by Ryan Field
“I strongly advise you to stay away from that property,” Robert said. His lips twitched and his voice wavered.
Karla crossed to where Avenir was standing and patted his hand. “Don’t be too disappointed, dear. After you’ve seen it, we can call our realtor and have her show you something more suitable. Oceanview is a teardown.”
He’d already made his mind up about buying Oceanview; he wanted to buy the place where Sienna’s ancestors had lived. Besides, the sale was already in motion. All he had to do was sign the papers. But he smiled and said, “I appreciate the offer.” He also wanted to tell her to mind her own business, then show her his fangs and watch her scream. There was something about Karla he didn’t like or trust. Avenir could control minds; he couldn’t read them. But he had good intuition.
Then Karla and Robert said goodnight and told him that Larson would show him to his room. Karla said that Sienna had already removed his luggage from his car, and that she’d parked his car in one of the garages.
When Karla and Robert were gone, they crossed into the center hall and Larson said, “Too bad you’re so tired. I’m going out to a local place for a drink and I was going to ask you to join me.”
Avenir thought for a moment, and said, “You know, I think I’d like that. I’m not that tired.” He’d been planning to go out anyway, to see if he could find out where Sienna worked part-time. He figured this was better. He’d be able to pump Larson for information instead of sneaking around to find it on his own.
Larson slapped his back and said, “Now that’s more like it. I was beginning to think you were just as dull as everyone else around here.”
Chapter Two
Larson drove a Porsche Boxter, and he wasn’t a very good driver. They screeched out of the driveway and onto the dark road with such violent jerks Avenir had to grab the door handle to keep his balance. Larson hadn’t had much to drink. But he was uncoordinated and impulsive behind the wheel of a car. He drove too fast and his timing between the clutch and the gear shift was off, which caused the car to pull back and lurch forward whenever he switched gears. He couldn’t seem to keep the car on his side of the yellow line. And when another car approached, he refused to switch off his bright lights no matter how many times the other driver flashed him.
When they pulled up to the bar, Larson didn’t think twice about parking in a handicapped space near the front door. Avenir was going to suggest they move the car, but when he looked up and saw where he was his mouth opened wide and he blinked a few times. They were parked in front of a place that he remembered well from his youth, an elegant old inn that was filled with local history. It was one of the oldest buildings in Glendale Harbor, and the last time he’d been there it was a perfect example of a well- preserved New England clapboard. A sign over the door read, “Applejacks Bar,” but he remembered it as The General Langston Inn.
But now the white paint was chipped and peeling, black shutters were either missing or hanging from the windows slantwise, and one of the front windows had been boarded up and painted with a thin, scratchy coat of whitewash that looked gray. A blinking pink and purple neon sign over the front entrance read, “Bar,” and a man was hanging over the front rail throwing up.
“What is this place?” Avenir said.
Larson smiled and opened his door. “It’s a real dump. But it’s close to home, all the locals come here, and the drinks are cheap. Sienna’s brother, Jaydin, and his partner, Mickey, own it. Jaydin’s not the brightest bulb in town and Mickey is one of those shady types from New York. But it’s all we have here. Until they came along, no one wanted to touch the place and you had to drive all the way to Bar Harbor.” As he got out of the car, he said, “C’mon. It’s not that bad, and I always wind up getting lucky before the night is over.”
They stepped around the guy who was throwing up and crossed through the entrance. The former polished mahogany bar in the main room was now painted black and topped with a dented copper counter. It was dark and crowded inside; the music was over twenty years old and the floor felt sticky. Larson led them to two empty barstools asked Avenir, “What would you like?”
Avenir stared down the length of the room. There was a pool table at one end and a burly guy with a beard was just bending over to make his shot. He was fat and half of his large buttocks was showing. Avenir placed his hand on the back of the bar stool. The floors were uneven and the bar stool wobbled. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he said.
A woman on the other side of the bar was reaching for a glass. Her back was facing them. Larson shouted, “We’ll have two vodka tonics.” He didn’t say “please,” and his tone was aggressive.
Avenir sat down on the barstool and leaned forward on his elbows. The woman behind the bar reaching for the glass was wearing a short, black dress and she had beautiful legs. When she turned around and faced them, Avenir sat back in his seat and smiled fast. The woman was Sienna, and this was where she worked part-time. He tried hard not to stare at her chest, but he took a quick look anyway and whistled to himself.
She raised her right eyebrow and placed two white paper cocktail napkins on front of them. Then she leaned forward and asked, “Would you like them on the rocks or neat?”
“Rocks,” Larson said, reaching into his back pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Just put them on my tab,” he said.
Avenir frowned at the cigarette, then he leaned forward and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Sienna,” he said. “Do you work here every night?”
Sienna waved cigarette smoke away from her face and turned to Avenir. But before she had a chance to open her mouth Larson said, “She’s always working or reading a book. My stepsister doesn’t do anything else.”
Sienna gave Larson a dirty look and sighed. “I’ll get your drinks,” she said, then she disappeared to the other end of the dark bar.
