When It Rains... He Pours

by Leah Holt

  I just didn't know how dark his armor would turn out to be.

  Chapter Four

  Liam

  One week earlier

  Sitting in the coffee shop, I stirred a few packets of sugar into my coffee. Tapping the spoon on the rim of the cup, I rested it inside and took a sip. I couldn't think straight. For the first time in my life, I actually didn't have a damn clue what the hell I should do.

  There's other ways we can do this.

  Adjusting the cuffs on my sleeves, I stared out the window and watched for my partner. He was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago, but just like usual, he was late.

  Staring off, I was startled by a set of heavy hands and a thick laugh. “Hey, asshole, waiting long?”

  Rolling my eyes, I cleared my throat and leaned back in my chair. “Late much?”

  “I know, but hey, at least you know I'm consistent.” Laughing, Jacob slid into the chair across from me with that stupid smile on his face he always had. “So, how did it go? Did you get it done?”

  Shaking my head no, I fiddled with the handle of my cup. “She hasn't been there when I've gone by. I mean, I can keep trying, but I think I might have found something better.”

  Waving his arm, he called out to a waitress standing by the counter. “Can I get some coffee over here?” His brows arched as she shot him a look. “Some time today would be nice.”

  Always entitled, like the world revolves around his dumb ass.

  “Are you even listening?” I asked.

  A stern look fell over his face as he relaxed into his seat. Throwing his arm out, he rolled his fingers in the air. “I was listening and I don't agree with you. There's nothing better here, we've already been through this place a million times.” Throwing out a finger, he pointed at me, his lids folding like heavy blankets over his eyes. “And we're almost done, we're so fucking close. Why the hell would you go looking for something else?”

  “Just hear me out, alright?” Cocking his head into his shoulder, his lips went thin as I kept talking. “There's a building a few blocks over from here, it has a great view of the harbor and a ton of space we could work with. I was thinking, maybe this time we use something that's already available. And instead of building a hotel, what if we turned it into luxury apartments?”

  “Apartments? That's your bright fucking idea?” Letting out a sigh, a sarcastic smile teased his lips. “You want to put our name on an apartment building that's going to end up going to shit anyway? You're fucking with me right?” Jacob's voice had deepened, his eyes turning to pinpricks as he spoke. “That's not what we do, Liam. We don't play dress up with shit, paint it yellow and call it gold. We—”

  Leaning forward, I held up my hand to stop him from trying to belittle me. “Don't start, Jacob.” Letting our eyes connect, I matched his stare. “I know what we do, but I really think you should just think about it. It would work, I know it would. Why don't you come check it out with me, see it for your—”

  “No, we're not doing that shit. We came here for one thing and one thing only, that's what we agreed on.” Stabbing his finger into the table top, his glare hardened. “What's gotten into you? Why would you even suggest something like that?”

  “Fuck you man, none of this shit was set in stone. We had an idea, and now there's a new idea. What the hell is wrong with that?”

  We both went silent as the waitress approached the table and placed Jacob's coffee down. He sat there, glaring at me as if he was the one who was in charge of this whole empire, and I should know better than to go against him.

  But the truth was—he wasn't in charge, I was.

  It was a seventy thirty split between us, plain and simple. The company was in both our names, not just his, not just mine, but I held the larger chunk. That's how our father wanted it.

  And for good reason.

  He had a rap sheet the length of my arm. Most of the shit was stupid; petty left, receiving stolen goods, just dumb shit he didn't have to do.

  It always felt like he went out and did that shit just to piss off our father. Like he was giving him the finger and letting him know that he was going to do whatever the hell he wanted to, and no one could stop him.

  He was a boy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he used that to his advantage. Jacob expected the fucking world without having to lift a finger.

  He hadn't earned a damn thing, he simply had it handed to him on silver platter. And even that wasn't done by choice.

  Our father was gracious enough to leave him something, because that's what our mother had wanted. If my father could have had his way, he wouldn't have left Jacob with a damn pot to piss in.

  Working with family wasn't a simple task. He was my older brother, and I knew the fact that our father left a larger piece of his legacy to me really pissed on his parade. In his eyes he deserved it, just because he was the first born.

  I could shut the whole fucking thing down if I wanted to, but I tried to treat him like we were equal.

  It didn't matter, Jacob always walked around like he was king shit, and most of the time I let him. Because I never really cared before.

  Before this, it was always easier to just let him do it his way. I'd nod my head in agreement, make him feel like we were seeing eye to eye. And as long he didn't fuck up anything, it worked fine for me.

  This time was different. I didn't want the same thing as him, and I wasn't going to just sit back and let him steam roll the entire fucking project.

  Not anymore.

  “Liam, we both know what needs to happen, so get it done.” His lips thinned as he spoke, brows angling hard. “This isn't a fucking vacation, we're not here to sight see. We need those lots—all of them.”

  “I'll think about it,” I said harshly, standing up and squaring my shoulders. “I'll try one more time, but I'm not making any promises.” Tossing some money on the table, I turned to leave.

