8. Donna
EIGHT
Donna
PIPER-HORMONAL ACTIVITY
I’ve seen a lot of different versions of my neighbor. Most recently he’s been a plumber, a Mark Wahlberg, and a corrections officer. Some all-time favorite roles he’s played with me in private include, but are not limited to, New Orleans Vampire Billy, Grumpy English Professor Billy, and Brokenhearted Strip Club Client Billy. If I’m being honest, I also very much enjoyed First Date Billy.
But today I’m seeing him in a very different kind of role—one that does not involve sex. At all. Today I’m witnessing Overprotective Sort-of Uncle Billy who will cut anyone with a penis if he even looks at his cousin’s wife’s niece. When we picked her up from the airport, a male flight attendant accompanied Piper to the Arrivals pickup area and this man was clearly gay, but as soon as they walked through the doors, Billy got up in that flight attendant’s face and said, “Okay, I’ll take it from here, hotshot. This is not that kind of pickup area, you understand? Move it along.”
He walks alongside her like he’s Secret Service and she’s a head of state.
The head of the state of virginity, that is.
I mean, this girl is adorable. She isn’t seventeen yet, and she does not strike me as someone who’s ready to be sexually active, as much as her hormones seem to be telling her otherwise. But the way Billy is being overprotective of her and cockblocking any guy who tries to talk to her, you’d think she’s twelve.
This is the opposite of the Billy who was spanking me in a basement yesterday, but it’s so cute and I can’t help but find it endearing.
And Piper is so cute. She has long, dark brown hair with bangs, black-rimmed glasses, and the wide, innocent eyes of a doe—if that doe was super into hot guys’ butts. She’s wearing a sweater and wool coat with a plaid miniskirt and thick black tights. She’s carrying a huge weekender bag around even though she isn’t staying the night, but she brought three big hardcover books by her favorite romantasy author. Because romantasy is a thing now, I guess?
I can’t tell if she’s more excited that she got one of her favorite authors to sign her books at the reading or that she’s in Cambridge, surrounded by young men in jeans, blazers, and peacoats. But if I could be even ten percent as excited about anything as she is about everything, it would be so much easier to face each day.
While she was attending the ticketed event in a theater, Billy and I waited for her in the tiny lobby. Not because she asked us to and not because people are allowed to loiter in the small lobby. Because Billy wanted to be there to rescue Piper in case there was a fire or a really good-looking drunk Harvard guy hitting on her during the daytime literary event.
It was the most time I’ve ever spent with him without talking. I mean, not counting the times I’ve had his cock in my mouth. He had zero chill as he sat there, probably imagining a bunch of trust-fund guys gangbanging her during the reading or something. I honestly don’t know what he thought would happen in there, but he was very relieved to see her walking out, finally, with a huge smile on her sweet face and her arms around three books instead of frat boys.
Now we’re walking through Harvard Square, down the brick-paved sidewalks, to a bar that Billy says he worked at “five or ten years ago” so he knows the owner and can get Piper in to drink hot chocolate. Did I calmly mention to him that if he were, in fact, dating a single mom it would not be a great idea to take her underage daughter to a bar, even though he’s only going to buy her hot chocolate? I did. Do I think Piper is going to love going to a bar in Harvard Square and wish I had a sort-of-uncle like Billy when I was growing up? I do. Piper’s going to have so much to brag about with her friends.
And honestly, I’m happy because I can’t remember the last time I just walked around on a day off. It’s my favorite month and it’s a beautiful, crisp fall day. The leaves are changing, it’s boot season, and everything smells like pumpkin spice. Harvard Square is vibrant and bustling and almost has as much energy as Piper when she’s explaining her favorite book series to us.
“So, book one is called Riders of Storm and Fire and it’s an epic, spicy story centered on a group of dragon riders—mainly Zephyr and Ember. There’s a movie in development, and it will go into production next year! They still haven’t found a young actor swoony enough to play Zephyr, because Zac Efron is too old now, unfortunately. I’m going as Ember for Halloween and I have an orange wig—not natural red like your hair, but like the color of cartoon fire, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, and that will look hot with your complexion.”
She blushes. “I guess.”
“She wears pants, right? Ember wears baggy pants and a long, heavy sweater?” Billy asks, but he’s really telling her.
“They’re pants, yeah, but they’re really tight, like the sweater. ”
“Absolutely not, young lady.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “Dragon riders have to wear tight clothes because of the wind.”
“Obvi. Keep telling us about Zephyr and Ember,” I say, while narrowing my eyes at Billy.
“OMG, Zephyr is so hot. He’s six foot five and has long wavy chestnut-brown hair and ocean eyes with flecks of silver. He has a strong yet lean build with rippling muscles. He is very calm and broody and analytical but also a total badass when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. He’s an alpha in the streets and the sheets! Not OTT alpha, though, and the balance of power between him and Ember is chef’s kiss!”
“Nice,” I say, even though I have no idea what OTT means.
“Sounds like a dick to me,” Billy mutters. “And if he’s six foot five why isn’t he playing basketball instead of riding a dragon? I don’t trust this guy. He makes bad life choices.”
“Billy!” I hiss.
