He opens a drawer and fishes around until he finds the keys. He tosses them at me and my heart leaps. If I hurry, I might be able to get to Emily’s before they do.
“Thanks,” I say.
I pull on my overalls and get Paul’s helmet from the closet. The bike is down in the garage under the building, but there’s no guard and no delay this time of the night. I run down the steps, hoping the damn thing starts when I try it.
The bad thing about cars and things with engines is that I can’t hear when they start. I can feel the vibrations, though, and I put my hand on it and turn the key. It hums for a second, and then it stops. Of course, this would happen. I’m wrapped like a pig in a blanket and the fucking bike won’t start. I turn the key again, and the bike revs to life. I look behind me at the black smoke billowing from it and straddle the machine, kicking it off its stand. It’s cold as a witch’s tit in a brass bra, but I have a bad feeling about sending Emily home with Trip. I just do. I don’t know why. But it’s there, and I need to get to her.
The city keeps the streets pretty clear, and cars have been on them all day today. Except for some black ice, I’m not too worried about the roads.
It takes me about fifteen minutes to get to her house. I see the tail lights of the limo pulling away as I drive up. Henry opens the front door and looks out as I stop Paul’s bike in front of the door, looking through the window for Emily. She must have already gone upstairs.
Henry motions me forward. “Bring that thing inside,” he says. He points to the bike and points to the inside again, like he’s not sure I understand. “If you leave it out there, someone might steal it,” he reminds me.
It’s a small bike, but it’s going to leave wet tracks on the tile if I bring it inside. He nods at me in encouragement and jerks his head, gesturing me into the lobby.
I kill the engine and push the bike into the foyer. He points to a storage room, and I roll the bike toward it. He takes a bucket with a mop sticking out of it from the same room, and goes behind the wheels really quickly, cleaning up my mess.
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“No worries.” He cocks his head at me. “Why weren’t you with Miss Madison?” he asks, his brows drawing together.
“Technical glitch,” I say, pulling my knit cap from my hair. I blow into my hands. They’re fucking freezing, even though I had on thick gloves.
He motions for me to come close to the heater blow his desk. “Warm up a bit. Then you can go upstairs.”
I look at him out of the corner of my eye, as if I don’t care about the answer to my next question. “Are Emily’s parents upstairs?”
He shakes his head. “Just that man. The little fucker.” Henry is a New Yorker through and through. I never can tell, since I can’t hear accents, but I can tell when men start dropping the f-bomb where they’re from. A laugh bursts from my throat.
“Oh, you have no idea,” I say.
“I do know. He threw a fit yesterday when I wouldn’t give him a key.” He shakes his finger in the air like he’s just remembered something. “Speaking of which, I have your key.” He reaches into a drawer, takes out a small brown envelope, and places it in my hand with a flourish. I could kiss him, I’m that happy. I shake the key into my hand and thread it onto my key ring.
“Thank you,” I say.
He nods his head toward the elevator. “You better go up. She didn’t look very happy when they came home.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He had icicles hanging from his nuts, if I’m not mistaken,” he says with a grin. “That girl isn’t giving him a second glance, much less any action.”
I really will have to kiss Henry for that. I reach for him, and he jumps back. He’s spry for someone as old as he is. “Save that for Miss Madison,” he says with a laugh.
I unhook my thermal overalls and step out of them. “Can I put these with the bike?” I ask. He opens the storage-room door back up, and I drape them over the Suzuki. I look at Henry. He looks tired.
“Do you ever go home, Henry?” I ask. It seems like he’s here every time I show up.
He smiles softly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “My wife had a stroke recently, so I work to pay for her medical care right now.” He shrugs. “They offer me the extra hours, so I take them.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” I say. “Will she be all right?”
His eyes skitter away from mine. “I certainly hope so.” His chest fills with air as he sighs. “She’s at a nursing home temporarily.” He smiles. “I saw her at lunch, and I’ll go there to sleep tonight.”
I squeeze his shoulder. If there were ever a man who needed a hug, it’s Henry. In Bro Code, a shoulder squeeze is the same as a hug. “You should go home. You might rest better there.”
He smiles and says, “I can’t sleep without her, so I might as well sleep at the nursing home. I’d rather sleep in a recliner holding her hand than sleep in the biggest, softest bed in the world.” He shakes his head. “Someday you’ll know what it’s like to wake up with one woman every day for almost forty years.” He points toward the elevator. “You’ll have the pitter-patter of little feet in the early years.”
I point to my ears and laugh. “I can’t hear a pitter-patter, Henry.” He looks slightly chagrined. “But I get the idea.”
“Miss Madison, she’s the one for you, isn’t she?” he asks.
My heart swells. “The only one.”
He claps my shoulder this time. “Then go get her.” He shoves my shoulder, pushing me toward the elevator. “Go on now. You don’t have to keep an old man company.”
I smile and wave at him, going toward the elevator. I turn back at the last minute. “If I can help with your wife, Henry, please let me know. I have a lot of brothers, and they’re really good for moving furniture and stuff. When she’s ready to come home.”
