Concierge

by Stella Barcelona

  But that wasn’t the reason her internal thermometer was nosediving. Her deep inner chill was due to Victor Morrissey and his gift from hell that kept on giving.

  The burning log’s crackles and pops sounded loud in the otherwise quiet house. It shouldn’t have taken so long to finish the task, but watching flames eat her words had become hypnotic.

  The despair that had inspired her words was far better as a memory than a current feeling. With each fresh stack of pages that she placed in the fire, her gaze caught phrases before they were incinerated.

  ‘I can’t get the sour taste of him out of my mouth.’

  ‘A blowjob for a devil.’

  ‘I have no hope.’

  ‘I’m going to kill myself. With Dad gone, there’s no reason not to.’

  ‘Pic says, See You Tomorrow. And I say, ‘Yes’. Though I don’t mean it.’

  As her eyes absorbed that last line, she breathed deeply, smiling as she savored the crisp, comforting essence of burning pine logs. Because now she meant it.

  Please God, keep Pic warm and safe tonight.

  Tearing her attention from the burning words, Andi reached for a fresh stack of pages. She placed the stack in the fire, then put a fresh log on top. As the pages burned, she ran the edge of her box cutter along the spine of the final journal. She slid the empty leather binding to the pile on the library floor. She made two stacks of paper, and fed the fire the first one.

  Only one stack to go.

  When she’d come down from the third floor, at midnight, the door of the guest room Gabe had claimed was shut, without a sliver of light underneath. She had guessed he was inside, sleeping.

  She’d gone into the package room for the box cutter. Across the hallway, two agents had been at desks in the security room, munching on Gabe’s delicious cookies. Neither agent was Gabe. When she’d first set the fire, then sat on the floor with the journals and her box cutter, the bald-headed agent had appeared in the doorway of the library, nodded to her, then drifted away.

  Now, footsteps sounded on the hardwood floors in the center hallway. She assumed they belonged to one of the other agents. Instead of glancing at the doorway, she remained focused on the fire, as she fed it the last stack of pages. Over the last couple of years, she’d gotten used to the patterns that came with having the agents in her house. They came with soft footsteps, they paused for a second, and they went. But she’d heard footsteps approach, and she hadn’t heard them go away. And the time between then and now was too long to be the short pause for their visual check.

  Heart pounding, she turned and saw Gabe standing in the wide doorway to the library. Wearing a black leather jacket, and black clothes, his hair was slick with moisture, as though he’d been outside in the rain for a while. Puzzlement killed the usual light in his eyes. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “What are you doing?” He jutted his chin at the pile of black journal covers.

  “Those are journals. Well, they were. Those are just the covers.”

  “You’re burning the pages?”

  Clearly, he was searching for more of an explanation. She stood up awkwardly. Her legs had stiffened. “Yes. I’d never reread them and I’d never, ever, allow anyone else to read them. Destroying them seemed like the best thing to do. It’s a cleansing, of sorts. I’m taking your advice. Being me. It felt right to do this. Tonight.”

  He walked to her. The muscles in his jaw were set, and his eyes were impossible to read. It was as though he was holding something back, or searching for more of an explanation. His seeming reticence puzzled her, because she knew enough about the man to know that he was nothing if not intuitive.

  In the face of his silence, she continued, “There’s no reason to keep them. They’re just an example of me wallowing in self-pity. Tonight, after we talked, I realized the journals were holding me down, the words memorializing things I’d prefer to forget.” She shrugged. “It occurred to me that shredding would’ve been less work, but I was cold. Burning the pages seemed a more fitting ending. Not the cover, though. I would think burning leather would smell a little like…”

  Drawing a deep breath, she fought for the words. “The odor of burning skin.” She shuddered. “So I didn’t throw the bindings into the fire. Dammit, Gabe, my rambling indicates I’m having a problem, here. You’re looking at me like…I don’t know what, and whatever it is, you don’t get to look at me like that. Like you’re worried about God knows what, because I really should just be your job. Not a worry.”

