by Aly Martinez
“You have to stop,” I growled. “Or keep going in a lot more detail. Your call.”
She softly giggled. “Can I ask you something?”
I adjusted my cock and, much to my dismay, assumed she was stopping. “Anything.”
“Why do you sometimes pick up your cigarette butts and sometimes you leave them on the ground?”
My stomach dropped, and I shifted to my side on the bed, staring into the blank space where Levee had spent only one night, though it would forever be her side.
“Anne,” I answered shortly. I was going to need to elaborate, but it would take a second to speak around the lump in my throat.
“Oh,” she breathed. “I’m sorry.”
I swallowed hard. “After one of her episodes, she and my mom had a falling out, so Anne moved in with me.”
“Sam, you really don’t have to answer. I didn’t know.”
“No. It’s okay. I don’t mind. So…anyway…Anne moved in with me, and it was really nice, actually. I enjoyed having her around, and it gave my mom a much-needed break after having spent her life caring for people. It made me feel good that I was helping, and it gave me peace of mind that Anne was safe. Anyway, she hated that I smoked. So, one day, while we were at a thrift store, picking up a few pieces for the shop, she found one of those old skeletons that they use in health class. I should have known by the gleam in her eye that it wasn’t going to be good for me, but I bought it anyway.”
I shook my head and smiled at the memory. “When we got home, she took it to my shop and covered the chest cavity in mesh then dumped the contents of my ashtray inside it. She was so fucking proud of herself. She even went so far as to name that damn thing Herman.” I chuckled, but Levee was so quiet that I had to pull the phone away from my ear to make sure I hadn’t lost the call. “You still there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
I heard her moving around. “Did you just get in bed?”
“Yeah, but like the shower, it’s a poor excuse for yours.” She sighed. “Keep going I want to hear the rest of this. I mean…if you still want to tell me.”
“Levee, I’ll tell you anything you want to know as long as it means you’re with me to keep asking.”
“I’ll have my attorney send over the copyright release on that one too.”
“When should I expect my royalties to hit the bank?” I teased.
“I pay in sexual favors.”
I could almost envision the mischievous twinkle in her whiskey-colored eyes. God, I wanted to see her smile.
Suddenly, I got an idea. “Why are we talking on the phone?”
“Uhh…do you need to go?”
“No! That’s not what I mean. Hang on.” I pulled my phone away from my ear and pressed the button for FaceTime. It went unanswered. I put it back to my ear. “Are you gonna pick up?”
“Have you lost your mind!” she shrieked. “You can’t spring a video chat on a girl! I look like shit.”
“Answer the damn call, Levee.”
“No! I’m serious. I didn’t do my hair when I got out of the shower. I look like an ungroomed poodle. Plus, I can’t even find half of my makeup. There is no way I’m giving you that visual of me while I’m gone for the next month.”
“Levee, I’ve seen you crying with makeup running down your face, asleep and drooling in a car, and with sex mats covering your head. I still wanted to fuck you senseless. I don’t care what the hell you look like right now. Answer the damn phone!”
“Nerp. Not happening. I’ll fix myself up tomorrow.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I bit out in frustration.
“Trust me, this isn’t exactly easy on me. I can’t even remember what you look like. I vaguely remember you being somewhat attractive, but I’m not completely sure. I don’t even have a picture of you.”
“And you’re not going to get one, either,” I lied. I was going to blow up her phone with pictures of me until she sent me one of her. Sure, I could have found a million images of Levee on the Internet, but I really just wanted one of my Designer Shoes.
“Can we please just get back to your story? I’m dying to know about this skeleton.”
I let out a huff, grabbed my laptop off the nightstand, and pulled up Photoshop. “So, after she covered Herman in mesh, she rolled him onto my porch with a huge smile on her face. I couldn’t even argue with her when she declared that, when the skeletons lungs were filled with cigarettes, so were mine. She made me promise to collect all of my butts and deposit them in Herman, and when his chest was full, I had to quit smoking. It was a big chest, so I agreed. I got into the habit of keeping all of my butts and giving them to her at the end of each night.” My heart sped, and my hands, which had been furiously moving over my laptop, froze. “Sometimes I forget she’s gone and I still collect them.”
“Sam,” Levee breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I like talking about her sometimes. I miss her a lot.”
I heard her shifting again, and I tried to imagine her beside me as I worked on my laptop. I had it so fucking bad for this woman.
“I bet she was beautiful.”
“She really was.” I sucked in a deep breath and smiled through the pain. It wasn’t so overwhelming with Levee. And, if I hadn’t already been falling for this amazing woman, that fact alone would have had me jumping in headfirst. “Anyway…anything else you want to know?”
“What’d you have for dinner?” she asked randomly.
“Dinner?”
“Yeah. I’m starving. Someone, who shall remain nameless, forced me to miss dinner with his sexy stomach, remember?” She giggled.
And with that, the pain disappeared completely.
