Spencer Cohen Series, Book Two (The Spencer Cohen Series 2) (15 page)

Mrs Landon kept on talking, “I’m on the board of directors at Acacia Foundation. It’s a centre for men and women who are going through the same thing. We help people understand their legal rights and help them with police proceedings. We help them get back on their feet, find them somewhere to live, and employment placement.”

Mr Landon came back into the room carrying another tray. Something on it smelled good. “It’s just leftovers,” he declared, putting the tray in front of Yanni. I doubted Yanni had seen that much food in days. It looked like a fajita mix of beef, rice, and vegetables with flat breads, and Yanni practically inhaled it. When he was done, he sagged back into his seat and closed his eyes.

“Come,” Mr Landon said, standing up, waiting for Yanni to do the same. “You can sleep in the guest room, and we’ll deal with tomorrow after breakfast.”

Yanni picked up his backpack and followed Mr Landon obediently out of the room, and me, Andrew, and his mother watched in silence as they left.

I waited for Mrs Landon to look at me, and I said, “Thank you.”

“You did the right thing,” she said to the both of us. “We’ll work out what he wants to do tomorrow.” She looked at Andrew for a long moment, whether it was because he was still holding my hand, I wasn’t sure. But it seemed to me she wanted a minute alone with him.

“I’ll just take these trays back to the kitchen,” I said, stacking cups and plates, then finally leaving them.

I placed all the dishes in the sink, then set about rinsing everything. Then I thought
fuck it
and filled the sink with hot water and detergent from under the sink and washed everything, and when that was done, I set about it drying it too. By then I’d run out of excuses for heading back in there, but I stopped at the door when I heard they were talking about me.

Mrs Landon said, “…you never mentioned his tattoos.” My heart dropped.

“They’re not just tattoos,” Andrew told her. “They’re scars. Scars made from ink. He wears them for the world to see as daily reminders of who he is. And anyway, I like them. His skin doesn’t define him any more than mine defines me.”

His mother was quiet for a moment, and I contemplated walking in there. Then she said, “He’s a good man. If he was worried enough about a complete stranger to take him in, then that tells me all I need to know.”

“He is, Mom. And he just gets me. He knew more about me in two days than Eli ever did.”

“What’s wrong then? Why are you so troubled over him?”

I almost put my fingertips through the drywall, waiting for him to answer.

“I’m trying to not rush this one, Mom. You know how I was with Eli.”

“Spencer’s different,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“He is.

“You’re in love with him.”

Andrew didn’t answer. There was only silence. Loud, deafening, heart-thumping silence. My stupid heart almost stopped in my chest. My stupid feet were bolted to the floor.

“It’s written all over your face, Andrew,” his mother said.

After the longest second, he answered. “I do.”

And I finally breathed, relief and excitement and even a little nervous dread filled my entire body. My blood warmed and coursed erratically through my veins, and those foolish butterflies swarmed my throat. But the sound of a door closing nearby set my feet in motion, and I went back into the lounge room the same time Mr Landon did. “I think he’s asleep already,” he said.

I felt pale and clammy after hearing Andrew’s admission—insecurities in my own worth manifested in physical traits—but if Andrew noticed, he didn’t say. He stood and smiled at me. I wasn’t sure what I should say or do now that we were alone with his parents, but I didn’t have time to wonder for long. Andrew put his arm around my waist. “We’ll get going, yes?”

“Yes, I’ll make some phone calls,” Mrs Landon said. “Pre-empt his needs, if he should decide to let us help him. The Foundation will find a spot for him.”

“And if he doesn’t want help?” I asked, without really meaning to.

“We can’t help him if he doesn’t want it,” she said. “But he’s safe tonight, and that’s more than he had yesterday.”

“I really am thankful,” I told them. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Andrew rubbed his hand on my back. “You did the right thing, Spencer.”

His mother smiled kindly. “Can I get you boys something to eat?”

“No, Mom,” Andrew said. “We’ll get going. But I’ll call you tomorrow to see how he’s getting on.”

She put her hand to Andrew’s face. “Thank you for bringing him here. We’ll look after him.” Then she looked at me. “He said you wouldn’t leave him.”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t. He’s got no one, and I know what that’s like.”

