by Aly Martinez
“Then have Stewart send her an e-mail, because I’m taking you home, and you’re not leaving until the concert tomorrow night.”
“You are not my father, Henry. You don’t get to make decisions for me,” I snapped.
Leaning into my face, he bit right back, “Well, until you start taking care of yourself, it’s obvious someone needs to. Food and sleep are not optional.”
He forced me toward the car while Devon watched uncomfortably.
“You know I’m the one who signs your checks, right?” I spat the words at Devon as I attempted to shake Henry’s arm off. “Let. Me. Go.”
Henry let out a huff and loosened his grip on my elbow. I started to step away but then lost the ground beneath my feet.
“Not this time,” Henry gritted out, throwing me over his shoulder. “I’ve let you do this bullshit for the last three years. I’m done, Levee. And so are you. Just because you’re helping people doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting yourself.”
“Get your hands off me!” I screamed, but he marched to the SUV and less-than-gracefully deposited me onto the black leather backseat.
Just as I began to scramble toward the other door, a bright flash illuminated the inside of the SUV.
“Shit,” I breathed as Devon quickly circled around to the driver’s side.
“Back up,” he ordered as numerous flashes fired off. “I said, ‘Back. Up.’”
Henry groaned before straightening his shirt, pasting on a smile, and climbing in beside me. Tossing his arm around my seat back, he asked, “You done yet?”
I shook my head.
“Well, pretend you are. And put your head down. Your makeup looks like shit.” Dropping his arm around my shoulders, he curled me into his side.
And just like so many times before, I hid my emotions in his chest as our car pulled away.
* * *
“Let me carry her up.” Devon’s voice woke me from my sleep.
“I’ve got her,” Henry replied. “Shhhh,” he whispered into my hair as I began to stir. “Lock up when you leave,” he told Devon as he started up the winding stairs with me securely cradled in his arms.
“I’ll feel better if I stay for a little while. Make sure she’s okay and everything. I can drive you home later,” Devon replied.
Henry brushed the idea off. “Thanks, but I think I’m gonna spend the night. I’ll call Carter if I need a ride. You can go.”
Devon growled in frustration but finally relented. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll lock up.”
As Henry lowered me onto my bed, I heard the beeps of my alarm being set.
Lifting my feet, he pulled off my heels.
“Slumber party?” I asked sleepily.
He chuckled, collapsing into bed next me. “It’s a shame you don’t have a dick. Because, for as much as I put up with from you, I should at least be getting laid tonight.”
I laughed, scooting into his side, all of my earlier anger muted by sheer exhaustion.
He let out a sigh as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
“I’m worried about you,” he whispered.
I didn’t reply.
I was starting to worry too.
“You’re overdoing it, Lev. I know this job isn’t exactly nine-to-five, but it’s not twenty-four-seven, either. You have to stop being Levee Williams all the time and just be you.”
“I know,” I responded.
I didn’t though. I felt like a robot parading around in a lost woman’s body.
Smile.
Pose.
Turn.
Toss in the occasional song.
Repeat.
What little time I did manage to carve out for myself was spent at various children’s hospitals across the country.
Smile.
Pose.
Turn.
Watch a child die.
Repeat.
With every day that passed, the smile became less and less genuine, the pose more and more forced, and the turn took me further and further away from who I really was.
My career was soaring while, personally, I was plummeting. Every single day felt like a terrifying free fall in no particular direction. I was stuck in the middle with no way up—or down.
“You remember that girl, right?” Henry asked, tucking a hair behind my ear.
I nodded.
I did remember her. She was fun and carefree. She loved going out and dancing at nightclubs until the very last song played. She slept until noon if she could. Then, fueled by coffee alone, she’d spend the day with a guitar strapped around her neck and a notepad at her side. She had a huge heart, but she knew her limitations.
Oh, I remembered that girl. I just couldn’t figure out how to get back to her.