Chapter Nineteen
Levee
I WAS LIKE a kid at summer camp, hiding with the covers over my head to sneak my phone. Mandatory lights out had been hours earlier, but I wasn’t ready to let Sam go, even as my eyelids became heavy with sleep. Over the first few days, they had confiscated my phone while I’d been assessed. Doctor Post had tweaked my antidepressants and taken me off the antianxiety medication all together. I really was feeling better, but managing my life inside the stress-free environment of the center was completely different than managing it on the outside, where millions of people pulled me in different directions. However, I was committed to doing my absolute best, even if it meant drastically changing my life when I was able to go home.
I was supposed to be resting and relaxing while giving my mind and my body a chance to recover, but nothing healed me more than those hours I spent on the phone with Sam.
It was three in the morning before we were both so out of it that we decided to actually hang up. Even with as late as it was, I still felt the loss with a physical ache. I missed him more than ever. But, when my phone pinged with an incoming photo, it was all erased.
At some point during our six-hour phone call, Sam had been busy. On my screen was an image of Sam in a bathing suit, lounging on a beach and looking like a tattooed Greek god. Heat pooled between my legs as I got an eyeful of him for the first time in days. Then a loud laugh escaped my mouth when I noticed a picture of me behind him. I immediately recognized it. It was one of the numerous times I’d accidently made a fool of myself by falling at the most inopportune time. My mouth was hanging open, my hair flying out to the sides in the most unattractive way possible, and absolute fear covered my distorted face.
I was no longer on the red carpet where it had originally been snapped. I’d been edited out of my dress and into a bikini, but my heels still graced my feet. Only, now, they were covered in sand, and I was falling only a few feet from Sam. I’d forgotten that he was a graphic designer, and if this picture was any indication, he was really fucking good. It was a seamless rendering that definitely gave me a good laugh, but my heart soared when I read the caption at the bottom.
You could look like this every single day and I’d still want to see you. Pick up the phone tomorrow.
I lo
oked at that picture for over an hour, until I fell asleep with my phone in my hand and a smile on my face.
Over the following weeks, Sam and I talked every single day. Yes, via FaceTime. He also sent me a new picture of us “together” each night when we hung up. They were all different, but he always looked like an Adonis and I always looked like shit. How he found that many terrible pictures of me was alarming. But there was always a funny message at the bottom that made the momentary embarrassment totally worth it. In Sam’s nightly images, we were traveling the globe together. From the Eiffel Tower to the Grand Canyon, I’d fallen on my face all around the world.
My favorite picture of all was us in Thelma and Louise’s green Thunderbird convertible. Sam had the signature scarf around his neck, which should have been humorous, but with those tattooed forearms resting on the steering wheel, he was still sexy as hell. For me, he had used a photo from when I had been riding a rollercoaster with a little girl from the Make-A-Wish Foundation. My mouth was wide open, and a terror-filled scream was being forced from my throat. He’d even gone so far as to add a bug flying into my mouth when he’d placed me in the car beside him. When I noticed that the front license plate read Sam & Levee 4-eva, I melted.
I was falling fast for that man, and I could only hope I was taking him with me.
A month ago, I had been standing on a bridge, contemplating jumping off, but with him at my side, even just in a Photoshopped car, I’d never been happier in my life. And it scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t sure how I’d ever be able to cope if he didn’t feel the same. Drugs might not have been my problem, but I was absolutely addicted to the quiet high he offered my mind.
For two full weeks, Sam and I lived in a bubble of new-relationship bliss.
It wasn’t all laughs and smiles, but that was what made it feel real.
I loved bickering with him. We’d found a ton of trivial crap to disagree about. But that’s all it was—meaningless crap. Slowly, it became obvious that Sam and I did in fact come from different worlds. But it also became blindingly obvious that that was exactly why I needed to hold on to him.
Sam: Umm…why did four $6,000 guitars just get delivered to my house?
Me: It was my subtle way of telling you I want some bookshelves.
Sam: With brand new custom Gibsons? Are you insane?! I could have gotten broken guitars for fifty bucks at the music store.
Me: Slow down, cheapo. Those are my favorite. I use them exclusively.
Sam: No.
Me: No what?
Sam: No, I’m not destroying $24,000 worth of guitars.
Me: Why the hell not? You can’t return them now.
Sam: The fuck I can’t, princess.
Me: That was a low blow, asshole.
Me: Really? You’re just gonna disappear now?
He didn’t respond for three full unnerving hours. But, when he finally did, a photo of two guitar bookshelves leaning against his bedroom wall preceded it. They appeared to be generic acoustics—definitely not my Gibsons.
Sam: I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m an asshole. It’s just hard when your woman has Gibson taste and a thrift store man. I made these for you last week. I’ll start on your guitars tonight.
Sam: P.S. I’m really sorry about the princess thing.
Sam: P.P.S. I’m a dick.
Sam: P.P.P.S. Here’s a picture of my cock to make up for it.
Attached was a photo of a chicken.
Sam: P.P.P.P.S. I named him Curtis.
Sam: P.P.P.P.P.S. I can’t wait for you to meet him.
I didn’t respond for half an hour—because I was sobbing. Of course I felt bad for having made him feel like he was my thrift store man, but that wasn’t why I was crying.
He’d already made me bookshelves.
