Chapter 15

A week has passed since her past sidelined Leigh Anne. It was enough to make her anxiety and paranoia flare up. Leaving her or Theo’s house was an impossible task. She thought she had her OCD under control. Every knob was triple-checked, and every window had to be closed, locked and checked numerous times before she could leave the house.

She didn’t know if she’d see him again. It was too eerily quiet for him to have left without getting what he wanted. And Ethan Klein always got what he wanted. There was no way he would go to town without her as his carry-on.

It wasn’t until the weekend that she could breathe freely. It was the height of spring break when the broad walk would bustle with spectators, players, and drunks. What better way to endure it than singing along with her guitar and tipping the jar at her feet?

In the last few days, she changed her hair color from blonde to brunette. Theo liked the change. Her nails grew, and her clothing got slightly more revealing. She felt good about herself and her relationship until she received an unwelcome face in the crowd...

Ethan

He stood where he thought he’d blend in, but Ethan Klein was never the type to blend into any crowd. His raven waves paired with icicles for eyes made him stand out. Ethan’s presence was an unwelcome distraction. She had no plans to get involved with him, but it strangely intrigued her to know why he was trying to weasel his way back into her life.

As the onlookers filled her hat and swayed to her strumming and singing, she spotted him occasionally weaving in and out of the sea of bodies. It made her uneasy until her eyes landed on Dusty’s and its hot owner. He blew her a kiss and winked at her. She smiled as she sang the chorus again to “Go Your Own Way.”

At midnight, she stopped her set. She wasn’t playing until Dusty’s closed like usual—she had to get up early the next day for a final doctor’s appointment to check her shoulder. As her mob parted and dissipated, she packed up her amp and guitar and limped back to house it at the bar.

On her way out, she brushed her newly moisturized lips against Theo’s and said goodbye. She’d be at his place with Gretel, where they would both await him. Turning back around, he waved at her, and she kissed him.

Leigh Anne had a sinking feeling that she was being watched, but not longingly like when she caught Theo staring occasionally. No, this was a creepy feeling she got—as if you look down a dark, dank, misty pier, where the humidity sinks below the moon, tickling the orange lighting that emanates off the lampposts on the boardwalk, the theme song to The Exorcist plays in the background. Yeah, that’s exactly how she felt.

As she rose from her kneeling position, she knew it wasn’t Theo who approached her. He wouldn’t flaunt his barehanded wealth by wearing one-thousand-dollar Italian leather shoes on Santa Monica Pier. As she arched her neck upward, she hoped it wasn’t who she thought it was. But her hope was dashed dismally as soon as she made eye contact with him.

“Hello, Ms. Klein...” Ethan. It was Ethan. He must’ve hung around well after the group of spring breakers left to continue their evil elsewhere on the pier or in the surrounding nightlife establishments.

Leigh Anne made every attempt to back away, avoiding his glare. Those white-hot eyes that used to make her melt in better times now evoked blatant, unnerving, and persistent disdain.

“Don’t come near me! Never, ever get in my space like that again, Ethan.” She fought the urge to vomit. But she swallowed it back and insisted on moving around him. “Have you been waiting for me this whole time?”

“Of course. I wanted to make sure my future wife was safe. I don’t think I like you doing this kind of thing late at night.” He attempted to stop her again. “If I was your man, I don’t believe I’d allow you to make yourself this sort of spectacle ever again.”

She scoffed, the nerve! Who the fuck does he think he is?

“Well, it’s a blessing that you’re not my man.” Leigh Anne finally pushed off the asphalt and from the curb to head away from him as fast as she could pedal.

“Leigh Anne...” she heard him shouting. Then she stopped.

“Come on, Leigh Anne, I’m joking.”

She got off her bike and watched him jogging after her.

Why am I entertaining this schmuck? She gritted her teeth, tensing her jaw.

“Look, I’m sorry. Truce?” He extended his hand, but rather than accept it, she swatted it away. “Okay, I deserve that.”

“You deserve a whole lot more. What do you want, Mr. Klein?” She could be as condescending as he was. Now, she wasn’t afraid to use that tone on him as she once was.

“Just to talk—only talk.”

Shaking her head, she had internal conflict. Did she need this talk to heal and finally move on? Or can she walk away and accept that a certain part of herself will always be a bit broken? With confidence, she raised her head. She was done being a coward. She had come so far already, and Theo was a big part of that. The least she could do for Theo was try to be as complete as possible. She made her decision—she’d rather sit and talk with Satan than never be able to fill the hole in her heart because she’s never really granted Ethan or herself forgiveness.

“Fine, just talking. I’ll give you an hour. Meet me at the oyster bar at the end of the pier tomorrow at 7:00 p.m.” He nodded curtly, and she peddled off in the opposite direction. Then she paused again, calling to him. “Ethan, I’m serious. This is the only time I will give you. If you stand me up or are late, I’m gone, and I will entertain nothing with you again.”

