by Daya Daniels
“I figured maybe you would’ve offered me a Macallan when I came in?”
I laugh meeting his slippery eyes. “Believe it or not, I’m all out of scotch.”
I lie.
Ari checks his Rolex. “Well, I should be going. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”
I follow him to the door to show him out. We shake hands, while he looks me over again and nods. He heads down the stairs to the silver Porsche parked in the driveway. I stifle a laugh at the sight of him squeezing into the tiny car.
“You should buy a real car, man!” I yell out.
Ari raises his left hand. I spot the gold signet ring he wears on his pinky finger, as if he’s royalty or some shit. He gives me a wave and a smile, before starting the engine and driving off.
Cunt!
Liv
I’d just finished putting the finishing touches on pierogis I stuffed with mushrooms and minced chicken. I sprinkle some fresh parsley on top. It was a dish Olga showed me how to make. I put the top to the Le Creuset dish on, covering it up. I’d been cooking so much Ukrainian food since I’d been living here in Malibu, anyone would’ve assumed I was Eastern European.
Zane’s chef, Lionel, still came twice a week to stock the fridge with healthy items. He also prepared whatever dishes we wanted, which was nice when I didn’t want to have to cook.
I brush my hands off on the T-shirt I’m wearing, that’s covered in paint and linger a little in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass in the den, watching the sunset. It’s breathtaking. The sky is fire, then it’s peach and then it fades to cotton candy pink. It’s my favorite thing about living in this house—seeing the sunsets every day and listening to the water below crash against the shoreline.
Slowly, I walk closer to the window and place my palms on the glass. The seagulls fly overhead. A soft sea breeze slips in through the crack of the door. It all looks so peaceful, which is in complete contradiction to how I feel inside. Something isn’t right...
Zane hasn’t been sleeping since we’ve been here. He’s quiet and withdrawn. And he spends most of his time in the recording studio and the gym. He’s on the phone a lot and has endless appointments, which I know has a lot to do with Stanton suing him and the band for breach of contract.
My stomach churns whenever I think about my father’s behavior. Our relationship has soured more now, since all of this. I don’t even have words for Stanton. All this did was pile more shit on top of shit and frankly, when it came to Stanton, I felt like all I was doing was travelling down Shit Lane.
Tom Stanton was a billionaire and that was aside from my grandfather’s wealth that was left to him—some of which was also left directly to me. The reality that Stanton wanted to sue Zane for everything he had, only confirmed that his greed showed no bounds. He was willing to go to any lengths to have his way.
Dexter and Rose were here a lot. Wyatt had gone back to New York but we kept in touch texting and emailing frequently. He was one of my best friends now. Dexter bought a place a few minutes away from here and Charvi came back to California with him. She planned to transfer to go to school here but right now, she was off. I saw her a lot which was nice. We spent time at the beach below the house, surfing and swimming. She allowed me to paint her often. I now had an entire collection titled “Charvi-Baked.” It was one of Amanda Kipton’s favorite collections of mine and by now she’d sold nearly all the pieces in it.
I let out a loud sigh, thinking about the last few months. They were filled with so much happiness and so much sadness at the same time. I felt older, more in control of my life. I had my art. I had money. I had Zane—which was all I cared about. Somewhere I’d found myself along the way, even if just a little bit. I tried not to cry too often. It was a work in progress. I still had a lot more growing up to do, as we all did I suppose.
Zane didn’t talk much about Cash but I knew his death was gnawing at him. It was everything Cash hadn’t said that left everyone in limbo. He and Zane fought a lot but I knew in their own twisted way, they loved each other. I press my forehead to the cool glass and stare at the waves in the distance.
Zane tried his best to hide it but I knew he was using more than usual, which was taking a toll on him. He didn’t talk about it and I didn’t push. I never pushed.
A strong arm wraps around my waist. The warmth that presses against my back is enough to melt me into the floor.