When she was gone, Avenir said, “Sienna is your stepsister?” He couldn’t figure out the connection.
Larson took a long drag from the cigarette and exhaled in Avenir’s face. “Not exactly. My father was Sienna and Jaydin’s stepfather for a short time. He was married to Sienna’s mother, Helena Harrington, for less than a year before she died. She shot herself in the head one night and no one ever knew why. Sienna was with her, but she was too young to remember anything, which is probably a good thing. My father was out of town and it was quite a shock.” He tapped Avenir on the shoulder and said, “And she killed herself in Oceanview, the house you want to look at tomorrow. My father was so devastated that he remarried right away. And I came along a year after that. We grew up together, sort of. Sienna is four years older than I am, and Jaydin is three.”
“What happened to Sienna and Jaydin’s father?”
“Killed in a boating accident when Jaydin and Sienna were very young,” he said.
“Why is Sienna working for your family now?” Avenir asked. He knew the Harringtons had plenty of money. Why wasn’t she living on the Harrington estate?
“My mother and father gave her a job when she turned eighteen, so she could work her way through college,” he said. “And now she lives in a small apartment over the garages.”
“Wasn’t that nice of them,” Avenir said. He thought they should have put her through college and treated her like a stepdaughter.
“Her mother left her nothing,” Larson said. “Nothing for Jaydin, either. So my father had to raise them both. Jaydin somehow managed to scrape up the money to open this bar with his lover, Mickey. He took out loans. And as you can see, it’s not exactly a high-end establishment. Jaydin is a good-looking guy, and very decent. But the lover is sleazy. Sienna has a grandmother on her mother’s side who is living in a nursing home not far from here.”
“A grandmother?” Avenir said. The story was becoming difficult to follow, and Larson spoke fast and jumped from one topic to another without pause. It didn’t take Avenir long to figure out that his cousin Larson wasn’t a genius.
Larson nodded. “But t
he grandmother wasn’t around when Sienna’s mother killed herself. She was off in Europe somewhere living the life of a starving artist and didn’t even know her daughter was dead until she came back here looking for her two years ago. By that time the grandmother was almost totally crippled with arthritis and in the beginning stages of dementia. She had to go into a nursing home.”
“Didn’t this maternal grandmother have any money?” Avenir asked.
“Not a penny,” he said. “Sienna’s mother inherited half the Harrington fortune when Sienna’s father was killed in the boating accident,” he said. “But until she met Sienna’s father, she had nothing. Of course Sienna’s maternal grandfather, Bill Blye, is now considered one of the most popular modern artists in the world. But he died before he saw a dime from any of his art, and the family never received anything either.”
From what Avenir could gather, Larson was telling him that Robert LaFramboise had swindled Sienna and her brother out of their family fortune after their mother died, and then raised them as hired help. “It’s a very sad story,” he said.
“The mother should have provided for her children,” Larson said. Then he shrugged his shoulders and lit another cigarette. His voice didn’t sound mean. He was just repeating what he’d been told over the years. “At least my father and mother took them in. They didn’t have to do that. No one else wanted them.”
Avenir shook his head and smiled. Evidently, Larson saw nothing wrong with this picture. “Who pays for the grandmother in the nursing home?” Avenir asked.
But Larson didn’t answer. He noticed a friend at the other end of the room, a woman with long dark hair and tall black stilettos. “Do you mind if I go over there for a minute? I think I’m going to get lucky tonight. You don’t mind, buddy, do you?”
Avenir lifted his hand and said, “I’m fine. Have fun.” He was glad Larson was leaving. He didn’t want Sienna to think he was becoming friendly with such a pompous idiot.
When Larson was gone, Sienna came back with the drinks and said, “I hope you took your own car tonight.”
Avenir tilted his head to the side and asked, “Why?”
“Because your distant cousin Larson isn’t coming back any time soon,” she said. Then she nodded to the woman Larson was talking to and said, “He’ll wind up with her in a room upstairs until mid-morning tomorrow.” Then she gave him an exaggerated smile, put the drinks down, and folded her arms across her chest.
“This is a hotel, too?”
She smiled. “Not exactly, but Mickey does rent rooms out to people who don’t want to go home right away, if you know what I mean.”
“I see.”
“Trust me,” Sienna said, “Larson’s not coming back tonight.”
And Sienna was right. Avenir sat there for the next three hours sipping the same vodka tonic. He watched the bar crowd slowly thin out until he couldn’t find Larson and the woman at all. He thought he saw them get up and walk toward a staircase, and then he didn’t see them again for the rest of the night. A few women came up to Avenir and flirted, but he smiled and stared down at his drink. Jaydin, Sienna’s brother, flirted with him when his partner Mickey wasn’t looking. And Mickey did the same thing when Jaydin wasn’t looking. Avenir was polite. Both Jaydin and Mickey were extremely attractive men if you liked tattoos and body piercing. But Jaydin was interested in someone else that night: Sienna.