  As her words trailed off, they stood in silence, eyes on each other. The only sounds in the room were the crackle and pop of the fire. He looked like there were about a million things he wanted to say, and he damn well seemed to be weighing each one.

  She figured he was just surprised. Justifiably surprised. It wasn’t every night that someone came across another person having a bonfire with journal pages.

  Then he suddenly shook it all off. Instantly, the serious man in black became Gabe again. He smiled slightly and an easy-going light filtered into his eyes. He gave her a slight nod. “It’s just that Agent Marks gave me the latest status report. He said you were burning pages of books in the library. I wasn’t sure what was going on. And this is really something I didn’t expect. But—” He shrugged, his gaze on her. “You look fine to me.”

  “I am. And if you don’t mind my rambling—”

  “Not at all—”

  “I need to say what’s on my mind. All those things you said in the workout room were wonderful. I love your idea of me just being me. Ever since I walked out of there, as a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about it. The very idea is empowering. Me. No filters. So that’s what I’m doing now. Burning the journals, because they needed to go. And I’m glad I’m seeing you, because I wanted to tell you, you’re free to go too. If this is getting too weird for you, leave my job.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to leave?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Good. Because I don’t want to leave. Like I told you before, you can always get rid of me in a professional capacity by firing me.” A bemused smile played at his lips. “But that no longer means you’d be getting rid of me. In the meantime, I’m happy to be here. Thrilled, as a matter of fact.”

  “I’m not sure you’re understanding how weird this could get. I’ve never even known the agent’s names, for God’s sake. And I don’t blame you for being puzzled at what I was doing.

  Still, why should I explain what the hell I’m doing in my own house? I should be able to burn my journals if I want. I should be able to burn the goddamn place down without explaining myself. Not to you, or any of the other agents. So I want to make myself goddamn clear here—I don’t plan on explaining my behavior to anyone.”

  “Okay. No explanations for any behavior. No matter how strange. Got it, Head Honcho. Understood, Andi.” He arched an eyebrow. “That cover everything?”

  Sighing in exasperation, she leaned forward to pick up the covers so she could trash them. “Yes.”

  “Good. Because I’ve picked up strays all my life, and, if I do say so myself, I hit the mother lode tonight. I’ve set him up in the guesthouse. I figured he’d be more comfortable there, without you hovering over his every cough. After all, the kid’s been living on the streets. Used to being on his own.”

  His words registered, igniting a wild, impossible hope. She dropped the journal covers on the floor. “Seriously?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with his broad smile. “Yeah.”

  She wanted to kiss him. In gratitude. In appreciation, because, dammit, he looked so pleased with himself for giving her something he knew she really, really wanted. She’d never met a man with his brand of chivalry, nor had she met anyone with his kind of persuasive power. “How on earth did you pull off this miracle?”

  “Truth is, he’s really sick and he wanted to be here. We arrived about twenty minutes ago. I got him settled, and I contacted
a doctor friend of Brandon’s, who works from time to time for Black Raven. He’s used to calls at odd hours. He’s on his way.”

  She ran past him, down the hall, and through the mudroom. Hands shaking, she couldn’t unlock the back door fast enough, but Gabe was there to help. She’d forgotten to put on shoes, and almost slipped on the damp bricks of the courtyard that separated her house from the guesthouse. Gabe righted her by gripping her arm, then she was in the guesthouse. Momentarily still, with her heart pounding, she was surprised to find the first floor dark. And quiet.

  “Upstairs.” Gabe said, flicking on a light.

  Andi took the steps two at a time. The loft-style bedroom, with its adjoining bathroom, made up the entire second floor. Slowing when she reached the top stair, she froze, drinking in the sight that she thought she’d never see.

  The bedside lamp, and the one in the corner, were both on, illuminating Pic. He was sprawled out on his back on the queen-size bed. Someone had removed the white-linen covered duvet and folded it on one of the two chairs in the corner. The quilt and top sheet were folded down, but Pic wasn’t under them. Sound asleep, he was barefoot and fully clothed, as if he’d only been capable of making it as far as the bed before running out of juice.

