by BWWM Club
“Oh oh, are we in trouble or what?” he said waving his hands as if he was afraid.
“Well, I’d watch out if I were you and be on my best behavior,” Leila said tongue in cheek.
Jonathon laughed again, “I definitely like you.”
“Lucky me,” Leila replied wryly.
“Oh you have no idea,” Jonathon said, his eyes full of mystery and speculation.
Leila frowned at him but he just stared impassively back. And then he smiled.
That was when Leila knew she was in trouble.
Chapter 2
They drew up on the street outside Leila’s apartment block and Jonathon turned to her. “Well, here we are. What floor do you live on?”
Leila looked at him frowning as if puzzled, “I fail to see how that is any of your business,” she said.
Jonathon laughed again. “I just wondered if you might need help getting there. If for example, your apartment building has no lift and you live on the top floor.”
“Well that’s kind of you but I can manage,” Leila said as Mathews opened the door for her. Jonathon opened his own door.
“I’m afraid I must insist,” he said.
Leila was getting irritated. “Like I said, it's not necessary. Now if you would just give me my bike-“
“No way. We have to get that repaired,” Jonathon interrupted. Leila felt like she was being held hostage. She took a deep breath.
“Okay this has gone far enough. Would you just-“ she tried.
“Ms. Masters you are the one who seems not to understand. We have caused you grievous injury by hitting you with our car. We’re not just going to leave you unassisted. What if you collapse? There is no way you’re in any condition to carry your bike anywhere anyway, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to accept our help.”
Leila wanted to bite somebody…really hard. “Fine,” she bit out and then marched into the building. Or tried to anyway. Her ankle would not hold her weight. Before she knew it, Mathews had swept her up in his arms again.
“Excuse me…!” she tried to protest but nobody was listening. Jonathon got the door open and Mathews carried her into the building much to the amusement of passers by. Leila was mortified but what could she do? She ground out her apartment number when asked and tried to just bear the embarrassment stoically. If her mother was okay, she was going to be so bemused. When they reached the door Jonathon turned to her.
“Shall we ring the doorbell or do you have your keys or what?” he asked.
She glared at him reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved her keys. She hesitated a moment, wondering whether to try and open the door herself but he snatched them out of her hands and unlocked the door swinging it open and gesturing at them to precede him. Leila wondered why she wasn’t more afraid of having two strange men in her apartment with no one but a sick mother around.
“Put me down,” she ordered Mathews and he lowered her gently to her feet. She limped away calling for her mother as she went. Nobody answered but when she knocked on her door and opened it her mother was in bed, oxygen mask on, eyes closed. If it wasn’t for the loud sound of her breathing, Leila’s heart would have stopped with dread. She opened her mouth to call out but then closed it again. She figured her mother could rest while she whipped her up some soup.
“What’s wrong with her?” a voice asked from behind her startling her quite badly. She turned around on one foot to glare at Jonathon.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped at him. Jonathon took a step back his face falling.
“I’m sorry, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall…and you looked worried so...” he said.
Leila stared at him, “How old are you?”
Jonathon looked up at her in surprise, “What?”
“Sometimes you act like a ten year old with poor impulse control,” she said then instantly regretted it. She didn’t know him well enough to be making these types of judgments. He opened his mouth to say something but she got there before him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Jonathon laughed wryly, “Actually you’re not the first person to tell me that.”
“Really?” she asked mostly to make up for being rude.
“Yeah. My grandfather says that all the time. Not in those exact words of course but…” he shrugged self-deprecatingly.
Leila didn’t know whether to commiserate or laugh. The sounds emanating from the room changed. Her mother’s breathing got quieter; Leila turned around to see what was up.
“Leila?” her mother said hoarsely.
“Yes mom, I’m here,” Leila said limping forward.
“What happened to you?” she asked faintly.
“We hit her with our car but she’s okay,” Jonathon piped up with the answer. Not that anybody asked him.
“You hit –“ Raychelle Masters began to struggle up on her elbow but Leila hurried forward and pushed her back down, ignoring the pain in her leg.
“Lay down mama, I’m fine. I’m just gonna fix you some soup okay. Would you like some?” Leila said striving like hell to distract her mother who was still looking distressed.
“Are you sure you’re okay Leila?” she asked.
“I’m fine. I promise mama. Now lie back so I can get you that soup,” she said straightening up to glare at Jonathon before striving to walk out without limping. She was concentrating so hard she didn’t realize that Jonathon was not with her until she was halfway down the hall. She looked back at the open door of her mother’s room, expecting that he would appear at any moment but nobody did. She hesitated between going to the kitchen to warm up some soup or going back and dragging Jonathon out of her mother’s room. In the end, she went with the soup; she didn’t think Jonathon would hurt her mother…
*****
Jonathon sat down on the chair next to Leila’s mother, taking in the oxygen tank and the labored breathing and the general weakness of the woman before him.
“Is it lung cancer?” he asked.
She glared at him as if he’d done something really wrong so Jonathon went over his words, searching for the faux pas.
“What?” he said at last when he couldn’t find it. Leila’s mother dislodged her oxygen mask.
