Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) (31 page)

“Mr. Romano, this is Kelly Stevenson, again. Howard said you got my notices that the apartment is being rented out and you need to vacate as soon as possible. We’ve also been getting complaints about odors coming from your apartment. Knowing that you are a personal friend of Ms. Grant’s, I’ve left several messages with her. Her PA called me and told me she’s in London, and asks that you call her.”

Day forty-five
….

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Logan!” Allie yells. “Matt and I are coming in. Sam got us a key. Sam’s mad as hell, by the way.”

“Go away. Leave me the fuck alone. I’m breaking up with you,” I yell.

“You can’t break up with us, you idiot,” Allie yells back.

“Holy crap!” Matt shouts. “What the fuck is that smell?”

“Oh my God, that’s so gross. The fumes can’t be good for the baby. We need to get in and get out. What the…Matt, get in here,” she shouts.

“Where are you?” Matt yells.

“Stop yelling,” I shout as I hold my hands over my ears.

“In the hallway across from the kitchen.”

“What’s going on babe?”

“Is that pepperoni on that pizza or is it…?”

“Fuck if I know what it is.”

“Make sure you don’t step on anything.” She says. “If I’d known it was this bad I would have gotten us some of those bootie thingies.”

“Bootie thingies?”

“Those blue thingies you slide over your shoes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh. My. Hell! Al, get in here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Come look in the fridge. The motherfucker is growing penicillin!”

“Ew. That’s disgusting. Why are you looking in the fridge anyway?”

“I was looking for a beer.”

Allie slaps the side of my head. “Get the hell up, Romano.”

“Leave me alone.” I place my pillow over my head, wishing Allie away, wishing all of them away. Why can’t they all just leave me the fuck alone? This is America, isn’t it? The land of the free, and brave, and leave the poor motherfucker Canadian alone in his Trump Tower apartment. What’s the world coming to when a guy can’t wallow in his own misery, in his own place? Okay, so technically I don’t own it, but still…

“Not going to happen, Romano.”

She pulls the pillow off my face.

“Hey, give that back.” I grab it from her and put it back where it’s been for days. “Go away, Allie,” I say through the pillow.

“Did you find him?” Matt calls from the kitchen area.

“He’s in here.”

“Oh, my God. I didn’t even see him under all that… What the hell is that?”

“I think it was once his laundry.”

“It’s my tent. Stop pulling at it. Everything has its special place.”

Matt removes my pillow. “Dude. Are you drunk?”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, my God,” Allie yells. “Did you see that?” she says, pointing toward the edge of the rug, aka the edge of my kingdom.

“See what?” Matt says.

“That thing on the rug. It just moved.”

“It’s just Freddy,” I tell them.

“Who the hell is Freddy?” Allie asks.

“He’s a cockroach.”

“Oh, my God. Matt, we waited too long. Gave him too much space. He’s lost it.”

I roll onto my back and pull my sorry drunk ass onto the sofa. “I made a tent, and the end of the rug is the edge of my kingdom. Freddy likes livin’ on the edge. See that pizza box?” I point to it.

“Yeah,” Allie says.

“That’s the drawbridge. Sometimes he sleeps under it.”

“How much have you had to drink?” she asks me.

I remove a half-empty vodka bottle from my tent. “Today, or in total?”

She rolls her eyes at me.

“Man, you look like shit. Remember that U2 concert we went to in Calgary, and we woke up in that chick’s apartment, the redhead with the biggest tits ever, the one that modeled for
Big Tit Nation
?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Remember you woke up with that weird rash on your face and that thing on your dick?”

“I never did find out what that was.”

“Anyway, man. You look a thousand times worse.”

Allie holds up her hand. “Wait a minute. Is that the concert you didn’t go to, stayed home and missed because you had the flu? The U2 concert in Calgary the summer I studied at Yale?”

“Um… we… I plead the fifth.”

I laugh for like the first time in… days. “Dude, you can’t plead the fifth. You’re Canadian.”

“I can’t believe you lied to me. I felt so bad. I wanted to come home, leave Yale, because you sounded so terrible. God, Matt. You were crying over the phone. Telling me moving your big toe was excruciating.”

I shake my head. “I told him the toe thing was pushing it.”

