by Daya Daniels
I focus my gaze out the window ahead at the view. The sun is up and the city is bright. Sprawling mansions litter the hills. They’re all occupied by people who have more money than the national average, of course. Movie stars, singers, star athletes—those sorts of people.
“Is Audrey ready?” Stanton asks me.
“I think she might be, Dad.”
He gives me a nod and steps around the side of his desk, shoving things into a duffel bag. “Is the helo ready?”
“Yes, it’s waiting,” I confirm.
“Please tell Audrey that we need to be on our way,” Stanton tells Ben.
For a lawyer, Ben’s job description is wide, varied, and full of a lot of bullshit. It sometimes extends to personal assistant, coffee fetcher, travel agent, and butler. I only shake my head at the way Ben jumps around for my father like a frickin’ pogo stick on crack.
“Liv,” Stanton says dropping his head. “I don’t know when your mother and I’ll be back but you can call us if you need to.”
“Yeah, Dad, I know,” I mumble.
“Bye, Liv,” Ben says, giving me a nervous smile.
I lift my hand and wave at the two men, right before they head out. Letting out a sigh, I stand and make my way back to my bedroom.
Once inside, I scramble around. I throw on a thin dress, some boots, a shawl sweater over the top and put a beanie on. It’s my hip, grunge style. I face the mirror and grimace. I look like I’m wearing pajamas. I shrug considering it’s my special day, so I decide I don’t give a shit.
CHAPTER TWO
Zane
“Zane Presley,” Tom Stanton calls out with a smile as he steps towards me.
I give him a firm handshake and look him in the eye through my tequila vision. His eyes glide over my appearance, then stop on the bouquet of red roses in my hand.
“I’m just here to pick up Liv.”
I expect resistance. Questioning. Warnings. Maybe even a flat out “No!” I don’t know. I guess I expect Stanton to say something about me taking out his only child but instead, there’s nothing. A woman hooks her arm in his and gives me a nod. The smile on her face looks like it’s permanently been stitched there by a plastic surgeon. She’s pretty from a distance but up close, she’s cold, frozen, mannequin-like.
“To pick Liv up?” Stanton questions in a high-pitched voice, jerking his head back.
He peers around the side of me and spots the limousine that idles just at the roundabout in their driveway.
“Honey, this is Zane Presley. We’ve just signed his band The Vigilantes to an impressive deal,” Stanton says slapping me on the back. “You must be flying out tonight then.”
“Tomorrow actually, but yeah, I am.” I nod.
“So, what’s the occasion again?” Stanton asks, touching one of the roses.
I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s Liv’s birthday,” I say firmly, wondering if maybe I’m the one who has it all wrong.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” he babbles on, making a confused face at the woman that stands next to him.
She straightens and heads over to an old woman that lingers near the doorway. “Please arrange something nice for Liv’s birthday today, Olga.”
The woman only nods at the request.
“Audrey,” the plastic woman says introducing herself when she returns to where we stand.
“Zane Presley,” I say giving her a tight smile.
“We have to go, Stanton,” an older man sings out.
“Well, okay then. Zane, it’s nice to see you,” Stanton rambles on. “You and Liv enjoy your birthday—her birthday...I mean. Yeah, tell her we said happy birthday,” he mumbles with a laugh. “Of course, you can let me know the cost of whatever you treat her to today and I’ll reimburse you for it.”
I shake my head slowly at him. “It’s on me.”
“Okay, okay. Well, no problem then,” Stanton says shooting out the door.
“It was nice to meet you,” the woman says again, struggling to shimmy across the marble tile in her five-inch Christian Louboutin heels.
I give them both a wave.
What the fuck is wrong with these people!
Liv
“Thank you, Olga,” I say looking over the small locket before pressing a kiss to the old woman’s cheek. “It’s pretty.”
“It’s from your par—”
“Please,” I whisper, meeting her grey eyes. “Don’t cover for them. I know you bought this for me. Thank you,” I say, tipping my head forward.
Olga grimaces and shifts the apron around her waist. She brushes a hand over my hair and gives me a smile.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, tucking the gift into my pocket.
Olga had worked here for the past fifteen years. She was older than the furniture but she was the life of this house. She ensured that everything ran smoothly and she also took care of me sometimes. I loved her like one would love their own grandmother.
“There’s a young man out in the foyer looking for you. He’s drunk,” she rattles out, then mutters words in Ukrainian that I don’t understand.
“Oh,” I whisper, take a few steps closer to the door.
I rush through the wide hallways, listening to my own breaths. When I reach the foyer, I stop and take in Zane’s tall frame. He stands straight and runs a hand through his hair. His back is turned towards me. He’s wearing the black leather jacket he always has on. My gaze lingers down to his hands. His fingers are bare of jewelry today—not even a watch decorates his wrist. I suck in a breath of air when I look at his profile—tall, hunky, and effortlessly cool. He runs a hand through his dark wavy hair and spins around, allowing me to see the bouquet of roses in his hand.
“Liv,” he says, leaning back and then forward again as if it’s the first time he’s met me.