“Cash wrote a song and it’s sooo fucking good,” Zane whispers against my ear, leaving his lips to graze along the shell of it.
I jerk my head to glance over my shoulder but I’m pinned. He kisses along the skin on my neck, brushing my hair out of the way. I hear him chuckle, which surprises me since he’s seemed so down lately.
“It’s good, Liv. If he was here I’d kick him in the balls for keeping it from me.”
I laugh a little. Zane pushes his hardness into my back and slides his hand up my shirt, palming my breast. I shiver when he squeezes my nipple between two fingers. My insides clench and my thighs quiver at the sensation.
“Let’s fuck,” he breathes out.
I squirm in his grip but it’s useless. I’m pinned to the glass. His breathing is heavy and I know he wants me bad.
“I have a watercolor I’m working on and all the paint is out.” I giggle.
Zane ignores me and pushes his hips into me harder. The only thing that separate us are his lounge pants and the thin cotton of my panties beneath the T-shirt I have on. We rock forward together as he slides the length of his hardness up the crack of my ass. It almost hurts.
“You don’t want it?”
“No.” I laugh.
His fingers slip along my seam. “Liar.” He hisses in my ear and I can hear the humor in his voice. “You’re soaking wet.”
He massages the bundle of nerves there for a moment. I squeak and fall deeper into his embrace. He slips a thick finger inside of me and then another. A blissful moan leaves my lips as he strokes me. I curl my fingers around his thick wrist, as he works his own deep inside of me, finding my G-spot. His fingers slide in and out of my slit, dragging up over my swollen clit each time he pulls out. I’m purring like a kitten and breathing heavy, fogging up the glass in front of me. He pushes harder into my wetness and groans into my neck at the sound of it. The feeling of his hot skin against mine sends me spiraling. My thighs quiver and my fingers dig harder into his skin as my orgasm approaches.
“Come for me, Liv. You feel so good,” he whispers with a heavy breath.
Zane’s hips slam into mine as we begin to rock in a rhythm that has me falling apart. An ugly whine leaves my mouth, right when I come, gasping for air with shaking thighs. Zane cups my face and kisses me. My moans are muffled by his mouth. Slowly, I open my eyes and take in his chiseled features. I pull off my T-shirt and leave it on the floor. He backs away from me to get a good look and gives me a wolfish grin, before he picks me up. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, while he walks us lazily to the bedroom.
Liv
Zane places me down gently on the bed.
Jeff Buckley’s distinctive voice echoes from the stereo on low, as he sings Forget Her. I’m surrounded by soft sheets and a thick white comforter. Zane smiles and removes his T-shirt, exposing his sculpted chest and carved abs. I allow my gaze to remain on his gorgeous body. He smiles and runs a hand through his thick hair, before stepping out of his lounge pants. I writhe just beneath him, still recovering from the powerful orgasm I’d just had. I was still dazed and in awe of the man standing in front of me.
He crawls over me, covering me with the heat that exudes from his big body. He kisses my lips softly and for some reason I’m confused. Everything about this is strange and different. I’m a tangle of emotions right now.
“Zane,” I whisper desperately.
He blinks slowly and parts my thighs. He runs his hands all over me, letting his fingers trail a line over the soft skin on my stomach. His touch is comforting and sensual. My eyel
ids grow heavy when we kiss again. I taste and savor his mouth and the lingering minty taste on his tongue. Zane caresses my face with his hand, while his breaths puff against my lips. His fingers slow trail down my side and wrap around my panties. In one strong tug, he tears them away from my skin. He pushes his boxer briefs down just as he takes a nipple in his mouth and moves slowly to the other keeping his eyes on me. I can feel myself already clenching and throbbing, desperate for him to settle himself inside of me.
He kisses my belly button again and gives me another cunning smile that confuses me. I part my legs in invitation, knowing I’m already soaking wet. Zane pushes his boxer briefs down and he bounces out hard and heavy, ready to fuck. He places an arm over my shoulder and drives into me with a breathy growl.