“You go around asking total strangers what’s ailing them all the time boy?” she asked.
Jonathon straightened up. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Hi. My name is Jonathon Leary. Pleasure to meet you. And you are?”
“Raychelle Masters. What are you doing here boy?” she asked and then put her mask back on so she could breath.
“Hello Raychelle. I thought I’d sit here with you since your daughter seems more worried about your health than her own. We hit her bike, not hard, but she did fall down. We wanted to take her to the hospital but she insisted on coming here instead…to see you I guess. Do you have a nurse or something? Or are you all alone?”
Raychelle glared, moving her oxygen mask. “What would I need a nurse for? I can take perfectly good care of myself!”
Jonathon smiled, “I see where your daughter gets it.”
Raychelle gave him the thousand yard stare but chose to save her breath rather than ask the obvious question. They sat in curiously companionable silence until Leila limped back into the room with a tray of soup and bread as well as a cup of fresh juice. She glared at Jonathon just on principle before setting the tray down on the bedside table and perching on the side of the bed.
“Can you eat a little?” she asked her mother.
Raychelle moved the mask off her face and nodded, reaching out for the bowl. Leila beat her to it. She spooned some of the soup up and held it out to her mom who glared at her before opening her mouth.
“I can feed myself,” she growled raspily.
“Sure you can mama; still it’d really make me feel better if you let me feed you,” Leila said soothingly as she cut a piece of bread off and dipped it in the soup until it was nice and soggy. She held it out to her mother who opened her mouth ob
ediently.
When the meal was finished, Leila glanced at Jonathon who was still sitting in the chair, staring at them. She lifted her brow inquiringly, wondering why he was still here.
“Can we take you to the hospital now?” he asked. Leila sighed tiredly as her mother turned to glare at her.
“Go Leila,” she whispered.
“I can’t leave you alone like this,” Leila said.
“Call Sheila then; or Carlyle from next door. I’m sure I heard him playing his loud music this morning. He must be back from touring.”
Leila hesitated; Carlyle was friendly enough; he worked as a roadie for a rock band and when they weren’t on tour he was a bartender at a club. Which meant he was home during the day. Still Leila hated to disturb him; he would come if asked and sit with Raychelle but that meant he wasn’t resting or whatever he did before work.
Sheila had class, Peter had school; their mother was a nurse at the local hospital but she was probably working or sleeping…there just wasn’t anyone who was free to watch her mother all day. And what with the looming hospital bills, Leila didn’t think she’d be able to employ a full time nurse.
Leila took a deep breath. She had to be Scarlett on this one and think about it tomorrow. Right now she was injured, she had to get back to work and she couldn’t leave her mother alone. She limped to the door and opened it. As soon as she did, Mathews was there, hand on her arm.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Leila sighed and pointed at the door across from them, “There.”
Mathews released her arm and patted it, indicating she should stay where she was. He walked to the opposite door and knocked. Carlyle opened the door with a smile on his face. Obviously he was expecting someone else; his face fell significantly when he saw the six foot one Nordic male standing politely in front of him.
“Er…” he said.
“Hey Carlyle,” Leila called from her doorway.
Carlyle’s smile returned at full wattage, “Hey Leila! How are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
“Great. What’s up?”
“I have a favor to ask,” Leila said.
“Hit me,” Carlyle replied sliding past Mathews and closing his door and then coming toward her.
“Could you possibly stay with my mother this afternoon? She’s not feeling too well and I have to go back to work.”
“Sure thing doll, not a problem.”
Leila sighed with relief. “I owe you one Carlyle”, she said gratefully.
“Ah, fuggedaboutit,” he said strolling into the apartment and immediately running into Jonathon. “Hey dude,” he said and his eyes slid to Leila for an explanation.
“This is Jonathon, and Mathews, they kind of hit me with their car,” she said wryly.
Carlyle’s face instantly frowned with concern, “What? When?”
“Just now actually,” Leila said sheepishly.
“Get out. Are you okay?” Carlyle asked coming forward to touch her arm.
“I’m fine. A little banged up. Nothing some whiskey won’t cure,” she said.
“I’ll have it waiting for you when you get home,” he promised with a light pat on her shoulder.
*****
Mathews and Jonathon insisted on driving her back to work after she’d cleaned up, wrapped her ankle in a bandage and changed her clothes. They insisted on taking her bike with them to be repaired, promising to have it back to her by the end of the next day.
“That guy Carlyle…is he your boyfriend?” Jonathon inquired.
Leila just fixed him with a look but did not deign to reply. As they stopped in front of the office building housing her office, Leila tensed, wondering if they would insist on escorting her to her desk. But Mathews just let her out of the car and saluted her as she limped into the foyer. She waved at them, heaving a sigh of relief when they drove away. Talk about persistent…
“Leila! Your 2pm has been waiting for half an hour,” her assistant said standing up to meet her.
“Oh, where is she?” Leila asked.
“Conference room,” Martha said.
“Okay then. Back to work,” Leila said collecting her file and limping away.