She glanced at Andrew but smiled back at me. “You’re a good one. I think it speaks volumes about character when one behaves in such a manner. But when you do such a kindness when no one is looking and there is no reward, it says even more.” She kissed Andrew’s cheek and whispered, “He’s a keeper.”

I almost died of blushing and swallowing my tongue, which only made her smile even more fondly at me. Mr Landon shook my hand again, then hugged Andrew before walking back into the kitchen.

Andrew’s mother walked us to the door with her usual grace and elegance and waited until we were in the car. She waved as we drove down the drive, and only when we were through the security gates, did he hold out his free hand for me to hold. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

“What a day.”

He smiled sadly at me. “A weird one, huh?”

“Just a little. Um, your parents…”

“My parents, what?”

“They’re famous, or something.”

He gave me a quiet laugh. “Or something. I told you they were in theatre.”

“You didn’t say they were famous.”

“Well, they’re not
that
famous. You didn’t recognise them.”

I groaned and put my free hand to cover my eyes. “They must think I’m some uncultured heathen. Were those like Oscars or Emmys on their mantel? I think I’ll die if they are.”

He laughed again. “Tonys. Well, one Tony among others.”

I whined. I knew next to nothing about theatre acting, but even I knew what a Tony was. “Oh God.”

Andrew squeezed my hand. “Poor Yanni thought he was on some episode of Punk’d.”

“He recognised them straight away.”

“He’s studying stage acting, so I’m not surprised.”

“Ugh. I’ll have to apologise.”

He laughed again. “No you won’t. They liked you Spencer. In fact, I think they liked that you didn’t have a clue who they were. Proof that you didn’t want to be with me because of family connections. This is LA after all, where every second person is a next-big-thing wannabe.”

I snorted. “Believe me, I can’t act or sing.”

He smiled at me as he drove. “They liked you just the way you are.”

“They’re remarkable people.”

“They are. They do a fair bit of charity work and fundraising. The Acacia Foundation is my mother’s brainchild.”

I sighed and leaned back in my seat. My head was still swimming. This day had been a dozen emotions on repeat. Andrew went to a drive-thru and got us burgers and fries, and seeing Emilio’s shop was shut and the lights were turned off, we went straight up to my flat. We fell on the couch and devoured our burgers. I moaned after the first bite. “Oh my God, this is soul food.”

He laughed. “Saturated fats have healing properties,” he said, shoving some fries in his mouth.

When I was done, as I cleaned up my flat, my safe haven, and had a belly full of food, my thoughts went back to Yanni. Andrew brought his empty drink into the kitchen. “Why the frown?” he asked softly.

“Just thinking.”

“About Yanni?”

I nodded.

Andrew put his arms around me and held me tight. How he knew what I needed the moment I needed it, I’ll never know, but I buried my face in his neck. “I’ve never seen someone so scared,” I mumbled. “He was petrified.”

Andrew pulled back and traced his thumb down the side of my face. “You saw yourself in him, didn’t you?”

I stared at him. I felt stripped raw, skinless, and without any defences. But I nodded. “Yes.”

He kissed me then, hard and soft at the same time, with a fierce but gentle fervour. He tasted of salt from the fries he’d eaten, but there was emotion on his tongue, in his hands, in the way he kissed me. And when he pulled back for a breath, his eyes were dark, and there was no mistake—no mistake at all—what he wanted.

I wanted it too. I wanted him to take me to bed, to be inside me. I wanted to feel the power and emotion of his entire body. I wanted to feel connected to him in every possible way.

Then I remembered…

Oh, fuck
. I laughed and put my forehead to his cheek. “Oh, you’re not going to believe this.”

He looked at me, confused. “What?”

“I was going to buy condoms today on my way home. But then the whole Yanni thing happened and I forgot.” I sighed, like the universe had conspired against me. “I don’t have any here.”

Andrew surprised me by laughing. “You know what?”

“The world hates me?”

He kissed me with smiling lips. “Well, there’s that. But let’s just go to bed anyway. Not for sex, let’s just go to bed. Today’s been… well, today’s been… tiring.”

I sighed. “It sure has.”