I stiffen, then relax and moan when he begins to move, setting a pace that only in a moment has me screaming and covered in sweat. He plows into me, throwing all his weight into each stroke. In a split second, I’m flipped over and pulled to my knees. The swift movement startles me. I arch my back, desperate for him to be inside of me. He pushes into my wetness, just as his fingers tangle into my hair. Zane slams into me, vaulting me forward, stealing my breath away. It’s good but it’s hard and relentless. He slows and pulls out of me.
I roll over. He breathes hard, staring down at me with those grey eyes that I swear hypnotize me. He lowers his head, pressing his forehead and his nose to mine. I’m whimpering and out of breath. I feel afraid and turned on. The emotion dripping from him is drowning me. I knew he loved me but I don’t think I ever understood how much. Now, I see that he loves me more than I think even he understands and it scares him. It scares me!
“I love you, Liv,” he whispers. “I want everything with you, I swear. Everything.”
I only nod, when he pushes into me again, splitting me wide open, filling me with more than himself. He’s giving me everything and I’m lapping it up. He fucks me slow and deep, increasing the pace as the sounds that leave my throat grow louder.
He’s fucking me like it’s the last time he’ll do it...like he’s going to war!
I scream his name when he slows, tunneling deeper inside of me. I take in his features—cinched brows, furrowed forehead and an open mouth, edged by full lips that heave for breath with every stroke he makes into me. He’s covered in sweat and he looks gorgeous. I thread my fingers into his thick black hair, while his mouth consumes mine. His lips are hot and wet. His tongue pushes mine into submission each time I attempt to control the kiss.
I love this man so fucking much. What I feel for him should be illegal. He’s all I need. Zane makes me feel like I’m the most flawless creature in the world, even though I know I’m not. I’m one of the most fucked-up people I know!
I allow my thoughts to settle for a moment, listening to my own helpless moans as I melt into him. Isn’t that what love is? When someone loves you despite all your shortcomings, imperfections and less than desirable attributes?
In this moment, I know that no matter what happens this man will love me. He did love me. I didn’t need to work on anything else, except for to love myself a little more.
“I love you,” I mumble against his lips.
Zane’s grey eyes open slowly, allowing me to see the storm brewing in them.
He consumes my mouth again. His kiss is slow and controlled, possessive. I moan into his mouth when my insides clench and tighten around the thick length of him. I’m coming, screaming his name as my thighs shiver around him. He fucks me harder, like a savage while loud hoarse groans leave his mouth. He stills completely, allowing me to take in the corded muscles that run along his triceps down to his wrists. He lets out a loud growl that nearly deafens me and pumps me full of everything he has to give. I take it all...every single drop.
Zane
Liv is asleep. I stand and head towards the doors to the balcony pushing them open. I inhale the salty ocean air as soon as I step outside. I find a chair and plop down in it, taking a cigarette out of the box. I stare at it for a long while, then light it.
I take in the sound of the ocean and the dolphins in the distance. I can’t see them under the cover of darkness but their high-pitched cries are loud and clear.
I flick the lighter in my hands, staring at the flame. I tuck it back into my pocket and settle against the lounge chair kicking my legs out. A white crescent moon above lights the night sky a little. I take in how spectacular it is.
The last few years had done something to me but not more than what’s happened to me in these last few months. I chuckle at how much has changed. I always wanted a family, even though no one would’ve guessed, judging by my current lifestyle. Before the band, Dexter was all I really had.
I always lied and told people that I didn’t know my mother and that I didn’t remember her. It wasn’t entirely true. I remember both of my parents. The earliest and probably the last memories I have of them, were from when I was little—maybe five or six years old. My parents used to take me to the fair in the summers down in Nashville. We would spend the day there in the sun, laughing and munching on candy corn and snacks until our bellies hurt.
