Doves for Sale

by Lila Felix

  “Yes. He’ll show.”

  “You want me to wait?”

  “You don’t have to. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll pick my stuff up tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good. Thank you.”

  She does that European kissing thing that I hate, but allow only my sister to be the recipient of such a thing.

  “I’m gone. Let me take a picture first.” She has one of those selfie sticks and I try not to look completely offended by it while she takes our picture.

  “Bye. Thanks again.”

  I pace the apartment, my nervous energy too much to handle. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve picked up the mess and even did the dishes all dressed up and walking around in heels that would kill small children.

  He’s late.

  Ezra is never late.

  I look at my phone a million times to make sure I haven’t missed some text in my neurotic pacing regimen.

  Nothing.

  A knock at the door, if possible, makes me even more nervous.

  Until I open it to see him on the other side, the subject of all my wishes, right there. He’s gotten a haircut, but left the beard, though it looks clipped as well.

  Pinstripes look good on him.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. You’re never late.”

  “I had to get you these. I forgot and had to double back.” He holds up a batch of red roses. It has to be more than a dozen.

  “You didn’t have to. I still have the ones from last night.”

  He takes them back. “This is what I do when I act like a jerk. I would’ve stopped for ice cream, but I was already late. Still a Phish Food girl?”

  “Not in this dress. If I eat, the whole thing will bust somewhere.”

  His eyes roam over me. I feel his gaze as it skitters over each inch, inches that before, I would’ve hidden or covered. Quelling a grin, he turns his finger around in the air. When I don’t immediately respond, he does it more dramatically, cocking an eyebrow, silently demanding my obedience.

  I fold to his whim.

  And twirl.

  For him.

  Only for him.

  He stands, solemn and staring for a few minutes. I finally speak up, but as soon as I open my mouth, he’s grinding his jaw, chewing on his emotions again.

  “I can’t believe you’re mine again.”

  “Who said I forgive you?” I push my hip out.

  He covers a chuckle with his mouth. “That hip just told me everything I need to know. You know how sorry I am, right? I’ll get there one day. I swear it.”

  “I know. We are past that point, Ezra. I can read all of your secrets—even the apologies.”

  “Good. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yep. Let me grab my purse.”

  I am thinking that it will be a while before I can get Ezra out of his funk, but once again, he surprises me. When I turn around, he’s back to normal, if normal if staring at me like I’m his last supper.

  It takes us almost fifteen minutes to find a parking spot, even though we are early. The place is packed. The city hired a party planner and whoever she is has strung the Cypress trees with twinkly lights. They look like glowing spider webs around the usual darkness of the college.

  “Doesn’t look so scary like this.” Ezra remarks.

  “It’s like one of those southern gothic romances, eerie and beautiful at the same time.”

  I make my way through the house. I find Aunt Hope near the library.

  “Someone scuffed my floors already. Decades of perfected finish undone by someone’s cheap heels.”

  My aunt is the perfect mix of tough as nails and classy as Elizabeth Taylor.

  “Not everyone can wear Jimmy Choos, Aunt Hope. We have to forgive them. Hopefully they bought cheap shoes in order to donate more to the house.”

  She finishes off her wine and reaches for another from one of the side tables. “I should’ve just given the house to you. Me and my philanthropic dreams just wanted it to be a gift to everyone and now look what’s happening to it. Peg Leg will not be pleased. Oh, forgive my manners. Who is this?”

  Peg Leg answers with a creak to the ceiling. Aunt Hope reaches out to grab my free hand. She was never as fond of Peg Leg as I was. She and I are so focused on discussing the house that we don’t notice Ezra.

  Well, she doesn’t notice Ezra.

  I’m aware of his every breath. It’s tickling the side of my neck. I bat my eyes at the rhythm of it.

  “Aunt Hope, this is Ezra Mason. Ezra, this is Aunt Hope Calhoun. This was her home.”

  “This is the one.” She speaks to me, but looks at Ezra. Her voice carries a lilt of whimsy and I remember why she is her own namesake. “You weren’t kidding, Aysa. He’s a handsome gent.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you. Aysa admires you so much. And thank you. I’ve never been called a handsome gent.”

  Aunt Hope turns to me. “You should auction this one off tonight. He’d bring in enough money to keep us open for years to come.”

  “He is not for sale. He’s mine.”

  “Oh yes. I can see that.”

  Ezra clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I was under the impression the museum was doing well. Just some extra expenses that needed to be covered.”

  Aunt Hope smiles and touches his bicep. Then she winks at me.

  A vixen ‘til the day she dies.

  “Aysa has probably sugar-coated the issue. You see…”

  She is beckoned by the mayor who is very early. “Excuse me, you two. I will see you soon.”

  “Tell me what’s happening.” Ezra grabs ahold of my waist.

  “I can tell you later. Right now, let’s just make sure the rooms are ready.”