“And Ember is really passionate and brilliant when it comes to riding and understanding her dragon. There’s so much tension and banter between her and Zephyr at first and then so much mutual respect, and they just struggle so much with their loyalty to their factions and their growing attraction to each other!” Piper looks like she’s about to burst into flames as she hugs her bag full of books to her chest.
“Sounds delicious.”
“What are you lookin’ at?” Billy says to a couple of undergrad guys who pass by. “She’s sixteen—keep movin’!”
I keep glancing over at Piper when he does this, to see if she’s horrified or embarrassed, and it looks to me like she’s just used to it. She must have a lot of men in her family looking out for her. She just turns her head to check out those guys’ butts as they walk away. “Anyway, I can’t believe I finally got to meet Rachel Balfour. She was so friendly for someone who hates New Yorkers for sports reasons.”
“Hey, that is an excellent reason to hate New Yorkers,” Billy says as he keeps his eye on a forty-year-old man who’s walking toward us. “I hate all New Yorkers except the ones I’m related to. And even they’re assholes. Except you, Piper. And Maddie and Cora. And your mom. Am I related to her too? I can’t keep track.”
“Thanks. And I guess so, but my mom’s super basic, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Okay, we’re here.” Billy stops in front of an Irish dive bar and opens the door for us. “Don’t make eye contact with any of the guys in here except me,” he says to Piper. “You got it?” Then he looks at me. “Same goes for you, young lady.” He winks .
I gotta say, the wink really does it for me. “Absolutely not, young man” is my reply.
The place is pretty busy for a Saturday afternoon. Decorated for Halloween and blaring country music from a jukebox. It’s an Irish pub, but it’s still hard to imagine Billy working here. Why an Irish pub in Harvard Square of all places, when he could have worked at one in any Boston neighborhood? He is just full of surprises. I mean, the guy drives a Volvo, for crying out loud, which is pretty much the last kind of vehicle I’d expect him to drive. If he told me he drove a parade float everywhere I’d be less surprised.
Billy walks into the pub like he owns the place. I now think this is probably how he walks into every place. He does some crazy handshake with an elderly man behind the bar, who is perhaps the actual owner, leans in to chat with him, gets a nod, then waves Piper and me over. “Have a seat, ladies.” He gestures for Piper to sit at one of the empty barstools, and I take a seat next to her while Billy encourages a couple of college guys to move away from the bar and sit at a table that has just opened up.
Then he places his jacket over the stool next to Piper, goes behind the bar, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work. “Okay, I ordered us some finger food. Virgin hot chocolate for the lovely young lady from the town with the Football Team Who Shall Not Be Named. And what can I make for the lovely young lady from the other town with the Other Football Team Who Shall Not Be Named?”
“Surprise me,” I say, because I know he will.
“You got it. One summer snow comin’ right up.” He grins. “Bourbon smash with a little somethin’ special I think you’ll like.”
Billy pours fresh mint and sliced grapefruit in a glass. Where he got these things from I do not know. Doesn’t seem like that type of bar. But Billy makes things happen. He takes the muddler and gives it a little twirl, making sure I get a real good look at his hands and catching my eye with another wink. We both smile. Then he’s all business, gently crushing the mint and grapefruit. The fragrance reaches my nostrils, all sweet and fresh, and I take a deep breath in. It’s just wonderful.
Next, he scoops in some crushed ice, slamming it hard and making a sound like cymbals crashing. He reaches for the Elijah Craig Single Barrel, spinning the bottle before pouring a generous measure over the ice. The amber liquid seeps down in an artistic pattern, mixing with the frozen aromatics.
He caps the glass with a shaker tin and gives it a solid pump. Vigorous enough for me to get the idea but not so sexy that Piper gets any ideas whatsoever. The ice clinks like high hat drums. Even when he isn’t moving his lips, Billy gets his point across loudly.
When the concert is over, he strains it all into a rocks glass filled with fresh ice and garnishes it with a sprig of mint and another grapefruit slice, perched right on the rim. Last but not least, he grabs a little electric fan they’ve got on the bar. He takes a handful of powdered sugar and aims the fan at his open palm. The powdered sugar sprinkles down upon the glass and garnish, making it look like it’s been kissed by frost.
“What the fuck, buddy?” We all turn to find that a middle-aged man standing next to us is also freshly dusted with sugar snow.
“Sorry, man. Your drinks are on me,” Billy tells him amiably.
“Fuckin’ A,” says the happy snowman, raising his glass in salute.
“And there you are, madam. One summer snow.” He slides the drink across the counter.
Piper applauds as I take a sip. “Oh, that’s delicious,” I tell him.
“Good. Hey, you got a little sugar…right…here.” He wipes the corner of my mouth with his thumb and then sucks the tip of his thumb.
His eyes go a little wide. He’s probably worried he’s being too suggestive in front of his cousin’s wife’s niece. Good thing she’s totally distracted by a preppy Harvard type who’s walking past us up to the bar. She gives the back of his dark jeans a real good once-over. Billy does not like that. But then the preppy guy gives Piper the up-down.
Billy’s eyes look like they’re burning so hot they’re going to melt.