  Andi’s heart squeezed at the sight of his flushed, sweaty face. Without his defenses up, he looked so young and vulnerable.

  “He fell asleep before I came to get you,” Gabe, at her side, whispered.

  Turning to him, she blinked back happy tears. She stepped closer, and lifted shaking hands to his arms. Pressing her palms on his biceps, steadying herself in his warmth, she tried to control the roiling emotions that had her almost sobbing in joy and gratitude. Resting her forehead against Gabe’s chest, she breathed in deeply. The scent of the fresh outdoors that surrounded him mingled with the aroma of burning wood and paper that was on her. Drawing strength and calmness from him, she took a few more breaths and lifted her face. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

  He touched an index finger to her cheek and caught a happy tear, as his eyes drank her in. Voice gruff, he said, “You just did. To date, that might be the best thank you I’ve ever gotten.” He gestured with his head to the bed. “Make some noise on the way over. Try not to startle him.”

  She froze. “Maybe I shouldn’t wake him.”

  “He’s got to get up before the doctor gets here, and he’s sleeping pretty deep. Don’t want him to open his eyes with a stranger in the room, when he might not even remember where he is.”

  As she hesitated, Gabe did a slight knock on the wall. Then another, this one louder. Groaning, Pic turned to the sound, but his eyes remained closed. Approaching the bed, she saw that his black eye was a solid blob of swollen, purplish black flesh. Over his cheekbone, it faded to a dark greenish-yellow, matching a hue she used to paint the moisture-fed slime that grew on bricks. The side of his face that wasn’t bruised was flushed pink with fever. Each breath was ragged and harsh. His exhales caught, then rattled. His long blond hair was damp.

  Gabe rapped harder on the wall.

  Pic opened his eyes. He tensed, then started to sit up. When he focused on Andi, he let his head fall back on the pillow. “Hey, you.”

  Kneeling at the bedside, she touched his forehead. He felt unnaturally hot on her fingertips. “Hey.”

  “Thanks for sending the big guy out for me. It’s freezing out there.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I didn’t send him out. Big guy did that on his own.”

  He glanced at her, then looked over her shoulder to Gabe.

  “No kidding?”

  Andi smiled. “No kidding.”

  “Damn. Don’t tell him I said this,” Pic said, giving Andi a weak smile, and dropping his voice to a whisper, “maybe he’s not so bad after all.”

  “Send him up,” Gabe said, his voice loud enough to carry.

  “What?” Pic asked, his gaze bouncing over her shoulder, back to Gabe.

  Andi heard the front door open and turned in time to see Gabe point to his ear by way of explanation to Pic. “Talking to one of my agents. Doctor’s here. Benjamin Cavanaugh.”

  She nodded. Ben was the older brother of a high school friend. She’d danced with him at a few debutante parties when he’d been in his medical school years. He’d always been nice. Polite. Thoughtful. “I know Ben.”

  One dark eyebrow gently arched as Gabe looked at her. As though he remembered their cocktail party conversation and was wondering exactly how well she knew the doctor.

  “It’s really a small town,” Andi offered by way of explanation. Otherwise, she kept her expression blank. No tells.

  Let him wonder.

  Pic slowly shifted himself to the side of the bed and swung his legs to sit up. Eyes glassy, he looked at Gabe. “No questions, right?”

  His question and his tone conveyed an implicit trust, signifying a sea of change from their first meeting had somehow occurred. Gabe nodded. “Nothing more than about how you’re feeling right now.”

  Pic bent over in a fit of coughing. “Easy answer. I feel like a pile of shit that’s been stepped in.”

  Slightly balding, and with more of a paunch than Andi remembered, Benjamin Cavanaugh came into the room in time to hear Pic’s comment. He chuckled. “Then I’m in the right place. Hi, Andi. You look well.”

  “I am, thanks. Nice to see you again,” she said.

  Carrying a black leather satchel, he crossed to the bed and introduced himself to Gabe and Pic. Andi moved aside so the doctor could take her place. He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, next to the bedside table. Then he sat down, facing Pic, with his satchel to his side.