I try to contain my giddy smile but fail miserably. “You came,” I say stepping closer.
I look up into his grey eyes. They’re glassy and a little red around the edges but they’re still amazing. He hasn’t shaved, so his jawline is covered in scruff. He only looks sexier. He leans down to place a kiss on my cheek and heat rises up through my body. His lips are soft. The mixture of the two sensations confuses my skin but it’s still nice. Zane peers down at me and then gives me a blinding smile that surges straight to the spot between my legs. He’s just as handsome as I remember, probably even more so now that my mood is better. He throws his arm over my shoulder and kisses my forehead.
Olga stands a few feet away watching us, with her face smashed into some sort of expression which tells me she isn’t happy.
“Ah, ma’am. Do you think you could throw these in some water for Liv?” Zane asks her.
“Zvychayno. Of course,” she says, snatching the flowers out of Zane’s hand with a force that nearly shreds the friggin’ plastic wrapped around them.
“Yikes. I think I might be in trouble,” he jokes as we watch her walk away.
I focus back on the hold Zane has on me, that nearly crushes me. I breathe in his T-shirt, which is soft and freshly laundered. He smells like some sort of woodsy body wash. His breath, when he speaks, is a mixture of mint and alcohol that I hoped he didn’t just consume, but I knew he probably had. Everything about this guy confuses me but fascinates me all the same.
“Happy birthday, Liv,” he says, placing another kiss on my forehead.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
I admire Zane. I don’t know if he’s carefree or just doesn’t care? When he hugs me again, the hem of his T-shirt edges up, revealing the waistband of the black BOSS underwear he’s wearing. A line of sparse black hair runs down the abs of his stomach and then disappears into his dark jeans. This man is effortlessly sexy. I swore if he just rolled out of bed, he would look humpable.
I sigh and look around. Olga returns and is watching us with her arms folded, scowl etched permanently on her face. I think she’s trying to set Zane on fire with her old lady molten glare.
“You didn’t drive here, did
you?” I ask Zane.
“Of course not,” he whispers. “I rarely drive. Besides, I prefer to walk everywhere.” He laughs. “You should know that.”
“Okay.”
Zane dips down, putting his face an inch from mine. “I want to take you somewhere.”
“No!” Olga blurts out when she steps forward. She backs away again and drops her head, when she realizes her blunder.
I scoff and ignore her, lifting my eyes back to Zane’s grey ones. His smile is half-hearted when he looks at Olga, but it’s still there.
“Okay,” I singsong with a giggle. “Where?”
Liv
It’s late afternoon.
I breathe in the damp air, shut my eyes and open them. There’s a lingering fog that sits low. I try to touch it but of course, I can’t. I can hear the hoot of owls in the distance, the chirp of crickets and the grating sound of the crows around. It smells earthy and the scent of raw dirt and wood fills my nostrils. It’s unquestionably wild here.
We stand at the edge of Redwood National State Park after taking a Bombardier, then a helicopter here. Zane slept most of the way, so I spent the better part of that time just staring at him. He was a sound sleeper. He didn’t snore or shift around. He just slept. In between that, I gazed out the window, watching California and the Pacific Ocean whiz by, which were even more breathtaking from the sky.
“Are there animals around here?”
Zane only shrugs and looks out into the distance. I have a perfect profile of his face. He looks messy and his black hair is unruly. When he jerks back to meet my eyes again, he gives me a radiant smile. “There isn’t anything out there that could take me.”
I laugh. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, baby girl. You shouldn’t worry.”
I crane my neck up to look at the one-hundred-foot redwood trees that surround us. There’s so much life here but it’s eerily quiet, peaceful. I inhale loudly and breathe out the crisp northern California air. I drop my gaze and meet Zane’s eyes. “It’s beautiful. Have you been here before?”
He taps a cigarette out of the box in his hands. “Yeah, all the time,” he murmurs, putting it to his lips. “I come here all the time. I love it. You’ve never been?”
“No,” I breathe out, pulling my hat on tighter.
“That’s crazy, considering you’re from right here in California.” He laughs.
He takes a draw of the cigarette, then reaches a hand out to me. He nudges his chin towards the forest of trees. “We can walk around,” he says, patting the backpack that hangs from one of his shoulders. “I have water, snacks and shit.”
I nod, unable to stop grinning. “Snacks and shit.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go. I told Stanton you’d be gone for a few hours.”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt they care,” I mumble to myself. “You don’t have to do that you know, get permission. They don’t care. They’re gone for the week anyways.”
Zane stands and gives me a strange look. “So, what do you do when they’re gone?”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know, whatever I want really.”
“Ah.” He nods.
I spot a squirrel at the base of one of the trees that’s as wide as the front of a big mac truck. This place is incredible.
Zane follows my eyeline. “If you think this one is amazing. I can show you a bigger one.”
I arch a brow in his direction. Zane tosses an arm up and gives me an encouraging wave to follow him. When he takes my hand again we set off down a path.
“I know we’ve just kind of met but I have a bit of an obsession with trees.”
I kick some rocks at my feet and look ahead. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah, always have. I don’t give a shit if people think it’s weird.