  “You’ll tell me before the night is over.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  We go from room to room, straightening knick-knacks and billowing curtains. The old oil lamps have been lit in each room. The last time I was here, I went through the rooms making them look more lived in. I’d pulled the covers back on some of the beds and places pencils and books on the desks, giving them the impression that the women who studied here had simply vanished, leaving the place looking pristine.

  “I’m gonna miss this place.” I whisper, opening one of the wardrobe’s a little.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  I don’t want to get upset in front of Ezra and I am doing my best to keep up my hopes for millions of dollars to roll through the door.

  “Ready to join the party?” I ask him as we walked, hand in hand through the hallway.

  “In a minute.” He pulls me into the library by the hand and I squeal a little. I can hear the music from the orchestra in the sitting room as he presses me against the wall, the only wall in the room with no books.

  I bet Peg Leg doesn’t appreciate us about to making out in his former office.

  Because I know that’s what Ezra’s planning.

  I don’t give a damn.

  “How long have you been waiting for this?” He asks me. I should’ve asked him the same question, but someone has stolen my breath.

  “Huh?”

  He rocks his hips into mine and raises my hands above my head. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you here since the first time you brought me here. You were wearing my sweatshirt. Your hair was always in your face. You blushed and all I wanted to do was make you blush forever.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  He answers me without words as his mouth comes crashing down on mine. I feel the impact of his want and his love down to my toes as I push up on them, desperate to get closer. He grabs the backs of my thighs and presses us tighter together. I can feel our chests rise and fall together, breathing the same air.

  “I love you Aysa. I don’t want a life without you in it.”

  I can’t answer. His mouth is now on my neck and if I thought I was done when he kisse
d me, I was climbing to the edge with the heat of his breath on my neck. He finally lets go of my hands and I delve them into his hair. His tongue brazes against mine and makes things inside me pull taut with need.

  I miss the feel of his hair through my hands.

  A groan against my mouth fuels me on.

  I reach for his hips and pull them to me.

  That’s when he jerks away.

  “Aysa, sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me.”

  I cover my face with my hands, not hiding.

  “You pulled me in here.”

  “Come on, let’s get back to the party before—well, before I do something—you know what I mean.”

  God, do I ever know what he means.

  “Do I look like…”

  Do I look like I just made out with the hottest man alive in the library?

  “You look beautiful. I didn’t muss you.”

  “Muss.”

  “Muss. It’s a word. Trust me. English Lit.”

  “Okay, let’s get back.”

  Ezra

  I watch as she works the crowd for the rest of the night. I pull away from her while she’s talking to the mayor and her aunt together, but I overhear everything.

  If they don’t make enough money tonight, from donations and the silent auction, this house is going to be sold at an auction itself.

  I have plenty of money from what Mara’s parents gave me so I bid on all of the vacation packages. I’ll take Aysa on one if I win.

  I look around the place. The people don’t seem half as impressed as I do.

  One woman is standing near the fireplace, using her fingernails to scrap off loose paint.

  There’s a man next to me, with his back facing me, in a circle of people who says to everyone, proudly, that he’s here for the free food and champagne only.

  This place that means the world to Aysa and holds some of her favorite memories is a useless piece of property to the souls in this room. They don’t want to save it.

  Hell, they don’t even care if it burns to the ground as long as they get out with their champagne in hand.

  I’m thinking about heading outside for fresh air when I see Roman come in. He heads my way and orders a drink from the open bar behind me.

  “Hey.” He says. Either he thinks I don’t know about the shit he’s been pulling or he just doesn’t care.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was invited.”

  “Yeah, before you pulled that bullshit at her apartment.”

  He sidles up next to me. From the outside, it probably looks like we are friends having a conversation. The smiles remain plastered to our faces. I don’t punch him in the mouth like I want to.

  I don’t slam his head into the wall like I want to.

  “You can’t blame a man for trying. I mean, look at her.”

  I follow his gaze to see Aysa sizing up the situation. She is worried that we will get into a fight.

  Her worries are well founded.

  “You don’t even know her. She only lets you see the shallow.”

  “Oh and she lets you see the deep?”

  “I see her in a way you never will. You’re beating a dead horse.”

  “You’re calling her a dead horse?”

  “I’m calling you, moving in on the woman who is mine, a dead horse. Look, you’ve always been there for me. I’m gonna tell you the truth that she probably won’t. You don’t have a chance in hell. She sees a brother when she sees you. Give it up while you still have some dignity.”

  “You giving me shit about dignity is rich.”

  “And here I thought Gray had moved away. Apparently, her demon just crawled into you. You’re the friend who doesn’t get that they’re always gonna be the friend.”

  That was low. I’ll admit it. But he needs to hear everything straight up, no bullshitting around.

  And he needs to hear it from me.

  Aysa gives me a shoulder shrug, still worried about what Roman and I are saying.

  I need some new friends.

  Roman ignores my cues and walks over to her and hugs her a little too long, his lips linger on her face a little too much. He’s doing it on purpose.

  Aysa can see right through him.

  Within seconds, she introduces him to a group of girls and he’s turned on that Roman charm. Then she comes over to me.