And implied that I was his woman. A fact I knew but had never actually been verified.
And he’d made me laugh when I should’ve still been pissed.
But, most of all, I was crying because I knew that that was the exact moment I’d fallen in love with Sam Rivers.
There was no going back now—not that I wanted to.
I also knew I couldn’t make it two more weeks without him.
Me: Come see me.
Sam: Tell me when and where.
Me: Tomorrow. It’s family day and Henry is supposed to fly up, but I really need to see you.
Sam: Then I’ll be there, Levee.
I squealed like a teenager as my heart exploded in my chest.
He’s coming.
Sam: I’ll see if I can find someone to watch Curtis.
I burst into laughter with tears still sliding down my cheeks.
Yeah, I’m absolutely and hopelessly lost in this man.
Chapter Twenty
Sam
I WAS AT the airport an hour after Levee had asked me to come see her. Before that moment, I hadn’t even known visiting her was an option or I probably would have taken up residence in Maine weeks ago. The trip was long, and I flew standby the whole way, but finally, at seven the next morning, after having slept in the Philly Airport, I was back in the same state as my Designer Shoes. I grabbed my rental car and headed directly to the address she had texted me the night before.
At nine o’clock on the dot, I marched through the doors and up to the receptionist desk.
“Hi. I’m Sam Rivers. I’m here to see—”
The thin blonde sitting behind the desk immediately cut me off. “For privacy, we don’t use guests’ names.”
“Oh, right,” I said awkwardly, trying to figure out how to explain to her why I was there without using Levee’s name. “Well, my name is Sam—”
“Rivers. Yes, I got that. Please allow me a minute to look you up.” She smiled, but it came off as more of a grimace.
Well, isn’t she a bitchy ray of sunshine.
I anxiously tapped the toe of my boot as I imagined Levee sitting somewhere nearby. She was probably chewing her manicured thumbnail into submission. I dropped my gaze to my shoes in an attempt to cover the shit-eating grin I was hopeless to hide.
A deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “Please come with us, sir.”
Two men in dark suits, who might as well have stepped out of the movie Men in Black, suddenly appeared at my side.
I nodded with a smile, my stomach bubbling with excitement as I followed them through a set of double doors.
She’s so close.
Only she wasn’t close at all.
They led me to a set of glass doors that opened to the back parking lot.
“Uhh…” I mumbled when Agent K shoved it wide.
“You’re not permitted on the premises, Mr. Rivers. If you return, the local authorities will be notified immediately. This is your first and only warning.”
“I’m sorry. There must be confusion.” I lowered my voice to a whisper as I said, “Levee Williams is expecting me.”
“There’s no guest here by that name. Please don’t make this difficult,” Agent J bit out.
My anticipation quickly swung to anger as disappointment settled like acid in my stomach. Stepping forward, I seethed, “She gave me the address. I’m not leaving without seeing her.”
“Get. Out.” He snapped a finger to the parking lot and leveled me with a menacing glare.
I didn’t budge. Fuck this asshole if he thinks he’s keeping me from her. “Find. Levee.”
“I won’t ask you to leave again,” Agent K declared as J slipped around behind me.
“Fuck you.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Levee’s number.
She answered on the first ring, and if my head hadn’t been about to explode, I would have given her shit about it.
“Are you here yet?” she asked.
“Yes, and no. Security is kicking me out.”
“What?” she shrieked so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Goodbye, sir,” Agent J growled, shoving me toward the doors.
I stood my ground as rage b
oiled in my veins. I poked a hard finger into his brick wall of a chest. “Don’t fucking touch me again.”
“Sam, what the hell is going on? Let me talk to them.”
Gritting my teeth, I lifted the phone. “Levee wants to talk to you.”
They glanced at each other in unspoken agreement.
Neither took the phone.
One did take my arm though—and twisted it behind my back. The other held the door open while he shoved me out of it. My phone skidded across the concrete as I stumbled forward, barely staying on my feet as the door shut and locked behind me.
What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?
The muscle in my jaw twitched as I fought to regain some sort of composure that didn’t have me shattering that fucking glass door and killing two men. Then I heard Levee’s voice coming from my phone on the ground.
“Sam!”
Snatching it up, I was only able to grit out, “I’m going to jail. It may be for a long fucking time.” I stomped toward the door and banged on the glass, but the MIB had already walked away.
“What? Sam, stop and tell me what’s going on!”
“I just got fucking thrown out for trying to come visit you!” I shouted. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, fully aware that this wasn’t her fault. “I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized.
“Just calm down, okay? Let me go talk to them, and I’ll call you back. Don’t. Leave.”
“Funny. That’s not what they said as they tossed me on the street,” I snapped then sighed. “Sorry. Again.”
“It’s okay. You want me to have them fired?” she asked in jest, and if I could have slowed the adrenaline pumping through my system, I probably would have smiled.
I raked a hand through my hair and huffed, “That would be fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Consider it done. Now, chill out and I’ll see you in a minute.”
Chill out.
Yeah, that wasn’t at all what I wanted to do, but with the promise of seeing her in a minute still ringing in my ears, I managed to pack it down.