My mother was named Mara. She was beautiful. She had curly black hair and inquisitive eyes that were the color of palm leaves. My father’s name was Paul. I believe things were good when my parents first married but life collapsed quickly, only in a matter of years. Paul eventually started drinking, lost his job and left my mother to raise me on her own. The story is so fucking sad. I rarely think about it and I never talk about it.
Paul died shortly after he left Nashville. Mara tried to make it on her own for a while. I remember she was always working. Men were always coming to the house. I was left with this and that person most of the time, if I wasn’t in school. Half the time she was strung out and high. Eventually even her beauty went, along with most of her teeth in less than a year. We rarely had food or any place to live, bouncing from here to there.
Mara often told me stories about how things used to be when my father was alive and when he was clean and sober. I only listened but I didn’t truly understand what she was talking about much of the time. Mara always told me to keep good memories of my father. Then she would beg me to keep good memories of her.
“No matter what, remember me the way I am now,” Mara would often say when she was happy.
And I did. Eventually, all Mara ended up being was a drug-addicted prostitute, who couldn’t care for me. I awoke one morning soaked in piss. Mara was lying dead next to me with a needle sticking out her forearm. She’d died in her sleep. After that, I landed in foster care permanently. She was all I had and she left me. She quit. She fucking bailed.
But I still love Mara, just like she asked me to...no-matter-what.
I wipe my wet face and force a laugh. I didn’t want to be a memory to Liv or a sad fucking story. I wouldn’t be like them. I wanted to have the courage to be here, for her.
Standing, I take another deep breath and put out the cigarette. I look at Liv’s sleeping form underneath the white sheets. I didn’t know when things had become so complicated. Or, maybe they were much simpler now?
I drop my head to the ground and with a slow shake of my head, I laugh to myself again. “Everything is clear,” I whisper in answer to my own thoughts.
I’d made my decision.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Liv
It was eight in the morning. I stand out on the deck, watching the sunrise. I take a long sip of my tea, staring out at the ocean and the dolphins that swim in the distance. It’s so wild out here.
Zane steps out on the deck fully dressed, wearing a jacket over a white cotton T-shirt, jeans, and boots. I look over his attire skeptically. The smile that was previously on my face collapses, when I take in the suitcase next to the door.
He takes the tea cup from me and sets it down. His warm hands cup my face, while I stare up at him wide-eyed and fucking terrified. I open my mouth to speak when he pulls me towards him, dropping to his
knees.
“Where—”
“Liv,” he says pressing a kiss to the top of my hands, wrapping them in his. “I have to go.”
The soft breeze that flows over where we are ruffles his black hair. He smiles and gazes into my eyes with his glassy grey ones. I lift my head only to see Yandi standing off in the distance, already crying. Tarver stands next to her, with a suitcase next to him and his keys in hand.
“I have to go.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You’re leaving?”
“I have to, Liv.”
I pull away from him and he only grips me tighter. He stands and pulls me against his chest, then kisses my lips. His hand swipes away the tears that wet his cheeks.
“Why are you leaving me?”
“Liv,” he growls, holding me close.
“Why, Zane?” I cry.
He gives me a hard stare, then smiles but it’s sad and only makes me cry more. “I want to be your gorilla, Liv.”
“You are,” I squeak.
Zane shakes his head vigorously. “I want to be your gorilla, so fucking bad.” He sucks in a breath and sniffles while more of his tears fall. “And I can’t be that, when I’m like this.”
“You are,” I mumble into the leather of his jacket. “You are.”
I feel blindsided. We never talked about this. This is just being sprung on me on what’s supposed to be a fairly pleasant morning. What is this bullshit?
“I don’t want to go home. I can’t go home.”
“You stay here, Liv. I want you to stay here,” he says, placing a key in my hand. “Yandi will be around. Dexter and Charvi aren’t far away. Tarver is always reachable.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“A few months.”
I cry harder.
“I promise you everything will be better, Liv, when I come back. I promise you.”