  Jacob threw his hands up, his tone full of frustration. “What the hell does that mean? We already decided. Where the fuck are you going? Don't just walk away from me.”

  Flicking my head over my shoulder, I snapped. “No—you decided, but I have the final say, don't forget that. It's my word that makes it happen, not yours.”

  “Why are you being such a dick?!” he yelled as I stormed towards the door.

  The room fell silent at his outburst, but I didn't look back. This wasn't up for debate, not anymore.

  I was taking control of this before he ruined everything. We might be brothers, but that didn't mean I had take his side.

  I had other plans.

  It wasn't until a day later that I heard from my brother. And I was actually surprised it took him that long to call me. I never told him no before, not once.

  “What do you want, Jacob?” Resting the phone on my ear, I walked to the closet and began sifting through.

  “You shouldn't have walked out on me like that, we weren't done talking, Liam. This needs to happen, you know it does.”

  “I told you I would think about it, I'm not done thinking yet.” Silence greeted me on the other end of the line. “Jacob, you still there?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, his tone thick and heavy. “First, you storm off like a fucking baby, and now you're pulling this garbage. I didn't go through all of this fucking shit for you to suddenly get cold feet. We talked about this, we both agreed we'd do what we needed to in order to get what we wanted.”

  Closing the closet, I stalked across the hotel room, laying out my clothes on the bed. “We have another option, I don't know why you're so resistant to it.”

  “Liam, you can't back out now, you can't just put the brakes on like this. We're partners, I thought we made this decision months ago.”

  “No, we're not partners, we're brothers.” Standing in front of the window, I looked out at the ocean. “And you came up with this, not me. I never said yes or no, I followed your lead like I always do. But things can change, I'm not your damn pup
pet.”

  “We worked so hard already, we spent months negotiating with everyone else. There's no reason for us to change it now, we're so close, you just have to—”

  Cutting him off, I shoved his words back down his throat. “Jacob, I'm done talking about this.”

  Growling, he let out a heavy breath into the receiver. “And what about the rest of them, huh?”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I kicked my shoes off. “We hand them back, nothing was signed and stamped. All we have right now is a bunch of people waiting on us. We can back out without any issues, no harm done. I'm sure half those people don't really want to sell anyway.”

  “Do you know what I had to do to make this happen? Do you have any idea what I put into this project from the beginning?” I could hear his anger building as his voice lowered. “I won't let you destroy this, Liam, I'll do what I have to in order to get this done. I'll find a way, money talks, I'll talk to someone until I find what I need.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” The line clicked, static filling my ear. “Jacob? Jacob, you there?”

  The line went dead.

  Chapter Five

  Glory

  Pushing the door shut in my apartment, I flopped down onto my couch. The plush mahogany cushions curved around my head and shoulders, cradling my body.

  I was exhausted. Having had way too much to drink and my brain overloaded with every emotion known to man, I could barely function. Dropping my arm like dead weight off the side, I rested the other across my eyes.

  What to do? What to do?

  What the fuck am I going to do?

  Words and images were blowing through my mind like a tornado. The destruction, the man, Liam. . .

  My chest constricted as ghostly sensations of his hands on my body took over, and sharp hairs prickled their way down my skin.

  No, not him, he's not what you need to think about.

  I tried to force myself to think of what really mattered, creating a series of everything that needed to get done, and putting them in order.

  Call my customers, clean the gallery, buy new supplies, paint my ass off.

  Don't think of Liam!

  His bright blue eyes flashed in my mind, causing my stomach to twinge with that familiar flutter of excitement. Clutching my belly, I rolled onto my side. I wasn't sure what it was about him that made me feel so tingly.

  This is stupid. It was a one night stand, get over it.

  My phone pinged in my purse, so I dug it out and checked the message. Ten messages were on my screen, all of them from my mother. She was last person I really wanted to talk to right then.

  'Glory, rent is due in a few days, are you coming over?'

  'Honey, did you get my message?'

  'Hello? Call your mother!'

  Her messages increased in worry and I wasn't surprised. I was all she had left. After losing my father, she seemed to clutch me harder. But I couldn't give her the same back. I was pulling away because things felt different, while she was doing everything to keep me close.

  The distress over what had happened came back ten fold, making me even more pissed and upset. She relied on me for everything, so this gallery wasn't just about my existence, but hers too.

  I loved my mother, don't get me wrong, but it was my job to care for her now. That was a heavy burden to carry, even as an adult.

  It was a promise I had made to my father when I found out he was sick. And there was no way I'd ever break it, not a chance in hell. He died knowing that I would make sure she would always be alright. I wasn't going to let him down, not ever.

  'Yes, I'm here. Sorry, long night, just waking up, I'll be by soon.' Turning my phone off, I dropped it onto the coffee table and stretched my arms up over my head.

  Looking around the quiet space, I searched for my planner. I had to focus on what mattered. I needed to get my shit together.

  Standing up, I walked to my desk, and rummaged around. Spotting the bright red planner, I pulled out the chair and sat down. My fingers shook as I pulled back the cover, knowing exactly how hard it was going to be to make those phone calls.

