Page 8 of Lick
“Leyton?” He answered the call, his eyes drilling into me from across the room. My stomach sank accordingly. Only a parent could train you so well. I had disappointed him. We both knew it. There was only one Leyton and only one reason why he’d be calling at this hour on this day.
“Yes,” my father said. “It’s an unfortunate situation.” The lines around his mouth deepened, turning into crevices. “Understandably. Yes. Good night, then.”
His fingers tightened around the cell and then he tossed it onto the dining room table. “Your internship has been canceled.”
All of the air rushed out of me as my lungs constricted to the size of pennies.
“Leyton rightly feels that given your present situation…” My father’s voice trailed away to nothing. He’d called in years-old favors to get me the internship with one of Portland’s most prestigious architectural firms. It’d had taken only a thirty-second phone call, however, to make it disappear.
Someone banged on the door. Neither of us reacted. People had been hammering on it for hours.
Dad started pacing back and forth across the living room. I just watched in a daze.
Throughout my childhood, times such as this had always followed a certain pattern. Nathan got into a fight at school. The school called our mother. Our mother had a meltdown. Nate retreated to his room or, worse, disappeared for days. Dad got home and paced. And there I’d be among it all, trying to play mediator, the expert at not making waves. So what the hell was I doing standing in the middle of a fucking tsunami?
As kids went, I’d always been pretty low maintenance. I’d gotten good grades in high school and had gone on to the same local college as my father. I might have lacked his natural talent at design, but I put in the hours and effort to get the grades I needed to pass. I had been working part-time in the same coffee shop since I was fifteen. Moving in with Lauren had been my one grand rebellion. I was, all in all, fantastically boring. My parents had wanted me to stay home and save money. Anything else I’d achieved had been done through subterfuge so my parents could sleep soundly at night. Not that I’d gotten up to much. The odd party. The Tommy episode four years back. There’d been nothing to prepare me for this.
Apart from the press, there were people crying on the front lawn and holding signs proclaiming their love for David. One man was holding an old-style boom box high in the air, blasting out music. A song called “San Pedro” was their favorite. The yelling would reach a crescendo every time the singer made it to the chorus, “But the sun was low and we’d no place to go…”
Apparently, later they were planning on burning me in effigy.
Which was fine, I wanted to die.
My big brother Nathan had been over to collect Lauren and take her back to his place. We hadn’t seen each other since Christmas, but desperate times and desperate measures. The apartment Lauren and I shared was likewise surrounded. Going there was out of the question, and Lauren didn’t want to get her family or other friends involved. To say Nathan enjoyed my predicament would be unkind. Not untrue, but definitely unkind. He’d always been the one in trouble. This time, however, it was all on me. Nathan had never gotten accidentally married and inked in Vegas.
Because of course some asshat reporter had asked my mother how she felt about the tattoo, so that secret was out. Apparently now no decent boy from a good family would ever marry me. Previously, I’d been unlikely to land a man due to my various lumps and bumps. But now it was all on the tattoo. I’d decided to forgo pointing out to her that I was already married.
More banging on the front door. Dad just looked at me. I shrugged.
“Ms. Thomas?” a big voice boomed. “David sent me.”
Yeah, right. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Wait. Please,” the big voice said. “I’ve got him on the phone. Just open the door enough so I can hand it in to you.”
“No.”
Muffled noises. “He said to ask you about his T-shirt.”
The one he’d left behind in Vegas. It was in my bag, still damp. Huh. Maybe. But I still wasn’t convinced. “What else?”
More talking. “He said he still didn’t want the… excuse me, miss… ‘fucking ring’ back.”
I opened the door but kept the chain on. A man who resembled a bulldog in a black suit handed me a cell phone.
“Hello?”
Loud music played in the background and there were lots of voices. Apparently this marriage incident hadn’t slowed down David at all.
“Ev?”
“Yes.”
He paused. “Listen, you probably want to lie low for a while until this all dies down, okay? Sam will get you out of there. He’s part of my security team.”
Sam gave me a polite smile. I’d seen mountains smaller than this guy.
“Where would I go?” I asked.