She puts her hands on her pregnant hips; hips that have grown substantially since the last time I saw her. “You helped him lie to me?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Well, he was your fiancé.”

She tears up.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry.” He places an arm around her shoulders.

She pushes him away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Baby.”

She holds up her hand. “Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me.”

“Al, I’m sorry. I couldn’t let the motherfucker go alone. Nothing happened, I didn’t do anything.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Okay. I looked at her tits. It was hard not to, they were huge. Went out to here,”—he holds his arms straight out in front of him—“Logan slept with her, not me. He slept with all of them.”

She looks at me. “All of them!”

“She had two sisters,” I inform her. “Their tits only went out to here.” I hold my hands in front of my chest in demonstration.

“You lied to me too, dickface. I asked you to take care of him.”

“I did. How many beers did you drink that weekend?” I ask him.

Matt’s brow rises in concentration. “Um. Sixty, maybe.”

“See. Plenty of fluids.”

Matt chuckles.

Allie folds her arms over her very pregnant tummy. “So, you think that’s funny do you?”

I raise my hand. “I do.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Matt raises his hand. “I do too.”

“Ugh,” she says and throws up her hands.

My buzz waning, I pick up a bottle of vodka off the floor and take a healthy swig.

Matt throws my dirty shorts and tees on the floor, next to my tent, and sits on the sofa next to me. He reaches for the bottle; I hand it to him.

“Don’t you dare,” Allie tells him.

Her phone rings. While she’s searching in her bag, Matt takes a healthy swig, and smiles.

“Dude,” he says, “I’ve missed the hell out of you.”

I nod as he hands me the bottle.

Allie finds her phone and slides it on. “Hey,” she says, answering it. “It’s much worse than we thought. No. We’re talking hazmat. Yes, it’s that bad. He’s made a tented kingdom and befriended a cockroach. Yes, I said cockroach. His name is Freddy. How would I know? I’m a social worker, not a shrink. That would be great. Yes, any help would be appreciated. I’m feeling a little sick. It’s the smell. Yes, it’s that bad. The fumes can’t be good for the baby. Okay. That sounds good. Thank you,” she says, and ends her call.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“None of your business.”

Her phone rings again. “Hello. That was quick,” she says, and laughs. “He needs a shower, he reeks. Yes, reeks. Well, that’s kind of weird. Okay, if you must know, he smells as if he rolled in cooked cabbage while wearing wet teenage-boy socks, and then sat on a five-day-old tampon for five days. Well, I’m sorry. I can’t describe it. You don’t have a sister? What about your mom? Okay, fair enough. Yes, it’s bad, and he looks like Grizzly Adams on a bender. He’s a… mountain man, I think. Okay, sounds good. Just come on up. Yeah, I’ll give it to him. Thanks.” She puts her phone back into her bag, takes out a piece of paper, and hands it to me.

“What’s that?”

“It was on your door. You’re being evicted.”

I read it. “Final notice? Motherfuckers. Sam said I could stay here until I found a place.”

“Things have changed, you idiot.”

“I’m not leaving. They can’t make me leave.”

“Christ-on-a-cracker. What the fuck is that smell?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“The property manager called me,” Lee says. “Since Grant International owns the apartment, and I’m head of Grant security, they asked me to handle your eviction. They don’t want a scene, Logan. So here I am. So get the fuck up. A cleaning crew is on its way.”

“I’m not leaving. You can’t make me.”

“Oh, I think I can.”

He pulls me up by my hair. I slap at him. “What the fuck. You’re pulling my hair. Only girls do that shit.”

Matt laughs. “Dude, only girls slap like that.”

“Piss off.”

He laughs harder.

Lee folds his muscle-man arms over his muscle-man chest. “You’ve got two minutes to get dressed. We can fumigate, exterminate, and detox at your new place.”

Fucking dick!

Lee throws me a pair of Levis.

“You’ve already found me a new place. Brilliant. Fucking brilliant.”

Matt chuckles. “Looks like you’re in capable hands, slapper. So we’re taking off.”

Asshole.

“I’ll call you later,” Allie tells me.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Good luck, Lee,” Allie calls from the door.

He waves.