As I flipped the lights off, I saw the vinyl record he’d brought with him when he turned up earlier. I’d forgotten about it. I slowly picked it up and looked at him. It was literally a dozen of my favourite songs played on piano. The most perfect gift from the most perfect guy, who had only a short while ago admitted to his mother that he was in love with me. A confession I still had to process. “Andrew.” I swallowed hard. “I…” Unable to think, unable to speak, I just shook my head.

He took my hand and leaned against me. “I know,” he whispered. “Spencer, I know.” And with that, he took me to bed.

We stripped to our underwear, and we lay in the barely lit darkness. He rested his head on my chest and pulled my arm around his shoulder, where he took my arm and inspected it. “What does this tattoo mean?” he asked.

On my left forearm were six roses, drawn exactly opposite the ravens on my right arm. I explained the roses were for every year Aunt Marvie took me in. Above the roses were the words ‘The Impossible Dream’ for her favourite song. I explained the five stars in the Southern Cross formation was for Australia, and the compass was to remind me of the direction I was going.

He replied with soft kisses to my bare chest every so often, and when I was too tired to speak, he hummed my favourite song, “Hallelujah.” And although I couldn’t be sure, I think he skimmed his fingers across my chest like I was a piano, until I fell asleep.

And without my consent, with my defences in ruins, while my brain was sleeping, my stupid heart went and fell headfirst into love.

I woke up when Andrew knelt on the bed and kissed me goodbye. “I have to go home, grab my gear, and get my arse to the gym before work.”

“Your arse can stay here,” I said, barely able to open my eyes enough to see it was too early for coherent conversation.

He laughed and tweaked my nipple before he climbed off the bed. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll call you later. We still on for dinner tonight?”

The cogs in my mind turned over sleepily. Dinner… dinner… Friday night dinner. I was buying everyone dinner tonight. “Oh, yeah. Dinner. For sure.”

“I’ll just come by after work.”

“Cool.” I rolled over and pulled his pillow under my arm and hugged it instead.

“Don’t get up or anything,” he said sarcastically.

I didn’t open my eyes. “No intention.”

“I can see that.” He climbed back on the bed, fully dressed, pressed his dick to my arse, and whispered in my ear. “Your mission for today, should you choose to accept it, is to buy some freakin’ condoms.”

Well, now I was awake.

I tried to roll over and grab him to keep him in bed, but he jumped back quickly. My arms caught nothing but air, and I fell heavily back onto the bed, exhausted at the effort. “I hate you.”

He laughed as he walked out. “No you don’t.”

I heard the front door close, followed by silence. I was left alone with nothing but his lingering scent and his absence and a smile on my face. And raging morning wood, thanks to his dick against my arse. And a distant thought I couldn’t quite remember, an inkling, not a memory, more of a feeling, tugged at my periphery.

Then it hit me, like a snowball to the face, or an armful of puppies, I couldn’t quite decide. My last thought before falling asleep last night was a realisation that I was falling in love with Andrew.

Well, not me exactly. My stupid, traitorous heart. The very wall I’d built around my emotional wellbeing, made up of a patchwork of broken promises and blistering hurt, amongst other miscellaneous things, had sprung a leak.

I didn’t know what to make of it. I didn’t know what to do. I should have seen this coming when I’d decided to give this whole
boyfriends
thing a try. I should have known where it was headed.

To make myself vulnerable was something I swore I would never do to myself again. It was a survival thing. After I’d suffered an incomprehensible betrayal by those I loved the most, I promised myself to never let it happen again.

To trust someone with your heart was the most frightening thing a person could do. It wasn’t just frightening, it was debilitating. My heart started to beat faster, almost to a panicked state. “Don’t know why
you’re
worried,” I said out loud to my heart. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”

Then I realised I’d just talked to my own heart like it was sitting beside me, and I wondered if my stupid brain had finally flipped its shit. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, two seconds away from calling for the white padded truck, when my phone beeped. I reached over and grabbed it only to see it was a message from Andrew.

The drugstore down the road is open. I just drove past it.

I smiled at the screen, and my freak out lessened a bit. I quickly replied.
Don’t text and drive.

I’m stuck at a stop light. Have you got them yet?

I’m still in bed. Getting a little desperate, are we?

No. Not a little. A lot.

I laughed.
Shame you left. I guess I’ll have to wank by myself.

