“He recognizes who the alpha is in this house.” I reply, and she rolls her eyes. “What’s his name?”
“Doug,” she says with a smile, and I look at her like she's fucking insane. Because she is. Who names their dog Doug?
“I swear you get weirder the more I learn about you.” I turn to walk into the kitchen, and Doug stands, following behind me.
“Thank you, I take that as a compliment!” She shouts across the small room, dropping onto the tan leather couch. She laughs for a moment, then suddenly looks around, confused.
“Wait, where did this come from? This unit was fully furnished! This isn’t my couch! What happened to the black linen couch that was here? And the side tables! What the hell?” She jumps up, rushing around the space, looking at all the furniture I’ve replaced over the past few weeks. “This dining table is completely different! I had a cute little white one! This is so…dark and…modern…”
She sneers, walking back towards the bedroom, but I don’t stop her. Instead, I stand in the kitchen, petting Doug and chugging a glass of water. She was bound to find out at some point. I was hoping it would be after I left, but here we are.
“What have you done?! There wasn’t anything wrong with my furniture, you pompous assface! I just bought some of this stuff!” She charges back into the kitchen, stopping inches from my face. Her spicy scent, a mixture of cinnamon, vanilla, and coffee, surrounds me, clouding my mind for only a moment, but I shake it away.
“That shit was old. It needed replacing.” I don’t feel it needs more explanation than that, but the anger in her eyes says otherwise. “The couch smelled like weed, the bed frame was broken in three places, and two of the dining chairs didn’t match. I am accustomed to a certain lifestyle, Ms. Diaz. I wasn’t going to live beneath that because of your pride.”
“Thatshitwas mine, Sebastard! You don’t get to just decide someone else’s belongings are garbage and throw them out!” Her voice gets higher and higher, almost a screech, as she points her black manicured nail in my direction.
“Are you forgetting whose home you’re standing in right now, little girl? Get your fucking hands out of my face, Vanessa!” I snap back at her, stepping forward with authority. She retreats back into the living room, not running, but putting space between her and I.
“I pay fucking rent here. I don’t complain about the fact I'm taking cold showers daily, or that the smell of your over roasted coffee beans is so overwhelming it gives me a fucking migraine,daily. I mind my own business, Vanessa. I didn’t ask you, the person responsible for this apartment, to replace the furniture, even though Breaker told me it was your brother who left this place in such disarray.” I charge forward until her legs hit the couch. She has nowhere left to retreat. For once, she almost looks afraid.
“Listen, I didn’t-” she snaps, but I cut her off.
“Shut up. Don’t waste your fucking breath with whatever bullshit you’ve got to say. I didn’t ask you to bring your sassy, judgmental ass to my fucking door in the middle of the night, Vanessa, but here we are. You are more than welcome to keep this furniture whenever I leave. Hell, maybe you could even charge a little more to the next tenant and actually get the fucking plumbing fixed. So, I think the words you’re looking for arethank you, Sebastian,andI appreciate your kindness, Sebastian. I’m not really interested in hearing anything else from you tonight.” Taking one step closer to her, she shuffles, tripping and falling backwards onto the couch with a huff.
“Estúpido imbécil.” she mumbles under her breath, barely loud enough to be heard. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looks away from me, her chin stuck up in the air. So fucking defiant it hurts. I wish that didn’t turn me on.
“Excuse me?” I ask, cocking a brow. She replies with another eye roll. “Very well. There are blankets in the hall closet, Ms. Diaz. We can discuss your reason for barging into my apartment in the morning. Don’t worry, the new couch is very comfortable.”
I don’t give her the satisfaction of having the last word. Instead, I pick my pistol up from the kitchen counter and stalk back to my bedroom. Doug follows me halfway down the hallway before I give him a stern look.
“Stay.” I tell him, pointing back towards Vanessa. He looks back, glancing at me once more before curling up at the end of the hallway. She gives me a final shocked look, like the interaction between her dog and I is truly out of this world.
“Goodnight, Ms. Diaz.” I kick the door closed, stride across my bedroom, and sit on the edge of my bed. Setting my pistol on the nightstand, I drag my hands across my face.
Why the fuck would I invite this demon into my home so willingly? Opening the drawer of the nightstand, I set my pistol next to the one thing I made sure to bring from home. My fingers trace the edge of the resin, my heart rate calming instantly. I want to go home. I’m tired of running, tired of hiding. But will I ever really be done? Part of me feels like I’ve been hiding behind falsehoods my entire life. People in my family are like actors who never leave the stage. Always performing, even if no one is watching. Some people wear masks for so long, when they finally peel them back, there’s nothing left underneath but the echoes of who they were once meant to be.
nine
It’s barelyfive when I wake again to the sound of the front door slamming shut. I should’ve known she’d be up before the crack of dawn, given her profession. I try for the next half hour to fall back asleep, but the whining coming from the living room finally drags me from my bed.
Doug stands right outside my bedroom door, leash hanging from his mouth. Smart pup.
“Alright already, give me a fucking second.” I push past him, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind me. He paws at the bottom annoyingly. That’s a fucking habit that will stop. I finish brushing my teeth quickly and open the door to Doug’s impatient glare waiting for me.
“You need to learn some manners, Douglas.” Stepping past him, I grab a pair of black athletic shorts from the dresser and a matching black t-shirt. Slipping my running shoes on, I don’t miss the irony that this is the most laid back I’ve been since the day I came to this town. Tattoos run the length of my arms and legs, barely an inch of untouched skin visible. It’s rare I dress in anything less than Armani. But I don’t think I need to beso formal to take Vanessa’s dog for a walk around the square. Clipping his leash to his collar, I stop short when I see the cup and plate on the edge of the kitchen island.
Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep. God knows you need it.
V
I laugh out loud at the note she left next to the cinnamon scone and travel coffee cup. Even though I talked shit about her coffee last night, I didn’t mean it. Her espresso isn’t half bad. Popping the lid off, I breathe in the strong aroma of the Americano made exactly the way I like it. I hate it when she does nice shit for me. It makes me feel like I have to be nice in return, which is the last thing I want to do.
Finishing the scone in two bites, I grab the coffee in one hand and Doug’s leash in the other. Walking downstairs, I decide to take the route through the coffee shop. I don’t know if Vanessa allows pets inside the place, but hopefully she’ll make an exception for her own mutt.
Leading Doug through the back door, his eyes bouncing from person to person, I realize this town is more alive in the early hours of the morning than I’ve ever seen it. The line at the counter is nearly out the front door as Vanessa scurries around behind the espresso machines making drinks and warming pastries. Her smile is bright and cheerful as she converses with all her customers as if she knows their life stories by heart. And maybe she does. She seems like the type to want to get to know perfect strangers just for the hell of it.
Her eyes catch mine, and she stops dead in her tracks, jaw hung open, coffee cup dangling from her hand. I tip my cup to her, tugging Doug's leash as he and I walk towards the frontdoor. Her eyes follow us all the way out of the building, like she can't believe I would do something so mundane as take her dog for a walk. A group of young women waiting in line whisper about me but they’re not exactly discreet.