He grins. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“They’re not good for much else,” I shout as the elevator doors close. Except for supporting me in everything that I do. Except for loving me unconditionally. Except for when they kick my ass for being stupid. They’re useless, all right.
I smile all the way up the elevator. I don’t knock when I get to Emily’s door. Instead, I use my key.
Emily
Trip gets in the elevator behind me and has the nerve to try to back me into a corner. His arms go to each side of my head, trapping me. I turn my face, because he’s had too much to drink. His breath smells like straight-up Jack Daniels.
He was really quiet in the limo coming home, but I have known him long enough to see all the signs. I put my hand on his chest and shove. “Move back, Trip,” I say.
He leans down, breathing into my face. I turn my head and close my eyes. Fighting with Trip when he’s drunk is like kicking a puppy. A rabid puppy who won’t stop foaming at the mouth and trying to bite you. It’s the only kind of puppy I wouldn’t mind kicking in the teeth.
“I don’t want to move back,” he says, slurring as he talks to me. “You used to like it when we were close like this. You said I didn’t show you enough affection.”
He runs his meaty hand down the side of my face. “Back up, Trip,” I warn him again. All it would take is one big push, and he’d be flat on his tail. I’m sure of that.
The elevator dings, and I duck beneath his arm. He groans and follows me to the door. “Hurry up,” he grouses. “I have to piss.”
I shake my head, let him in, and he runs by me, heading straight for the bathroom. He doesn’t close the bathroom door, and I can hear him. There’s no need to even try to talk to him about respect and his lack of it. He’s too drunk.
I look longingly at the front door. Now that he’s inside the apartment, I can catch a cab and go to Logan’s. My heart warms at the idea of it. I turn toward the door. There’s nothing I need here. My bag is still at Logan’s apartment. And so is my heart.
Trip grabs my elbow and says, “Where do you think you’re
going?” just as I reach for the door.
“I’m going to Logan’s,” I say. There’s no need to lie to him. “Get out of my way.”
He stands between me and the door with his arms folded, his feet spread wide. Shoot. I should just go to my room and wait for him to pass out. I turn to walk in that direction, but he grabs for me again. I jerk my arm from his grip. That hurts.
“Stop it, Trip,” I say. “Just go to bed.”
He grabs my hips and pulls me to him, grinding himself against me. “I will if you’ll go with me.”
I wouldn’t go to the store with him, much less to bed. “You’re drunk, Trip. Go sleep it off.”
“I’m not so drunk that I can’t get it up,” he says.
Yes, I can feel that much against my stomach where he’s pressed against me. I take a deep breath and take his face in my hands, looking into his eyes. “Go to bed,” I say softly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He bends his head and presses a kiss to my neck. Then he bites down, sucking hard on my skin. I shove him back, covering my neck with my hand. “What was that, Trip?” I shout. “God, what’s wrong with you?”
“It’s just a little love bite,” he says, grinning. “You used to love for me to nibble on your neck.”
“That wasn’t a nibble,” I say. “It’s like you were trying to suck my blood or something.”
“I’ll suck on something,” he says, as his hand comes up to cup my breast.
I can’t help it. I slap him. I slap him directly across the face. I hit him so hard that I have to shake the sting from my hand.
It’s in that second that I realize my front door is open, and then Logan charges across the room like a bull and hits Trip in the side, tumbling with him to the floor.
“Logan!” I cry, tugging on his shoulder. He has his hands around Trip’s throat and noises are coming from his mouth that I don’t understand. I’ve never seen him this angry, but apparently intense emotion affects his speech.
Trip grunts from beneath him, and I see what’s going to happen before it ever does. Trip reaches for an urn that’s on the floor by the couch, and he picks it up to hit Logan over the head with it. It bounces off his back, though, and just tumbles to the floor. It’s plastic, so I don’t know what Trip thought he was going to do with it.
“Let him up, Logan,” I say, getting my face down near his. “Let him up. He’s drunk.”
He doesn’t let him up, though. He keeps his knee on Trip’s chest. He’s not hurting him, but he’s holding him there. “What the fuck was he doing to you that made you slap him?” he asks.
“He’s drunk. Let him up so he can go to bed.”
Logan takes his thumbs off Trip’s windpipe, and Trip draws in a huge gulp of air. “Call the cops, Emily,” Trip starts screaming. Logan tightens his grip again.
“He has to shut the fuck up if he wants me to let him up.” He looks down at Trip. “I hate a fucking drunk,” he says. “I’m going to let you up, and you’re going to go to your room. Do you understand?”
Trip nods. Logan steps back, and Trip scrambles to his feet, nearly falling over in the process. “I should call the cops.”
“So I can tell them how you were assaulting me?” I ask.
He looks confused. “I just wanted to kiss you,” he whines. He’s not pretty when he drinks. Not at all.
I shake my head. “But I didn’t want to be kissed.” I blow out a huge breath. I feel as though someone pulled the stopper on a big balloon inside me. “Go to bed, Trip. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Trip nods, unsteady on his feet. He goes into his room and closes the door.
I draw in a deep breath, and Logan pulls me into him. I let him hold me because I think he needs it even more than I do. I step back and shake out my hand. I really hit Trip pretty hard, and my palm is still stinging.