“Stella Artois,” Preppy Guy says, not looking at Billy because he’s grinning at Piper.
“Oh, you don’t want a Stella Artois,” Billy says.
That earns Billy the preppy guy’s attention. “I don’t?”
Billy shakes his head. “Nah, too simple.”
He grabs a beer glass and pours Stella into it. I expect him to do a crappy pour and leave it all foamy with a ton of head. But Billy takes as much care with it as he did my drink. When he’s done, Billy slides it toward Preppy.
Preppy looks at Billy, bewildered. “That’s not Stella Artois?”
“Nah, man. The secret is in the garnish. Oh right, I forgot.” Billy searches beneath the bar. “Where’s my cocktail stick? Oh yeah, here it is.” He pulls the baseball bat from beneath the bar and brandishes it at the preppy guy. “That’s a Stella Au Revoir . As in sayonara and get the fuck outta here and quit eyeballin’ underage girls!”
The preppy guy grabs the beer before hauling off, but Billy hops the counter and chases after him, yelling that he’s also not going to take any shit from the guy’s friends.
Left alone, Piper turns to me. “So, how long have you and Billy been seeing each other?”
“Oh, we aren’t…I mean we aren’t really dating. We just… We hang out sometimes. We’ve been neighbors for a couple of years, I guess? He’s helping me fix up a house that I’m hoping to move into eventually.”
“Really?! Is he doing, like, carpentry work and stuff?”
“Not yet, but maybe. We haven’t quite started yet, but there’s…a lot to do. And we keep getting sidetracked.”
“Oh, really ?” she says, waggling her eyebrows, just like Billy sometimes does. “How so?”
Wow, I am not going to get into it. So instead, I find myself blurting out, “I think the house might be haunted.”
Piper puts down her mug of hot chocolate. “No way! By a ghost or a demon?”
“Ghost. Not a demon. It doesn’t feel evil, it feels sad. And maybe frustrated. Sometimes angry. It might be my patient. Or his wife. Or someone who died on the property before my patient bought it—who knows. I don’t know.”
“Well, you need to find out. You need to ask who it is and what it wants.”
I laugh. I love how this girl isn’t hesitant about anything. “Just ask it, huh?”
“Well, you’ll probably have to do a séance. ”
“Like, hire a medium?”
“No, you can use a Ouija board! We did it at my friend Shoshanna’s sleepover once, and we contacted the spirit of a man who died in her building. It was kind of creepy but also cool.”
“And you believe you actually contacted a spirit? You don’t think anyone was messing around?”
“Oh, it was real. If any of us were messing around we would have pretended to conjure up a hot dead guy. This one was old and kind of mean, but not in a scary way. He was just really mad that his apartment, the one Shoshanna lives in, had been totally gutted. And that the Rebels traded his favorite player.”
Billy’s back behind the bar, and this gets his attention. “If he was a Rebels fan, then he was not to be trusted. There’s no ghost at that house, just bad wiring.” A guy nearby starts to tell Piper that he also used a Ouija board at a party once, but Billy holds his finger up to his face. “You are not a part of this conversation, Scooby-Doo. Move along.”
“Well.” Piper shrugs. “You should figure it out one way or another before you move in, right? Donna wouldn’t have brought it up if she wasn’t really wondering about it.”
This girl is eerily astute.
“Can’t hurt to have a séance,” she tells me. “Just don’t do it alone. You aren’t supposed to do it with less than two people, so make sure Billy’s with you. And do it on the night of a full moon if you can. Or on Halloween or November first, because that’s Samhain and that’s when the barriers between the physical and spiritual worlds break down. Oh, and keep a lot of salt handy in case you contact a demon.” She laughs. “I learned that from Supernatural . I don’t know if it really helps to protect you, but I would do literally anything Dean Winchester told me to do.”
“I don’t like the sound of that guy either,” Billy says. “But he has a cool name.”
“Oh, also,” Piper adds, tapping her chin. “There’s always a chance one of you might get possessed by the spirit during the séance, but don’t worry, it’s only temporary. You’ll need to draw a pentagram on the floor, with chalk, and make a protective circle before you start—to banish any negative entities.” She says this like she’s explaining how to use a hairdryer or something. “If you give me your number, I’ll text you everything you need to know!”
“Okay.” I tune out Billy, who’s telling all the guys around us to back off while Piper and I get our phones out. The truth is I’ve been around dying and dead people for years as part of my job. I know what they tell me and I know that I’ve felt it when people’s spirits pass out of their bodies. I don’t know how else to explain what happens. I don’t go around thinking about what happens to spirits that don’t move on to some great beyond because I’m too busy trying to keep people comfortable while they’re alive.
But what if that’s what happened to Lars? Or his wife? What if they need my help? If he trusted me enough to leave me this property that meant so much to him, then I owe it to him to at least make sure I’m doing all I can for him. Or for her. I just hope it’s Lars and not his wife, because from the way he described her she sounded kind of melodramatic. And a redhead. Which is a terrible combination.
And after seeing how protective Billy is of Piper, he’s the only person I’d want around if I actually do a séance…
So far, being a homeowner isn’t nearly as fun as I thought it would be.