His reply took a while
. I hate you.

No you don’t,
I replied. And what I’d heard him tell his mother last night played through my mind. He loved me; he didn’t hate me at all.

This weekend I’ll show you how much I hate you. You better buy in bulk.

I burst out laughing, my inner meltdown was almost forgotten.
Deal.

A lot earlier than I normally got up, I rolled out of bed and took a shower, got dressed, and headed straight to the chemist. God forbid if I got side-tracked again and forgot to buy the condoms. Andrew’d never forgive me. I picked up the biggest pack they had, then thought better of it and grabbed a second pack as well. I was gonna hold him to this deal. We’d done well to make it to this weekend. I had high expectations and little doubt it was going to be worth every second.

I got back home and threw the package on my bed. Two bulk packs of frangers and a bottle of lube and a pack of jelly beans spilled out on the still-rumpled sheets. I snapped a pic on my phone and emailed it to him with the message,
My end of the deal is complete. Now you just need to hold up your end of the deal.

He didn’t reply for an hour or so, and when my phone beeped, I was downstairs explaining to Emilio and Daniela what had happened when we took Yanni to Andrew’s parents’ house. I took out my phone, and I guessed, looking at the clock, that Andrew would have just gotten to work after the gym.
What’s the candy for?

I replied,
Stamina. Yours, not mine.

When I re-pocketed my phone, both Emilio and Daniela were staring at me. I tried to wipe the smile off my face. They both gave me fond smiles, kinda like I’d imagine proud parents would look at their kid when they were all grown up. “What?”

Emilio shook his head slowly. “You have it bad, my friend.”

I groaned. “I’m trying not to think about that, thanks very much. I had a minor freak out this morning, and I might have heard Andrew tell his mother last night that he was in love with me, and my stupid brain packed up and left—”

“Wait, what?” Daniela interrupted. “You heard Andrew say what?”

I buried my face in my hands. “Ugh. I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what to say to this arsehole Lance.” I looked at the clock again. How was it just nine o’clock? “I’ve been up for hours already. Normally I’m not even out of bed yet. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Daniela put both hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, Spencer.”

I took a deep breath, and it was funny. I didn’t remember not breathing, but I clearly needed to. I felt a bit better.

“Of course he loves you,” she said, her eyes full of kindness. “And it’s okay to let yourself love him too. He’s a good man, a kind heart.”

I tried to answer, to object, but my realisation that I might already love him stayed unsaid. It was one thing to admit it to myself, but to say it out loud made that shit real. As if the universe had some no take-backs, no returns clause, like kids in a playground.

Daniela put her hand to my cheek and said something in Spanish, which I didn’t understand. Then she said it in English, “You deserve him.”

I filled my lungs with the deepest breath I could manage and let it out slowly, trying to stave off the impending panic attack.

“Okay,” Emilio said, clapping his hands together. He must have known I needed a change of direction in conversation. “Let’s discuss our plans for Lance.”

I looked at him, confused. “Our plans?”

He grinned. “Of course, brother. I think some Mexican persuasion might be in order.”

Now I was really lost. “What?”

“Anyone who hits the person they’re supposed to love—man, woman, makes no difference—needs a lesson in how to show some respect. We should teach him the Mexican way.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “Do I even want to know what that means?” I’d never known Emilio to be aggressive in any way. “You’re not seriously talking about roughing this guy up?”

He laughed. “Give me some credit, my friend. Call Lance the Tosser. Make an appointment to see him, and we’ll go pay him a visit at his work, yeah? I’ll get my cousins to come with us. It’ll be fun.”

I stared at him.

Emilio held out his fist. “Trust.”

I had no clue what I was in for, but I trusted Emilio implicitly. I bumped my fist to his. “Trust.”

* * * *

After I’d helped Lola most of the morning, I left a message for Andrew to call me in his lunch break, and three hours later my phone rang. “Hey, what’s up?”

Just hearing his voice made me smile. “Have you heard from your parents? I was just wondering how Yanni was doing.”

“I have. I spoke to my mom earlier. She said he was much better this morning. They think they’ve found him a place, but Mom doesn’t want to rush him. I think she likes him. She was very impressed with his dedication to acting.”