  Hi, this is Glory from Glory's Gallery. I hate to call you like this, but. . .

  I have some bad news. . .

  I regret to inform you. . .

  Damn it!

  Driving the tips of my fingers into my temples, I drew rough circles into the skin. Closing my eyes, I let out a nervous breath, and reached out for the phone. Dialing the first set of numbers, I pressed the receiver to my ear.

  “Hi, I'm looking for Mr. Vangaurd.” Running my finger up and down the spiral binding, I plucked the thin metal coil. “Mr. Vangaurd, this is Glory, from Glory's Gallery. I'm calling you because I have some bad news. . .”

  Resting the phone on the base, I checked off the last name on my list. I ended up with a mixed bag. Some of my customers were very understanding, others were sorry to hear about what happened, but wanted a refund anyway. And the select few gave me an ear full, demanding their money back as soon as possible.

  It could have been worse.

  Pushing the planner to the side, I spun in my chair and cupped my hands between my thighs. Staring blankly into my apartment, I let my eyes settle over everything and nothing at all.

  I felt like a zombie, unsure of how to move my feet forward, not knowing which direction to step or if I even wanted to.

  My stomach grumbled for food and my throat was dry as I swallowed from alcohol dehydration. Making my way into the kitchen, I poured myself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice.

  I felt strange. Everything felt strange. I didn't feel like me, not in the sense I was used to. I ate my food, but it had no flavor. I drank my juice, but I didn't taste the tartness of oranges.

  Before yesterday, I felt everything. I could see colors in any object, I could smell and taste and feel inanimate objects as if they were alive.

  But not today, not now.

  It was as if the life had been sucked from not just me, but everything around me. The ceramic bowl pinged off the sink as I dropped it inside, and my brain instantly went to the image of Liam toasting the days ahead.

  His smile, that dimple, the way his hair fell into his face and brushed his brows. The picture behind my eyes forced my heart to skip and made my body warm under the skin.

  Damn it! I don't need this right now!

  Holding the counter, my head dipped into my chest. I couldn't stay here, there was too much silence that allowed that man to steal my thoughts. Turning on my heels, I grabbed my tote and left.

  There's no time to sit around. Shit needs to get done.

  * * * *

  Standing in the doorway of my gallery, I felt the same feelings that I had the day before. And I felt stupid. My night with Liam did nothing to erase what happened. It didn't fix one fucking thing.

  I should have stayed here in the first place.

  Stepping over the debris, I made my way to the desk in the back of the room and dropped my bag on top. It didn't matter where I looked, all I could see was my life getting torn into shreds.

  Doing a walk through of the back room, I felt like my heart had been ripped out and smashed on the floor all over again. I literally had nothing left. The walls were painted with splashes of color, lewd words and profanity were written all over the place.

  Walking back to the front, my feet dragged, weighed down like I was wearing lead anchors. I can't do this. There's no way I'm ever going to come back from this.

  Pulling out my phone, I started taking pictures so I had something to show the insurance company. At least I'd get something back to help put the pieces back together.

  Every click of the button captured a screen shot of what I lost, a frozen keepsake of my life in ruins. Pulling a folder from my tote, I rummaged through and found the papers with my insurance company info on it.

  Plugging the numbers into my phone, the ringing echoed in my ear. After the third ring, a computerized voice picked up and let me
know that they had a large volume of calls and someone would be with me shortly.

  Listening to the music, I looked over my shoulder. My cheeks went from pink to red as I spotted the lovely makeover that had been done to my sign.

  Glory Hole. . . Real fucking funny, Asshole.

  “Hello, Graham and Tobin Insurance, can I help you?”

  “Hi, yes, my name is Glory Daniels, and I'm calling because I had a recent break-in and wanted to make a claim.”

  I could hear the woman tapping against a keyboard as she said, “Sure, let's pull up your information. Can I have the address of the unit.”

  After giving her the address, my birthday, my social, and the policy number, I heard her let out a soft sigh.

  “Hm,” she said, the clicking of her fingertips loud and unnerving.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Ms. Daniels, there's no easy way for me to put this, but you're not covered under that policy anymore.”

  “I'm not what?” My voice drew out confused and uneasy. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, it looks like we didn't receive a payment from you last month.”

  “No, no that's not right. I know I sent it.” Digging around in my bag, I found my checkbook and yanked it out. “I can tell you the check number, let me get it.”

  “Sure, take your time. It doesn't happen very often, but there are times where our system is behind and information processes late. If we can show proof of payment we can retro activate your policy.”

  Flipping through the checks, my thumb rode the thin papers like a deck of cards. “I have it right here, I just need to find it.” A loose sheet flew out, floating to the floor. Bending over, I picked it up and turned it over.

  No. . . No fucking way.

  Shit!

  “I. . . I never sent it.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “I have it here, I meant to send it, and I guess I didn't.” My heart sank deeper into my chest, the painful realization settling like a boulder in my gut.

  “Alright, that's not an issue. We can reinstate it over the phone and you'll have coverage starting today.”