19. June 15th
JUNE 15TH
Sylvan
When they arrivedat Sylvan’s home, she saw a black van out front with a fictitious security company name on it. Two of the guys she’d seen at the office, Nemo and Steel, were hooking up cameras on the far corner of the building. The nosey next-door neighbor was out watering her flowers along the fence line, her ankle-biter dog barking up a high-pitched storm.
The guys must have picked the locks to get inside and hacked the alarm. Given what she’d seen and then heard from Kubrick today, it had probably been child’s play to them.
Once inside, her shoulders sagged, and she sighed in part relief, part despair.
A hand reached out to give a gentle tug on a wispy curl hanging loose from the braid. “What’s wrong?” TB asked.
“Nothing.” Sylvan shook her head. “At least nothing I can control. Elphaba”—she gestured in the direction of the woman outside—“will have it around the entire block that I’ve just returned home, that there are several hunkalicious men working on putting up a security system, and later on, it will be noticed that a Humvee that has never been here before is sitting in my driveway.”
“So?” His expression was puzzled.
A smaller sigh this time, she shrugged.
He went to the window, glimpsing behind the partially pulled curtains at the woman at the property line, not even trying to fake spying on the activity. He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. “Is she really a witch, or do you just call her that because of the dog?”
Sylvan laughed. “You know who Elphaba is? Wow. That’s sort of frightening.”
“Nemo’s fault,” he grumbled, looking back through the sheers. “Claims he’s a cinephile or some shit. We all have to watch these ridiculous movies; otherwise, he doesn’t shut up.”
“To be honest, I have no idea what her real name is. But the first day I moved in, she was wearing all black and had this huge sun hat on, and that dog was barking away. It doesn’t help that she rides a bicycle everywhere, either.”
“With the dog?”
“With the dog. Baby goes everywhere with her.”
“Fuck.”
“Mmm hmm. Every time I see her on the thing, I hum the music to myself. Then I can’t get it out of my head the rest of the day. Total earworm.”
She caught a glimpse of Waters at her kitchen island, blueprints spread everywhere and a laptop open in front of him. At the moment, though, he was talking to Kai on his phone. The look on his face was much softer. His inflections were low so that Kai could hear them, but not the men around him. Then he smiled, and she swore she saw his pulse tick rapidly in his neck.
From directly behind her, a warm breath murmured, “What put that look on your face?”
The smile on her face was wistful. “Him. He’s so in love with Kai. He radiates it.” Her smile disappeared. “I wish I could have that someday. Their story should be a romance novel. But”—she drew herself up—“that’s not in my future. No point longing for things that will never be.” She turned to face TB. “I’m exhausted and want to crash, so what do you need from me before that happens?”
“Nosey neighbor. We start there.” He tapped his watch. “Nutcase, go chat up the neighbor lady. Flame basically said she’s the neighborhood watch. Maybe she’s noticed if anyone’s been around who doesn’t belong.”
“Roger that. Charm time, it is,” the voice echoed over the speaker.
“I take it he’s the ladies’ man of the group?” Sylvan asked.
“Well, given that we’re all ‘hunkalicious,’ I could have sent anyone. But yes, he’s the one that could charm a nun out of her habit, as the saying goes.”
Sylvan wrinkled her nose. “Huh. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but whatever.”
No way would I subject my first choice to her. She’d take one look at TB and melt like someone threw a bucket of water on her.
“Come on, I’ll quickly show you the house. Obviously, downstairs. Kitchen opens up to the living room through the far door. You can also access it down this hall. Parlor on our left.” She began to walk from the foyer down the hall. “Stairs to the second floor.”
She began climbing the darkly varnished stairs, using her right hand along the balustrade to the first landing about halfway up, then turned right to climb the second half flight of stairs. When they reached the second-floor landing, she gestured left. “My room and bath. I guess you’ll be across the hall.” She gestured to the right. “There’s also an attached bathroom. Closet with extra sheets, towels, etc., next door to your room at the bottom of the stairs to the third floor.”
He looked up and down the hall. “What stairs?”
“Oh, sugar! Sorry. Right here.” She crossed to the end of the hall, where there was an oddly shaped alcove with a Victorian armchair and table. They stood next to an inlaid bookcase at the end of the hall. When she got to the bookcase, she pulled on the handle recessed inside the third shelf. The door swung open to reveal a flight of spiraling stairs to the third floor. She blushed. “I always wanted a house with a hidden staircase.”
“What’s upstairs?” he asked.
“Sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary,” he repeated.
She huffed. “Yes, my safe space. It’s where I write.” She swiped a hand across her forehead and felt herself slump. “I’m super tired. I don’t suppose we could hold off looking at that until later?”
He dropped his duffle bag along the wall and shook his head. “Hang on. If the team didn’t clear it, then we don’t go up.” He tapped his watch. “Waters. Did you clear the third floor behind the bookcase?”
“Steel cleared it. You’re good,” came the reply.
“Copy.” He gestured to Flame. “Just let me take a real quick look, too. Then I’ll know if there’s anything else I want the guys to do before they leave. You can rest while I help them finish up.”
She nodded reluctantly, then moved to climb the stairs. “Hopefully, you’ll fit. It’s kind of narrow.”