“What did he do?” Logan bites out.
I shake my head. He’s not going to stop asking until I tell him. “He tried to kiss me. That’s all.” He lays his thumb on my lips.
“He kissed you?” he asks, his voice soft and reverent. His eyes search mine and I know he’s watching all my nonverbal cues.
“No,” I clarify, shaking my head. “He tried to kiss me. That’s a very different thing.” I unclip the barrette from my hair and brush it out with my fingers as I kick off my shoes. “What are you doing here?” I finally ask.
“I was worried about you,” he admits. His face is stony. “With good reason, apparently.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He helps me shrug out of my coat, and his hands on my arms are freezing. “Why are you so cold?” I ask.
“I rode the bike over here,” he admits.
“A bike?”
“A motorcycle, really,” he goes on to explain.
“You have a motorcycle?” I had no idea he owned a motorcycle.
“It’s Paul’s. He let me borrow it.” He tips my head to the side to look at my neck. “What the fuck is that?” he barks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Emily.” He growls, and I expect to see him pound on his chest like an ape any second. That would be kind of hot, actually.
I don’t want to talk about it anymore. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say. “Can you help me get out of this dress?” I ask because I want to take his mind off my neck and the mark Trip left there.
He points me toward my room and pops me on my butt. “In the bedroom,” he says. He glares at Trip’s door.
“He’s out for the night. He won’t bother us.” I have seen Trip drunk enough times that I’m certain of it. “Can you stay the night?”
He follows me into the bedroom and closes and locks the door behind us. With a pensive look, he pulls my lower lip from between my teeth with the pad of his thumb. I hadn’t even realized I was biting it.
“You have no idea how much I wanted to kill him when I saw his hands on you,” he says.
“Not nearly as much as I wanted to.” I turn my back to Logan, and he slides the zipper down slowly. He pushes my hair over my shoulder and presses his lips to my shoulder, making me go all quivery on the inside. “What made you come here?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I didn’t want to sleep without you.” He tweaks my nose as he starts to unbutton his shirt. He hangs it over the back of a chair, shaking the wrinkles out of it. The racks holding the clothes my mom sent over are still in the corner. “You know,” he says. “I was talking with Henry downstairs. Did you know his wife is so ill she’s in a nursing home?”
I gasp. I had no idea. “Is she all right?” I ask.
“He goes there every night to sleep because he says he can’t sleep without her.” He smiles and tips my chin up. “I want us to be like them when we grow up.” He grins.
“I think we already are them,” I say. It’s true. We are. I am not sure I could live without Logan at this point.
He undresses completely and slips between my sheets. I get ready to pull a T-shirt over my head, my back to him when he complains.
“No, leave that off,” he says, his voice gruff. I shrug, turn the lights down but not off, and climb into bed with him. And then he shows me all the reasons why I never want to sleep in a bed away from him ever again. And then he shows me even more reasons when he pulls me into his arms and holds me close all night long.
Logan
I like having her legs spread around me. I like it more than I should. Her arms are wrapped around my waist, and her face rests against my back. I made her wear the helmet, but we’re only going around the corner so I can drop her off at Julliard, so I’m not too worried about getting caught without one. I pull up in front of the building where her first class is located and kill the engine.
“Do you want me to walk with you to class?” I ask as she gets off the bike and unclips the helmet. She holds it out to me and smiles, shaking her head.
“I can find it.” She leans forward and presses her lips
to mine. I pull her closer, not ready to give her up yet. She’s looking all fresh faced and excited with her hair up in a ponytail and her backpack slung over her shoulders. She says something against my lips, and I sit back so I can see her face.
Thanks for the ride, she signs.
You’re very welcome. God, she’s so pretty.
She grins and blushes. Thanks for the one last night, too.
I go hard immediately. Be careful, I warn.
Or what? she teases.
I jerk her to me with a quick tug to her scarf, and she laughs. I can feel the quake of her stomach against my hip. I fucking love you so much, I say. I can’t seem to stop telling her.
She rolls her eyes, kisses me quickly and says, I just love it when you get all romantic. I love you, too.
I spin her toward her building and tap her on the ass. I have something I need to take care of this morning. Something really important. She waves at me as she walks away, her fingers barely moving. Then she holds up the I love you sign, and I know my name is written right below it.
I stop at home so that I can shower and change. I want to look nice when I go to her father. I need to explain to him, man-to-man, why Emily isn’t going to be staying at her apartment, or at least not until Trip’s gone. That mark on her neck is inexcusable. It’s like he was trying to brand her, even though she’s mine. And I simply can’t tolerate that. What would have happened if I hadn’t shown up when I did?
Paul is just getting up when I come out of the bathroom. “Glad to see you’re back to normal,” he says, smiling at me over a cup of coffee.
I tell Paul about what happened at the party with the model, about Emily’s father, and about what Trip did just before I got to Emily’s apartment last night.
He shakes his head. “That’s fucked up,” he says. “What are you going to do?”
I heave a sigh. “I think I have to go and talk to her father. Today.”
He nods. It’s slow but still a nod. He’s hesitant, and I don’t understand why.
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