  Wondering whether she should exit the room, or stay, she decided to leave. Gabe gave her a slow headshake. He whispered, “Let the kid decide.”

  Standing beside Gabe, she turned in time to see Pic, with his shoulders squared, frowning as he sized up the doctor. His dignity was somewhat ruined by the hacking cough that doubled him over.

  She had a profile view of Ben, who ignored the suspicious look from his patient as he leaned to the side and opened his bag. As he rifled through it, he said, “I thought I’d tell you a few things about me before I start the examination. Okay?”

  Pic watched as Benjamin wrapped his stethoscope around his neck. “No need for an exam. I just need cough medicine. Maybe something for this headache.”

  Benjamin nodded. “Sounds like a solid start. But I thought you might like to know that while I’m focusing on your cold, or whatever it is that’s got you sounding so bad, you’re free to tell me anything that’s on your mind.”

  “I didn’t know doctors came out in the middle of the night.”

  “Well, then, you’re probably wondering what kind of doctor I am. I’m an internist. I run a private hospital and also work with the doctors at Ochsner Hospital. If you’ve got a problem I can’t handle, I’ll get another doctor here. I work from time to time for Black Raven, the company Gabe works for. Which means, I know how to make people better without asking too many questions.” His tone calm and reassuring, Ben talked as he pulled out a few pill bottles and placed them on the bedside table.

  Some of Pic’s discomfort seemed to ease as the doctor spoke. Casting a wary glance at the pill bottles, he asked, “What’s all that?”

  “Ibuprofen, antibiotics and steroids.”

  Pic glanced at Gabe, a slight smile on his face. Gesturing with his chin to the pill bottles, he asked, “This the kind you take, Muscle Man?”

  Gabe chuckled. “I’m not even going to answer that.”

  Benjamin glanced at Gabe. “I certainly hope he doesn’t, unless he’s sick.”

  “I don’t, Doc. Pic’s just being a prick.”

  As Gabe turned and went down the stairs, the doctor continued talking to Pic. “I’ll decide whether you need the meds after the examination, but I’m betting the stuff that’s coming up when you cough is green. Right?”

  Pic nodded. “Fucking neon, man.”


  “Well, these pills will help you get over it. Because what you have is more than just a simple cough. My ears can tell me that. I want to tell you, also, that you’re not the first person I’ve helped under similar circumstances. And the reason I do this kind of work, aside from the financial reward, is because I like helping people in need.”

  Gabe returned to the top of the stairs, with a glass of water in his hands. He walked to the bedside table, placed it next to the pill bottles, then resumed his position near the stairs.

  “I’m here to make you feel better physically, and I’m not going to ask you questions about anything else. But I’m betting there’s a bit more trouble in your life that I can’t fix. I’d leave that to Black Raven, if I were you. And its agents, like Gabe.”

  As Cavanaugh paused and let that sink in, Andi bit back a smile. Damn, but Gabe was good. She wondered how long the coaching session between Gabe and Cavanaugh had lasted. “You understand that between Andi and Gabe, you’re in good hands, right?”

  Pic nodded, looked like he was going to say something, then instead started coughing. Andi stepped into the bathroom and brought out a box of tissues. She placed it next to the bed. Pic reached for it, taking three out at a time, and blew his nose. “Thanks, Andi. Look, Doc, I appreciate all the information, but right now, I’m just trying to stop coughing. And I’m not in anybody’s hands. I’m just here for the night.”

  “You need to be here for more than just one night if you want to get better.” Benjamin pulled out a bottle with dark red liquid and handed it to Pic, “That’s cough syrup. The measuring cup on top’s a full dose. You can take a full dose every six hours. Not more than that. Before you take it, though, do you know if you have any allergies to medicine or food?”

  Pic placed the measuring cup on the night table, then pressed down on the childproof cap. “Beans. Hate ‘em.”

  Gabe chuckled.

  Andi’s draw dropped. Does he not know what an allergy is? “He asked you about allergies. Not food preferences. There’s a difference—”