“Maybe I should go first so that if I get stuck, you can give me a shove?” he suggested.
“Right now, I’d rather push from the other side,” she shot back.
He grunted.
When they reached the landing, Sylvan immediately went to the circular window bed and climbed onto it to pull up the shade. She remained there, sitting cross-legged, clutching a pillow, too exhausted to move.
He had said he wanted to look around the space, but his attention was caught by her in the bed. His next words sounded stuck in his throat. “You should try and stay away from the windows as much as possible.”
She watched as he stared at her there, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed. She wondered if he was imagining her there on the night he directed her masturbation sequence.
Serves him right, if he is.
“So”—he cleared his throat—“do you sleep up here or in your room?”
Crawling to the edge of the bed, she put the pillow off to the side. She stepped down to the floor and stood next to the bed, her left hand crossed over, grabbing her right elbow. “Most of the time, up here. When I get deep into my writing, I tend not to leave. The stairs seem like too much effort. So I just curl up in that bed, nap, and when I wake up, go back to work. I live by myself, and I don’t usually let anyone in except for Kai, so no one really cares. It’s just easier.”
“You’ve locked yourself away.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what your house tells me. Layers of protection. The downstairs level is worthy of a glamor magazine. Everything is perfect and in its place. All laid out to the best viewing options and functions. And like those pictures in the magazines, it’s too beautiful to touch.”
He turned to face her full-on. “The second floor is utilitarian. Neat. Still looks nice, but it’s not like downstairs. Functional. But it’s a facade of normalcy. A firewall.”
“This room, though.” He looked around it again. “This is the heart of you.”
Holy Snapchat!
He took slow steps until he was directly in front of her beside the bed. “It’s like the clothes. All the unrestricted, flowing window dressing that creates an image. Then the boning and shaping to keep everything that’s real trapped inside. Strip that all away, that’s when I find you.”
Their eyes met. She felt something trying to escape from inside her.
A yelling of “Yoo-hoo!” from the second floor and a clattering of heavy feet as they came up the winding staircase broke the moment.
“Jumpin’ Jo’Burg, you climb these stairs every day?” Nemo asked Sylvan. Then he turned to TB. “And you? How the hell did you fit up that thing, Incredible Hulk?”
“What do you need, Nauseous?”
“Nothin’,” Nemo answered. “Just letting you know that Henrietta hasn’t seen anything out of the ordinary except for us.” He grinned at his teammate, all teeth and gum-chewing, as he smiled and rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Henrietta?” Sylvan asked.
“Yeah, your neighbor. Nice lady. Said I was very handsome. Said the other boys were, too, but that you”—he clapped TB on the shoulder from behind—“looked like you weren’t feeling so good and maybe needed some castor oil to lighten your mood. Get things moving again.”
Sylvan put her hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t keep the giggle back.
Nemo winked at her. “You need anything, Rapunzel?”
“Rapunzel?” she asked.
“Yes. Beautiful long hair. No other name for ya.”
TB coughed to interrupt the conversation. “Thank you for the update; now go away,” he told Nemo.
“You sure you don’t need anything, Rapunzel?” Nemo directed at her. “Hair brushed out? Shoulders rubbed? Glass of wine?” He looked over at TB, who looked like he might actually be smoldering. Nemo looked at Sylvan and said in front of his hand with a fake whisper, “Need me to help you research any sexy scenes for your books?”
She suppressed a laugh, but just barely. “Thank you, Nemo, but I think I’m fine.”
“Oh, darlin’,” Nemo said. “You are definitely F-I-N-E fine, but this lug? He is not. Henrietta’s right. He really does look like he’s got an upset stomach.” He fake whispered out of the side of his mouth to TB, “I told you not to eat those tourists for breakfast.” Then, to Sylvan, he added, “Maybe I should go get that castor oil Henrietta offered up.”
TB just rolled his eyes.
“He does that a lot,” Nemo told Sylvan, pointing a thumb in TB’s direction. “So grumpy. Very cruel to me in particular. We tried to house-train him, but… they wouldn’t let me put a shock collar on him. Said it was cruelty to animals.”
“Get the fuck out of here, asshole,” TB groused.
Nemo looked at Sylvan with a sad little boy face. “See what I mean? Really only suitable to be a junkyard dog.” He took hold of her hand. “If you need anything that Frankenstein can’t supply”—he winked lasciviously—“you just let me know. I’ll be happy to oblige.” He gave a swift kiss to the knuckles of her hand he was holding.
“Fuck off,” TB growled.
Sylvan tried not to encourage him, but she felt her smile get even bigger. He was good for her ego, she’d give him that. “Thanks, Nemo. I’ll keep that in consideration.”
Nemo let go of her hand, clasping his to his chest where his heart would be. With an exaggerated sigh, he turned and clattered down the stairs, singing “As Time Goes By,” the voice getting fainter with each step he took back downstairs.
“I’m pretty sure his mother dropped him on his head every day for the first ten years of his life. And I warn you now, never, and I mean never, engage in a game of ‘Would You Rather?’ with him. The man is a menace.”
“He sounds fun.”
“He’s a pain in my ass.”
“Well, you don’t like to have fun, so he would be.”
With that, she swept down the stairs and closed the door behind her after entering her room.
“I always had fun with you,” he whispered to the empty room.