“You have one more show here tomorrow night. Then one in LA next week. After that, cancel New York. Stay here and rest up,” he urged.
I suddenly sat up. “I can’t cancel!”
“Yes, you can. It’s a stupid award show. I’ll accept whatever you win on your behalf.”
“I’m supposed to perform.” I sighed, flopping back down.
I couldn’t say that his idea didn’t sound appealing. Without New York, I’d have two glorious weeks off.
Which would leave me a full fourteen days to sit in a children’s hospital. My gut wrenched at the idea.
“You need a break, Lev. It’s not a concert. I’m not suggesting you let down thousands of paying fans. It’s one song…at an award show. You’ll be missed, but they’ll find someone to fill your spot. I swear.”
Not wanting to continue the conversation any longer, I simply nodded in agreement. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. After that night’s little fainting episode, I couldn’t argue that I needed a break. My mind and conscience just wouldn’t allow me to take one.
“Get some sleep, Levee.” He kissed the top of my head.
I lay there for several minutes as Henry’s breathing evened out. From my position on the bed, I could make out the dancing lights of the San Francisco skyline outside my balcony doors. I’d bought the house for that view, but as I stared at the bridge in the distance, my mind drifted to a completely different view altogether.
One of the tattooed variety.
Chapter Five
Sam
I WENT THROUGH both packs of cigarettes I’d brought to the bridge with me that night, but six hours of pacing later, my Designer Shoes still hadn’t showed. To say it scared the shit out of me was an understatement. I was a swinging pendulum of emotions as I walked that side of the bridge more times than any smoker should be allowed. On one extreme, I was freaking the fuck out that maybe she’d actually jumped at some point before I’d gotten there, but on the other end, I was celebrating the fact that she had found other ways to cope with her issues and didn’t need to go up there anymore. In between those two polar-opposite options, I chastised myself for being such a mental case, freaking out over a woman I hardly knew.
Then her smile would pop into my mind and sling me right back into a panicked state again.
By the time I left, the sun was peeking over the horizon and a slew of what-ifs were running rampant through my mind. None of which were good, and all of which ended with Anne.
I was a disaster.
With exactly zero hours of sleep under my belt, I started the next morning in the shittiest of shit moods.
And that was only the beginning of it.
“What do you want?” I greeted my visitor around a mouth full of apple as I opened my front door.
“Are you avoiding me?” Lexi asked, sliding past me.
“Well, come on in.”
I didn’t linger in the doorway. If Lexi was showing up at my door, she had something to say, and knowing her, she wouldn’t be letting it go until she said it—probably multiple times.
The clip of her heels followed me to the kitchen, where I was cooking my breakfast.
“You know, this really isn’t fair to me,” she said, stopping beside the 19
70s barstools I had just finished refurbishing the day before. “Are these new?”
“New? No. New to me? Very. Now, cut the bullshit and tell me what exactly is not fair so we can get this over with. I need to eat and get to work.” I nabbed my spatula and flipped two eggs frying in a pan before setting it back down.
“Becky told me that she saw you at a bar with a woman last week.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I cocked my head to the side as I propped a hip against the counter. “I’m not sure you can consider a party at Quint’s a bar.” I shrugged nonchalantly.
I knew what was coming.
Three, two, one…
“You’re making me look like an idiot!” she screeched, throwing her hands up in the air.
With her outburst, Sampson came barreling down the stairs only to come to a screeching halt when he caught sight of Lexi. He was a dog, but his disappointment was palpable. I couldn’t help but laugh; I shared those exact feelings.
“Stop laughing!” Lexi snapped.
My already-thin and sleep-deprived patience disappeared. I could’ve pretended that I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with her bullshit, but quite honestly, I just had no desire.
“Get out of my house,” I ordered, going back to cooking my eggs.
“Stop. You need to stop being stubborn and give us another chance. I know you’re pissed. I screwed up, and I’ve apologized at least a dozen times. But, Sam, we can’t just throw away what we had.”