I look through my piles of tees, smelling them. Not finding one without an odor, I pick the one on the top and pull it on.

“You look like shit, Logan.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughs. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Lee scrunches up his nose and it looks… so wrong on such a big muscular guy. “It looks like you lost your breakfast on it.”

I look down at one of my favorite Beavis and Butthead tees. “I think it was dinner.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever, man. Just grab a jacket to put over it.”

I slip on my Nikes without socks.

He frowns.

“What?”

“It’s hot outside, close to ninety.”

“So?”

“I don’t have time for this shit. Put your hair in a pony or something and let’s get the hell out of here.”

I look around for a hair band or something. I spy a bread twist tie on the floor. I pick it up and attempt to tie my hair back. Unsuccessful, I look at Lee.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I hold out the twist tie. “Dude, it’s all I have. If you want my hair back, then I need your help.”

He growls and snatches it from my hand. I turn and he pulls my hair back and ties it.

“Thanks, man.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s definitely a first. What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing.”

“No way, dude. None of that shits comes. We’ll buy you new clothes.”

I grab a couple of my favorite tees and stuff them in a brown paper bag. Just one of many bags, courtesy of the liquor store a block away. Finding room for one more, I grab it and stuff it in the bag.

Lee blows out a frustrated breath.

“I’m not leaving without them.” I pick up a bottle of vodka.

“No open containers, dude.” He grabs it from me and sets it on the coffee table. “Anything else you need, we’ll buy.”

I look around the trashed room. Think about Freddy and how I’m going to miss him. He was a good pet, for a roach. “I’m ready.”

We walk out the door.

Lee shuts it behind him and takes out his phone. “Hey, Mike, I need you to drive to the back alley. Yeah, the laundry entry should work. Make sure they don’t follow you. Copy that,” he says and hangs up.

“Who?” I ask as we walk to the elevator.

We get in and he presses the button for the lower level. “Reporters.”

The doors glide shut and I lean back against the elevator wall. “What reporters?”

He frowns. “If you would answer your e-mails or phone, you’d know. Sam’s real upset, by the way.”

I smirk. “Yeah, I bet she is. I’m still alive.”

He frowns. “How old are you? Two? You’re a selfish prick, Logan, you know that.”

I run my hand over my beard. “Whatever.”

He crinkles his nose again. “And you reek. How can you stand yourself?”

I smell under my arms. “I don’t smell anything.”

“A pig can’t smell his own shit.”

I raise a brow. “Really?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue. It just sounded good.”

We reach the lower level and step out. I follow him through the laundry area. A woman meets us in the back.

He nods toward the tall middle-aged brunette. “Thanks, Kelly, for all your help.”

She lowers her glasses, looking me over. “Don’t mention it. Just promise me you’ll never bring him back here. Mr. Romano is banned from the Tower.”

I smirk as I walk past her and out a rear entry. There’s a black Rover just outside the door. Lee opens the back passenger door, I get in, and he follows.

He nods to the driver. “Any problems.”

“No, sir.”

“Let’s get going, then.”

We pull out of the alleyway onto the main road. Lee pulls out his phone and begins texting.

I sit back, and look out the window. I haven’t been beyond the front door of the apartment in over a month. It feels odd, the movement making me queasy.

“When was the last time you ate, Logan?”

I continue to look out the window. “What day is it?”

“It’s Tuesday, August twelfth.”

“I don’t know. The eighth, maybe.”

He stops texting. “You haven’t eaten in four days?”

I turn and look at him “Maybe five. If you need the date, the time, and menu item, you can call the doorman, Harvey. Did you know he’s been married five times and has twenty-two kids? The little dude gets around.”

He frowns. “No, Logan, I didn’t know. I’ve been a little too busy to make friends with the Tower doorman.”

“You don’t have to get all bent.”

He puts his phone away. “We need to talk before we get there.”

“Get where?”

“I’m taking you to Sam’s loft.”

I shake my head. “No fucking way. I’m not staying there.”

He rubs his forehead. “Logan, you don’t get a say. I don’t have the time or the manpower to secure another location.”

“I understand like zero”—I gesture a zero—“of what you’re talking about. I don’t need you to
secure a
location
.”