure, yes…” He’s wondering. Clearly people don’t inquire about Leon much in this town. I’m glad, because in Deepsilver, the ones who ask for Leon are either exes or girls in line to become broken-girls. Not my favorites.

  “Thanks,” I reply, whip out the cover charge, and get my hand stamp.

  I’m about to surprise my love. Against Katsu’s direct recommendations, I’m doing this. And praying that he’s happy to see me.

  Crap.

  Choice has a loyal, informal second-in-charge, and I’m going to use her for what she’s worth. The woman’s good looks and seductive mannerisms is all Ralph has appreciated in her so far, but over the last couple of days, I’ve pointed out her strengths to him.

  “She’s a goddamn redheaded version of Marilyn Monroe,” Ralph tells me. “It’s damn near impossible to work around her!”

  It’s not. The guy’s got to pull it together. He hired Kayla three months ago, and she’s already the most sought-after bartender both by male and female guests. She’s fast, makes clearheaded decisions effortlessly, and the staff comes to her with questions instead of looking for Ralph. The girl’s a natural.

  “Boss,” she hums next to me, never turning off the sex she oozes. I understand Ralph—her mannerisms do make you wonder what kind of firecracker she’d be in bed. Not that I’d test her. I don’t do staff… usually.

  “Tonight’s gonna be a tequila night. The group at the bar? Bachelor party for a football player. I know him—he’s tequila all the way. We might want to check if Adam can work. He’s a big guy with a calming effect on the rowdy ones.”