“Excuse me?” I spun to face her, shocked by her nerve.
“You’re making me look like an idiot in front of our friends. When we get back together—”
I abruptly cut her off. “We are never getting back together.”
“Sam, I love—” She took a step toward me, but I pushed a hand out to halt her.
“I’m going to stop you right there. Listen up, because you obviously need to hear this—again.” I quirked an eyebrow. “I do not love you. I have never loved you. I will never love you.”
Her head jerked to the side as if I’d physically slapped her. Sure, it was harsh. But she clearly hadn’t heard me each time I had uttered those words over the last two months. Lexi Prior was a nice enough girl, or at least she had pretended to be for the six months we were dating. She was also gorgeous and used to getting exactly what—or, in this case, who she wanted.
But so was I.
And Lexi was no longer who I wanted in any regard.
“You need to take a step back and let this really sink in, Lex. This crazy-ex-girlfriend bit you have going on is not a good look for you.” Never tearing my eyes off her, I blindly found my coffee on the counter and calmly tipped it to my lips.
Unfortunately, Lexi was also determined. “Don’t act like that. You know you didn’t give us a fair shot. After Anne—”
Like an electrical shock, anger radiated through my body before finally firing from my mouth. “Get out!” I dropped my coffee cup in the sink and stormed to my front door, yanking it open.
“See! This is the problem. You lose your fucking mind at the mere mention of her name.”
“No. I lose my fucking mind when you mention her name. Big difference.” I snapped my fingers then pointed out the door.
Her eyes softened, and a tear escaped from the corner. “I apologized about that.”
My mouth gaped. Apparently, the crazy-ex-girlfriend thing wasn’t an act at all.
“You apologized? Ha!” Closing my eyes, I dug in my pocket for a cigarette. I didn’t usually smoke in my house, but it was either that or allow my head to explode. “You apologized?” I repeated to myself as I lit the end. Inhaling a long drag, I held it as long as possible, but the calming effect I was so desperately seeking never came.
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, reminding myself that she wasn’t even worth my anger. After the shit we’d been through, I should have been awarded a medal for even allowing her in my house at all. Just because I didn’t hold grudges didn’t mean I had to put up with her shit though.
Sucking in a deep breath, I found a very fake version of my inner calm. “Lexi, if I ever see you again, I’m going to do far more than embarrass you in front of our friends. You can spout whatever you want about us falling apart because I withdrew from our relationship. I won’t even bother lying and telling you that it’s not the absolute fucking truth. But I need you to listen closely right now, because I’m not doing this with you again. I’m done here, Lex. And, judging by the fact that you spent the morning before Anne’s funeral with your mouth wrapped around your personal trainer’s cock, you were done even before I was. Now, get the fuck out of my house, lose my number, and forget I exist. Because I sure as fuck have forgotten you.”
My smoke detector chose that moment to start blaring. Whether it was my cigarette or the eggs that had started to burn on the stove, I wasn’t sure. My only focus was on the woman unmoving across the room. She opened her mouth several times, but each time, I shushed her with a pointed glare. Finally, she gave up and stomped out. I was positive she wasn’t giving up though.
Christ!
I pinched the bridge of my nose and stared down at the floor. Sampson came over and nuzzled his thanks for getting rid of her against my leg—or maybe he just wanted his ears scratched. After snubbing my cigarette out on the sole of my boot, I headed to the kitchen to trash my breakfast, cursing Lexi for having trashed my morning.
And I did it worrying about a blond wig and shades that had trashed my night as well.
* * *
Two hours later, Henry Alexander’s latest album was blaring from the speakers in my workshop, until the room suddenly fell silent.
“Why do you listen to that shit?” Ryan asked, snatching up my iPod and scrolling through before landing on The Smashing Pumpkins.
After flipping my safety glasses off, I dropped the angle grinder into the claw-foot bathtub I was working on. “I like one song. Fuck off.”