  “Did he piss you off? You look like you could choke someone.”

  “I don’t get it. He showed no interest when we were dating before. We break up and you two become friends, which I’m grateful for. Then, what? He thinks he can just skip over the part where you’re not interested and propose? It’s weird.”

  “I don’t know. It was like one day he was there just listening and the next he was trying to hold my hand, telling me he loved me. I thought I was blowing it out of proportion. He knew how I felt about you, whether we were together or not.”

  We stand there for a minute in quiet. I don’t understand Roman and I may not ever understand him.

  Maybe I never did.

  Music begins outside. It’s not the orchestra, it’s a DJ. He’s playing a song I’ve never heard.

  “You wanna dance?”

  I don’t wait for her answer. I take her by the hand and pull her outside, slowly. All night I’ve noticed she’s still wobbly in her high heels.

  That’s okay. I’m still wobbly in her love.

  I lead us to the center of the growing crowd, where she deserves to be. She looks up at me. The gleams of light from the lights above us dance along her skin, highlighting every perfection and showing me there is nothing else but perfection.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I shrug. “You love this place. And I love you.”

  “You love this place. And I love you more than that.”

  I chuckle and she shivers.

  “It’s a great party. I’m sure you’re making tons of money.”

  She squints. “You just lied to me. What did you hear?”

  I both hate and love that I can’t lie to her.

  “Nothing. I just didn’t see many bids. But that was in the beginning of the party. Some millionaire probably came and swept them all up with one shot.”

  “They’re gonna auction the place off. If we can’t make enough money, they’re going to sell it to someone who will probably remodel it and replace everything good with everything black leather and mirrors.”

  “Black leather and mirrors?”

  “You know what I mean. Modern crap. No one will love this house half as much as I do.”

  “It will all work out. You’ll see.”

  She hums the lyrics to the next song. “What is this?”

  “The Autumn Tree, by Milo Greene.”

  “We don’t have a song.”

  She pulls back, smiling, and grabs the lapels of my suit jacket to balance herself. “A song? We need a song? I thought we were past all of that goofy stuff.”

  “Goofy? All this time I thought maybe you regretted skipping the beginning things. We never learned how to be silly. We never had awkward hand holding moments. I didn’t try to kiss you and miss. You didn’t giggle at my flirting. We missed all that.”

  “This can be our song. I’ll concede that one. And I had one awkward moment with you in the movies.”

  “When?”

  “The Lord of the Rings marathon. You put your arm around me. I cried.”

  I push her away and yell a little too loudly. “I knew it!”

  “You did not.”

  “I didn’t know that was the reason, but I knew I saw you wipe a tear away.”

  She bites her lip and looks to the ground. “I went to that theatre and sat in that seat.”

  My chest constricts. This is the pain I’d caused her. I can feel it pulse between us, a gentle reminder of who I never wanted to be again.

  “When we were apart?”

  She nods gently.

  “Look at me.” It takes her a moment, but she d
oes. “That’s never going to happen again. I’m here for the long run.”

  Aysa’s aunt interrupts the music and dancing with a spirited announcement, claiming that plenty enough money had been raised that night. There was a less than spirited applause that followed her.

  “So that’s good. It’s saved, right?”

  “Yeah. I hope so. Rent was getting rough.”

  “Got plans tomorrow?”

  She slides her hands onto my waist between my jacket and shirt. “I have an idea.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s do all those things we missed the last time. We need stories to tell.”

  “Stories to tell?” I question in a whisper.

  “Tomorrow morning, you pick me up. I’ll be super nervous and awkward and you can be standoffish and aloof. We’ll take hours just to hold hands and I promise to giggle at your pathetic flirting.”

  “That’s a plan. Good thing I got my paper done today.”

  She pulls herself flush with my body. I chuckle. If we were at a high school prom, we would’ve been tapped on the shoulder for lewd behavior. I feel her hips move with mine, her breasts pressed against my chest. It was enough to make me deliberate dragging her back to the library.

  We dance for hours. I don’t want to let her go. Everyone else has left. The catering people and the party planners are taking things apart.

  “We’d better go.”

  “I’ve got to get my purse.”

  We go inside to the kitchen, where she’d stashed her purse in a cabinet—or so she thinks. “It’s not here. Shit. I always stick my purse in here when I’m doing tours.”

  I help her look, but it’s useless. “Someone must’ve seen you put your purse there before. They knew where to look.”

  “Everything was in there. My debit card. My driver’s license. Everything. Even the keys to my apartment.”

  “We can call your apartment manager and get a spare made. Take my phone and call your bank. Cancel your debit card. We’ll have to wait until Monday to dispute any charges. And we’ll go to the DMV on Monday.”

  “You’re forgetting something, Ezra.”

  “What?”

  “You work on Monday.”

  “I’ll take another day off. It’s not a big deal. I don’t do it often.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Let’s go. Here’s my phone. Call your bank now.”

  I escort her to my truck and she puts the phone down. “What?”