“Did she mention Lance and what Yanni wanted to do?”

“Well, Lance asking you to find him was a breach of his restraining order conditions, directly or indirectly. I can’t remember what she said exactly. He wasn’t too keen on going back to the police, but my mother can be pretty persuasive.” Andrew took a breath. “Can I ask why?”

“I’m going to see him.”

“Oh, Spencer, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he started to say. “The guy is clearly not stable.”

“Emilio’s coming with me,” I told him. “It’s going to be epic.”

“Do I want to know?”

I laughed. “Probably not. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”

“Please be safe.”

I sighed into the phone. “I will be. And thank you. For worrying, I guess.”

He answered with a smile in his voice. “No problem.
I guess
.”

After we’d said goodbye, I slid my phone into my pocket and looked at the three guys coming with me. Emilio and his two cousins Ricky and Paul. Emilio was the most placid, friendliest, family-oriented guy I knew. I doubted he could even hurt a fly. But seeing him and his cousins wearing the black suits they wore to their grandfather’s funeral, with their hair slicked back and tattoos visible up their necks and on their knuckles, I had to admit, they looked pretty badass.

Emilio grinned at me. “You ready?”

“Hell yes I am.”

“Wait!” Daniela cried. “I need to get photos. You guys look great!”

Some happy snaps later we left, and on the drive into the city, I told Ricky and Paul what I knew, considering they were now helping us. I’d made an appointment to see Lance in his office. His personal assistant didn’t seem too happy about it, but when she told Lance my name, he said he’d see me. I might have omitted the fact I was bringing company.

Emilio had asked his cousins to join him. Both heavily tattooed, Ricky was a baker by trade and Paul worked as a courier driver, both nice guys who worked early mornings and had afternoons free. As soon as Emilio had asked for their help and told them briefly why, they didn’t even hesitate.

I had to force myself not to smile as we walked into Lance’s city building. I wore my usual chinos but added a jacket, though I doubted anyone noticed or cared about me. It was the three Mexican-mafia-looking dudes who flanked me most people balked at.

Lance’s assistant stared at us as we approached her desk. “Spencer Cohen,” I told her with my usual disarming smile. Emilio, Ricky, and Paul stood back with stoic faces, and the poor startled woman eyed the briefcase Emilio held. It held some papers and a few tattoo magazines in case x-ray machines thought an empty case was suspicious, but she didn’t know that. “I’m here for a three o’clock meeting with Lance.”

“Of course,” she whispered. She pressed a button on her phone. “Spencer Cohen is here to see you.”

“Send him in,” he replied curtly.

She led us to his door, and slimy Lance smiled when he saw me. It quickly slid off his face when Emilio, Ricky, and Paul walked in behind me.

It was a nice office with a pretty decent view of the city, and the glass interior walls gave his colleagues full view of us.

And they were watching.

Lance still stood behind his desk, I planted myself in the chair directly across from him, Emilio sat beside me, and Ricky and Paul stood at the door, their tattooed hands clasped in front, and they stared straight ahead. Emilio put the briefcase on the desk. I crossed one ankle across my knee—looking as relaxed as could be—while Lance struggled to sit in his chair. “Spencer…?” He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”

“Nice office,” I said, nodding slowly and taking my time to look around. I made a point of looking at his watching colleagues, just in case he wasn’t aware they were staring. “I found Yanni.”

The piece of shit swallowed hard, and his eyes shifted nervously. “How is he?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Now. He’s in a safe house where you can’t ever find him.”

Lance blanched. He knew. He knew we knew the truth. He shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that,” I said. “What did you think would happen? Did you think I’d willingly drag a lamb back to slaughter? Or did you do it just to fuck with his head? Or just because you could? Is it a power thing? Is that what you think? That it would have been quicker to lure Yanni back in rather than lure in some other unsuspecting kid you could belt the shit out of to make yourself feel better?”

Lance paled. “I’ll call security,” he said weakly.

I laughed and sat back in my chair. “That’s right. You would. Because you’re a coward. Only a coward, a spineless fucking coward, would ever raise his fist in anger to someone smaller, weaker…” I sneered at him. “Yet you’d squeal for help when you felt threatened. You’re a worthless piece of shit.”