“The tree is significant if you think about it. It’s simple. All it needs is water, sunlight, to be left the fuck alone and it flourishes. It helps everything around it to survive. The very existence of it just interests me, always has. It’s how I see myself.”
“I don’t understand.”
Zane chuckles. “Well, people are always trying to control me, change me, force me to do things I simply don’t want to. When that happens, I start to die I think. But,” he says raising a thick finger in the fog. “If I get what I need, I thrive and in turn everyone and everything around me does the same.”
“And if that doesn’t happen?”
He stops his stride and looks out into the expanse of trees and greenery ahead. “Well, when people try to ruin me they usually ruin themselves too, in the process.” He laughs. “I just want simple things, ya’ know.”
“That’s a unique way to look at things.”
“It is the way to look at things, Liv.”
Zane makes a face and presses his cigarette out in the palm of his other hand. I give him a stunned look, more concerned about the burn to his hand than the action.
He laughs. Then he shoves the finished bud in the pocket of his jeans. “I don’t litter.”
“That’s good.”
“Litterers should be shot,” he mumbles.
I let out a soft chuckle, nearly blinded by the burnt orange color of all the gargantuan trees around us. He yanks me by the hand and we disappear further into the forest.
Zane
We take a seat on a large tree trunk of one of the redwoods that had recently fallen. Running my fingers through Liv’s hair, I brush the long strands away from her face. I take in the size of her boots next to mine as we hang off the side. She’s so small. I open the backpack and pull out some fruit salad, crackers, cheese, and two bottles of water. I place everything slightly behind us. Liv gives me an odd look and chuckles.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What is it?” I ask, nudging her in the shoulder with mine.
“There’s starfruit in there.”
I smile, open the small package of crackers and pull a plastic knife out of the bag. “Yes, it is, smarty pants.”
“Starfruit doesn’t just float around. You have to order it, like specialty from Indonesia or somewhere.”
“So, maybe I did.”
Liv makes a small grunt, when I put the container in front of her. She dips her finger in and takes a few pieces. “It’s good, really good.”
“Good.”
We eat in silence for a little, while Liv kicks her feet against the side of the trunk. The sound of the birds and the sight of all the greenery around me, reminds me of how pure and authentic this place is, like the woman sitting next to me.
Liv’s face is bare. She doesn’t wear makeup. She doesn’t have to. She’s naturally perfect. She looks far different than the women I’m used to and that, frankly, I’m sick of.
“Where are you from?” she asks me, right before taking a gulp of water.
“Nashville, Tennessee,” I say in a deep Southern drawl.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I laugh.
“You don’t have an accent.”
“It’s a long story behind that.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Um, Dexter—the bassist in the band—is my brother, my foster brother that is.”
Liv’s face scrunches up and then she quickly relaxes it. “You’re, ad-adopted?”
“Nope, not really.” I laugh.
“Oh.”
“I was put up for adoption but I was never adopted, kind of thing. Dexter and I grew up in the same group home.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, baby girl. I don’t like pity. I’ve done alright if you ask me.”
“Do you know who they are, your parents?”
“Nope and don’t want to know. What’s the point of chasing someone that doesn’t want you?”
Liv shrugs. “I do it all the time,” she whispers in a way that hurts me for her.
“You shouldn’t.”
She brushes her hair over one should
er and then blinks slowly, staring at my boots.
“You fucking shouldn’t, Liv. You’ll know when you’re not a priority to someone. People that love you are there for you. They never leave you, even when shit gets real.
“They care when you’re hurting. They don’t forget your fucking birthday. Goddamn,” I breathe out.
She nods but I don’t really think she gets what I’m saying. So, I let it go.
“Anyways, I moved back to Nashville, Tennessee when I was ten but I was born there. In between that time, I lived in Detroit, Michigan, and a few other places.”
“You don’t mind not having family?”
I smile. “I have my music. I have Dexter. I have all the family I need.”
“I see.”
I look over Liv’s face and I’m tempted to kiss her but I won’t. I don’t want to move fast with this girl. I’m still confused about what it is I want myself. I have no clue what I’m doing here, other than the fact I want to spend time with her. I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to touch her. I do, just not yet.
“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s beautiful,” Liv whispers.
“Yeah, yeah, no problem. I usually come here alone. I don’t bring anyone here.”
She gives me a long look, while she puts some cheese on a cracker. My phone goes off with a text message from Dexter. I growl, pull it out of my pocket and hit the faceplate. “V meeting—where the F are you???” I laugh and put the phone out of sight. V was code for Vigilantes. They were having a band meeting. I told Yandi to take care of this. When they don’t get a response from me, automatically they will know to contact her.
“Do they always forget your birthday?”
Liv’s sapphire eyes meet mine. She doesn’t look away. I hold her gaze and pass her a piece of Camembert cheese.
“Yes, always.”
I only nod but I don’t press. It’s quiet for a while between us, while only the hoots of an owl close by fill the comfortable silence.
“Are you still drunk?” she asks shyly.
“No.” I snort a laugh. “I’ve sobered up a lot since this morning.”