He watched every move she made. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her magnificent body. But she made no attempt to speak with him. It was as if he wasn’t even in the room. Everyone else in the bar either flirted or stared at him because he was a new face in a small town, but she continued taking orders and mixing drinks. He was hoping she’d come over and talk, but all she did was ask if he wanted a refill. Each time she asked, he’d lift his hand and tell her he was fine.
At closing time, Avenir left a fifty-dollar bill on the bar and went outside to lean against the front of the building. He waited there until everyone else left the bar and went home. And about a half hour later, Sienna came out the front door and passed without noticing him. She walked to a silver Camaro from the late l970s that was parked in front of a wooded section. The tires on the car were wide and there was a dent in the rear fender. Avenir hadn’t seen a car like that in more than thirty years. When Sienna inserted the key in the door, someone cleared his throat and stepped out of the bushes.
It was a man in his early thirties. He wore a plaid flannel shirt, old jeans and black work boots. He walked to where she was standing and said, “You look good tonight, baby.” His voice was slurred and he had to lean against the trunk of the car to keep his balance.
Sienna stepped away from the car and said, “When are you going to get it through your head that I’m not interested, Carl. Now go home to your wife and leave me the hell alone.”
Avenir appeared instantly, without the slightest sound. When Carl reached for Sienna’s arm, Avenir grabbed his wrist and held it up high. “I think she said she wasn’t interested, buddy,” Avenir said. “And when a lady says something like that it means you need to leave her alone and go back to your wife.”
There was a moment of silence. Avenir continued to hold his wrist in the air, waiting to see his reaction.
Then Sienna shouted. “Let go of him. You’re going to break his arm. What kind of a jerk are you, anyway?”
Avenir let go and Carl jumped back about three feet. He looked at them both, shook his head, and ran back into the woods.
When he was gone, Sienna put her hands on her hips and said, “You could have hurt him. What’s wrong with you?”
Avenir’s eyes became wide and he spread his arms out. “I thought he was going to hurt you. I was just trying to help.”
She shook her head and stared down at her shoes. When she lifted her head again, she said, “First, I know how to take care of myself. I’ve been doing it all my life. And second, he didn’t mean anything. He does this to me about three times a month and he always apologizes the next day. He’d never hurt me.”
“Ah well,” Avenir said, “How was I supposed to know that?” He didn’t understand. He thought he was protecting her from harm. What should he have done? Wait until the guy threw her down on the ground and ripped her clothes off?
“You ask questions before you use your fists, superman,” she said. “If men like you would just learn to do that there would be a lot fewer problems in this world.”
He shrugged. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was only trying to help.” He put hands back in his pockets and stared at his shoes. Then he looked up at her and asked, “What do you mean, men like me?” His lowered his eyebrows and lifted his head high.
“I know your type,” she said. “Good-looking, controlling, tough guys. You always get what you want and you don’t care how you get it. You have a little money, and you think you can get away with anything.”
He stepped closer and said, “You don’t know anything about me.” Then he put his arms around her and kissed her on the lips. He didn’t ask permission and he didn’t hesitate. He wanted to grab her breasts and squeeze them. He wanted to lift her shirt over her head and bury his face in her chest. But he knew, instinctively, he had to move slowly with a woman like Sienna. She was soft and delicate, but she was also strong and filled with self-respect. A woman like her would never allow a stranger to grope her.
She pressed her palms against his chest and tried to push him away. But the longer he kissed, the more she stopped pushing. He felt her heart beating fast, and her heavy breaths brushed against his face. When she lifted her gentle arms and rested her hands on his shoulders, her back arched and she stopped fighting him.
Then a car out on the road screeched around the bend and Sienna’s head jerked back. She pressed her palms to his chest and pushed him off her body. “This is wrong,” she said. “I don’t even know you. I’m never like this.”
He didn’t grab her again. He smiled and said, “I thought it was nice. And I can’t think of a better w
ay to get to know someone.”
She tilted her head and sighed. “I guess you need a ride,” she said. “I can’t leave you here alone in the dark.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Get in,” she said. Her voice was low and serious. It sounded like an order and he wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone. “But keep your hands to yourself. I’m not kidding. I have no intention of kissing you again.”
He laughed and raised his arms. “I won’t touch you,” he said. “I promise.”
When she started the engine, he smiled and tapped the dashboard. “I like this car. You don’t see many like this with rear- wheel drive in this part of the country. It’s classic.”
She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a look. “I don’t buy into hype,” she said. “I’m very practical. When cars like these were built, almost everyone drove with rear- wheel drive and they did just fine. I also drink water from the tap. Besides, this car was all I could afford, and I’ve become very attached to it.”
He laughed. “Hey, I drive a rear-wheel drive Mercedes convertible and I do just fine, too. I’ve always believed it’s not the car that gets through the snow, it’s the driver.”
She looked at him and said, “I don’t usually associate with anyone in the LaFramboise family when I’m not working at the house, but since you’re not really one of them, I’ll make an exception this time.”
He didn’t hear a word she said because he was staring at her beautiful legs. Her soft, pale skin looked so delicate and tender. He wanted to sink his teeth into her stunning thigh and drink her sweet blood with slow, effortless swallows.