Again, he bowed his head, and she headed toward Theo’s house.

A Meeting with Satan and the Satanists

“You did what?” Theo hollered as he pounded his fist down onto his granite countertop. “How could you agree to do something so irresponsible and—”

“And what, Theo?” she cut him off, turning on her heel, removing herself from another confrontation. “I’m not doing this with you!

You don’t think I haven’t already called myself every name in the book?”

She knew he thought she was stupid. She wasn’t thinking about how sitting with Ethan would make him feel.

“You think I’m worried about me?” He stood behind her as she looked across the water to Theo's view of the pier and the Ferris wheel from his patio. “I’m not concerned about me. I’m worried about how it’ll affect you.”

He snaked his arms around Leigh Anne’s waist, pulling her flush against him, tucking the top of her head under his chin.

“I’ll be fine, Theo. I’ve taken care of myself fine for five years without you. It won’t change anything. I know what I want.”

Theo spun her around in his arms, and now her cheek pressed against his broad chest. It lulled her into a false sense of security as the rumbling of Theo’s breathing and the extreme thumping of his heart hypnotized her. He’s nervous.

“And what is it you want?” His jaw tensed, then released.

With her eyes closed, she made a silent prayer. Then, in a near whisper, she replied, “You...”

Twenty-four Hours Later...

After her appointment, she returned to her tiny house, checked on Gretel, and packed their travel cases for another night at Theo’s. Gretel almost missed her second human. Leigh Anne has been human since her first miscarriage. Ethan thought she would be good for her. Gretel was the best thing he had ever given her in their married years. Ethan put up no fuss when she took Gretel with her. He wanted no part of that cat, anyway. Theo was the first man Gretel could admit that she liked. But if you made a big deal out of it, she’d scratch your eyes out.

Theo left the house in her care. He’d be working all day and collecting rent from the many office spaces and apartments he owned around town. Then, he was scheduled to tend the bar tonight at Dusty’s. Norm was sick.

If you didn’t know how much Leigh Anne was dreading this night. You'd think this was a date if you didn’t know how much she hated the man she was meeting. A date with Satan himself or his spawn. She hasn’t decided yet. But she knew the hateful glares she’d receive if she didn’t dress the part of the peaceful, submissive ex-wife.

She wore the only dress she owned. The black dress highlighted all the curves she had fought so hard to keep from all the years of poor health and near-successful pregnancies. The lacy detailing covers the form-fitted bodice of the sleek bodycon silhouette. Her favorite feature was the wide cutout that spanned her bust, bordered by scalloped trim that shifted into a sultry mock neck. Sheer lace bell sleeves continued the feminine motif to the wrist with an intricately detailed finish. This was the only dress she kept but never wore when married. It still had the tags on it.

Leigh Anne was never a makeup whore—to the utter disappointment of her mother. But like any obedient daughter of a narcissist, she only wore it to appease her and seek her approval. Approval she never received, anyway. So, in homage to her wonderful mother, she wore as little makeup as possible but with a bold red lip that she knew Ethan hated. The only thing she took any time doing was her hair. She wore her brunette bob in barrel waves that she painstakingly curled with her curling iron, then finger combed it, letting it fall effortlessly in the middle part but bouncing on the ends.

Theo didn’t live far from the restaurant she told Ethan to meet her at. So, she walked there. Getting a table wasn’t hard. Theo owned the building that the restaurant was in. She sat at a table he couldn’t miss her sitting at, but ten minutes passed, and no Ethan. Fifteen minutes passed, and there was still no Ethan. Fifteen minutes turned into thirty. Thirty into forty-five, forty-five turned into four bottles of Lambic, and still no Ethan.

She felt so bad. She finally ordered a salad, ate it, paid the bill, left a generous tip, and left the restaurant. On the way out, she swept the boardwalk to see if she spotted him. No such luck until she raised her eyes from her wristwatch to the bar outside the restaurant, she sat alone for an hour.

Ethan with two women! That sorry sack of shit, she thought to herself. One was someone she thought she’d never see again. Nancy Klein, his mother, sat on his left. Prim, proper, succubus extraordinaire—fatal oleander blossom—sipping a white wine spritzer. The one that shattered her frozen heart for her ex-husband was the very woman he had just divorced. The woman gave her a copy of their divorce decree, Carolyn Klein. Well, I’ll be. That schmuck is still a lying sack of shit.

If this had happened a year after their divorce, she would have fled the scene and cried into her gallon container of Breyers French vanilla ice cream while the “Les Misérables” soundtrack played on her Bluetooth speakers. No, not that woman anymore. She was about to make something she had never made before... a scene.