*****
Leila decided to get herself checked at the local clinic before going home. Her leg was sprained and she was advised to stick to sensible shoes for the next few weeks. Her arm did not need stitches just some gentian violet. They gave her some antibiotics just in case and turned her loose.
Carlyle was waiting with the whiskey as promised and her mother was feeling well enough to sit up in the living room and watch TV without losing her breath. The oxygen tank was next to her just in case but according to Carlyle they’d had a great afternoon. The lingering smell of pot permeated the apartment and Leila studied her mother and Carlyle suspiciously. Had they been smoking the stuff? And how would that affect her mother’s chest. Still, her mother was smiling for the first time since she collapsed so she wasn’t sweating it too hard.
She downed the first glass of whiskey and then lay back and put her feet up. Carlyle had been kind enough to whip up a casserole, so dinner was taken care of. They sat around shooting the breeze, eating and drinking. Carlyle told them about life on the road and how much sex he allegedly had with fangirls looking for access to the band. Raychelle called bullshit but Leila was willing to take him at his word. After all what did it hurt if he was exaggerating a little. No females were hurt in the making of his yarns so…
*****
“Mom, I think I’ve found her,” Jonathon said when he spoke to his mother on the phone later that night.
“Found who?” Jaime Leary asked, obviously poised to be either excited or perturbed.
“The girl; the one who I can marry,” Jonathon said.
“What makes you say that? Because the last three times you told me you’d found someone they turned out to be a bust…don’t make me say Britney Marshall dear,” Jaime said.
Jonathon winced, “Please mother, no need to go there. This one’s different.”
“They’re all different. What was the one with the red hair called?” she reminded him. Jonathon closed his eyes.
“At least give me the benefit of the doubt that I learn from my experiences,” Jonathon said.
“Three times Jonny! Three.” Jaime repeated.
“Okay, well you don’t have to take my word for it, come to Atlanta.”
“Not right now dear, you know your father’s memorial is coming up. The Widows, Orphans and Disabled Firemen’s Fund is holding an event this weekend. Did you forget?”
“No,” Jonathon mumbled because he actually had. His mother was very active in that community which was great, it kept the memory of his father alive. But it was also terrible because it kept the memory of his father alive. Sometimes Jonathon felt like they were living in a bubble situated just post-9/11 where they re-lived over and over again the day his father failed to come home from work. He still missed his father; his booming laugh and the way he was always ready for anything, be it wiping the dishes after dinner, playing soccer with Jonny after school or rushing into a collapsing building to save its occupants. He always felt inadequate to fill his father’s huge shoes; he just wasn’t the man his father had been.
Of course, this was severely reinforced by his grandfather who treated him like an errant child, not to be trusted with adult business. James Maitland was a movie star whose star had shone bright in the nineteen forties and fifties. He’d starred in several Hollywood features and made a buttload of money which he then proceeded to invest really wisely. As a result, he’d turned a few million dollars into a billion dollar empire which had its hand in several cakes. He was behind the production of some major box office hits, plus several emerging businesses that had grown to be household names. He’d never married, but one of the starlets he’d slept with had gifted him with a daughter in the late sixties. They weren’t exactly close but Jaime Maitland received all the perks that having
a billionaire for a father could provide…except having that father in her life on a regular basis. Her mother was not a successful actress and eventually died of a drug overdose when Jaime was eighteen. She moved to New York from Los Angeles to attend the Lee Strasburg Theater and Film Institute at the aegis of her father. Mostly though, she just wanted to get as far away from him and the life as possible. She’d grown up surrounded by Hollywood excess, sex, drugs and rock n’ roll and she was sick of it. She had a love of the arts and wanted to do something in that line but she wanted to do it away from the empty noise and artificiality of her life in Los Angeles.
She moved into a studio apartment in downtown New York and got a job at an art gallery. She and her school friends worked hard and played hard, frequenting the dive bars in SoHo over the weekend, wanting to mingle with the bohemians there. One such evening, she was on a date; having coffee with a man she’d met at the art gallery when she looked up and met the eyes of their waiter.
“And what can I get for you today?” he asked. He had piercing blue eyes, black curly hair and the body of a rugby player. Jaime’s mouth went dry.
“Er,” she said.
“We’ll have two cappuccinos and we’ll share a chocolate cake slice thank you,” her date cut in. The waiter, his name was Tommy Leary, did not break eye contact with her the whole time her date was speaking.
“Coming right up,” he said as he walked away. Jaime’s eyes couldn’t help following the sway of his extremely tight ass… until her date startled her by grabbing her arm. He began to regale her with tales of his yacht and sailing on the weekends and his last trip to the Bahamas. Jaime listened politely, all the while making plans to come back as soon as possible and find Tommy Leary again.
She came back the next day and asked for him by name. He emerged from the kitchen, a puzzled frown on his face, clearly not understanding what was happening. When his eyes fell on her however, the frown cleared and he smiled.
“You came back,” he said.
“Of course I did,” she replied.
Tommy straightened up, “I’m off at six, would you like to have a beer with me?”
Jaime smiled happily at him, “I thought you’d never ask.”
