“WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN? And are you sure it’s going to happen today?
“I offered to pay off Liam’s bar tab, which is substantial. It’ll happen today.”
Chloe and I are sitting in The Pine Loft Coffee Shop, eating the best, butteriest croissants known to God or man on Tuesday morning, when two very different men walk in. One, I recognize right away. Early thirties, tall, dark, and handsome yuppie type with a big smile and a sharp suit—my landlord, Alban Wymark. He looks too nice to be a lawyer, let alone a warlock.
The other one makes me swallow my coffee too fast. I’ve never seen someone who looks like... I don’t know. Those super pale vampire heartthrob guys? Like a cross between an Anne Rice actor and an anime heartthrob?
“Don’t stare,” Chloe whispers.
“I’m not,” I whisper back, even though I am.
“Oooh, sweetie, who isthisbig papa bear?” Mr. Sex Personified sits down and smiles. He has teeth that start with fangs and end in a smile that’s too wide.
Chloe tilts her head. “I didn’t know you worked on such a broad base of clientele, Liam.”
I shift uncomfortably. I’m flattered, but also freaked out. “I’m Jared,” I cough.
“I’m Liam, recently arrived Incubus, and don’t you worry, you sweet cinnamon roll. I prefer my meals more along the lines of Chloe’s size and with all of the accompanying ‘equipment,’ but I’m ravenous this morning.” He sighs dramatically and crosses his legs in long black leather pants, showing off black leather boots with high, clunky heels and silver studs.
“David Bowie!” I cry out, turning heads. With his pale features, spiked, uneven hair, and thin form in dramatically high-heeled boots, I finally figure out who this guy reminds me of.
“Well, I’ll do it for free now,” Mr. Incubus says, beaming at me. “Chloe, is this hunk of goodness yours?”
“Yes, he is. And stop acting like a sleazy sex bomb. You’ll give him the wrong impression.” Chloe rolls her eyes and pulls a layer of flaky goodness off her croissant.
Alban comes back with two coffees. Liam uncrosses his legs, loses his predatory smile, and his features relax into something much more... wholesome. I think that’s the word I want.
“Patsy Lochenko is sleeping off one of my little screams in a jail cell,” Chloe begins.
“That’s my ex. She hit Chloe. Backed into her with a car,” I speak up, hands clenching on the tabletop.
“And she’s a rude, insulting, petty bitch. Pretty, though,” Chloe grudgingly admits.
The two men catch my eye, and I shake my head vehemently. “Not once you know her,” I explain.
“The problem is—she has a shady lawyer who keeps taking what belongs to Jared. His house. His dog. His fax machine.”
“Fax machine?” Alban’s eyebrows arch.
Chloe ignores him. “Now, she wants half of any bonuses he earns for publishing his research. Patsy’s going to claim she gets half since he completed a lot of his research while they were still married. I sensed it when I heard her speaking. I just... I know.”
I’m puzzled about how all of this works, but Mr. Incubus and Mr. Warlock nod with sympathetic faces.
“I brought a copy of my current alimony agreement and the divorce settlement. There’s this line in there about any property acquired during the marriage—physical or intellectual—shall be evenly divided.”
“That’s poorly worded. Any proceeds from the intellectual property that were acquired during the duration of the marriage—maybe, but this is really a shakedown. It’s got loopholes a mile wide. How can she determine what intellectual property wasacquiredduring the marriage.”
“She’s claiming any research and writing I do from here on out is based on knowledge I gained then.”
“Why wouldn’t it be based on knowledge you gained before you married her? Who’s to determine where knowledge starts?” Liam demands, crossing his long, slender fingers under his chin and resting his sharply angled jaw on them. “Isn’t everything you know now based on your ability to read and do basic math? I assume you’re some sort of scientist or something.”
“You’re right, and yes, one could argue that without basic reading and math skills, all research would come to a halt. I wouldn’t be able to do calculations, examine data, or read reports. I wouldn’t be able to write my own findings up, either.”
Liam and Alban exchange glances. “And they say my kind are predators,” Liam mutters with a low whistle.
“And she got the house? The dog?”
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “I let her keep him in the end, I guess. She said moving Kep from house to house or sticking him in a tiny apartment wouldn’t be fair to him. But she’s not really... She always said she loved animals, but she doesn’t like the mess they make. She didn’t really know that until after we had a dog.” I hurriedly sip my own coffee to wash down the pain in my throat. I shouldn’t have gotten a dog with her. I shouldn’t have left Kep behind. I should have fought.