“Bullshit. You love that crap. You’re such a bitch.” He walked toward me, dragging his hand over the smoothed edges of the porcelain.
“Says the man wearing a pastel-pink tie.”
He groaned. “Jen bought it for me. It’s hideous, but the first rule in attempting to sleep with your administrative assistant is: If she bought it, wear it.”
Lighting a cigarette, I asked, “What’s the second rule?”
He blew out a loud, frustrated breath. “I have no fucking clue. Covering my body in fucking tattoos and shoving a needle through the head of my cock? You prick.”
“Hey! She doesn’t know about that.”
“She better not!” Smoothing a hand over his short, brown hair, he mumbled in defeat, “I have no idea what to do with that woman. Any thoughts?”
“See, I thought the first rule of sleeping with your assistant is: Don’t. So I’m probably pretty worthless on the second.”
“Come on. It’s Jen.”
“Oh, I get it.” I tossed him a wink that he returned with an all-too-familiar glare.
Ryan had been obsessing over Jennifer Jensen since she’d walked into his office holding her résumé six months earlier. He was right—it was Jen, and she was fucking gorgeous. And, for that reason alone, I hadn’t immediately turned her down when she’d all but sexually assaulted me in the kitchen at Ryan’s office Christmas party. Ryan had been pissed when I’d told him later that night that she and I had shared a kiss (and a few gropes I’d purposely omitted from my confession). He’d blamed it on the tattoos and banned me from all future social gatherings.
Within twenty-four hours, he’d gotten over it and was back on the chase after Jen.
He turned his attention back to the tub. “What’s this going to be?”
“A loveseat,” I answered on a puff of smoke.
“No shit?” he breathed, notably impressed.
“Well, once I manage to get the front off. After that, I have to smooth everything out, resurface the outside, then upholster it. I got this incredible chocolate leath
er. Cost me a fucking mint, but it’s unbelievable.”
“How much?” he asked, squatting down in front of it and running his hand over the guidelines I had etched into the side.
“More than you can afford.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Try me.”
Ryan Meeks had the money. I knew that much.
I’d known Ryan since we were scrawny kids playing basketball in middle school. We were two unathletic losers who merged a friendship during one season riding the pine. We remained tight through high school and eventually shared a dorm at college. For as many years as we had been best friends, we couldn’t have been more different. I considered myself the beauty in our duo, but there was no doubting that he was the brain. While I spent my days covered in dust with at least one power tool in my hand, Ryan was a criminal defense attorney at one of the biggest law firms in San Francisco. He was still making a name for himself, but his six figures were nothing to sneeze at.
However, neither were my prices.
When I had gone off to college, I’d originally planned to major in architecture, but Christ, that shit was boring. I quickly switched to graphic design and fell in love. I dabbled in the corporate advertising world for a year or two after graduation, but ultimately, I hated that life. One random Wednesday afternoon, as I stood staring at my office door, overwhelming dread filled my gut and bile rose in my throat. It spoke wonders to me that I’d become physically ill at just the idea of doing my job. I couldn’t imagine how that shit would affect me mentally over the course of the years. So, without another thought, I marched to my boss’s office and quit.
In retrospect, it might not have been the smartest decision I’d ever made. The nausea I’d thought was overwhelming dread turned out to be the stomach flu. However, when I finally quit puking three days later, I couldn’t even bring myself to regret my choice. I’d finally discovered my true calling.
I’d always loved working with my hands; it had been ingrained in me at a young age. My parents hadn’t been rich by any means, but they hadn’t been destitute, either. My dad had a series of mental health issues, but even in his darkest hours, he could’ve been found locked in his shop, repairing something. He’d been a firm believer that you used everything until you couldn’t possibly use it anymore. My parents’ microwave had to have been at least twenty years old, but my father had refused to replace it. He’d fixed that thing on a daily basis for almost five years. The amount of money he’d spent on parts and the time researching how to make the repairs was insane. But, as far as he’d been concerned, you didn’t throw anything away ever.
