Police were called the home of Malcolme Landgraab three times last week due to noise disturbance. Each time the noise was due to a loud party, often lasting into the wee hours of the morning. Mysteriously, by the time the police arrived the only person present was Mr. Landgraab.
"It's a disgrace," says neighbor Denise Jacquet. "Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning."
Landgraab has been fined and given a warning that next time he will be asked to do community service.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Naughty, Naughty
They had barely gotten started when the front door opened.
"Peyton?" Malcome called from downstairs.
They jumped out of bed, laughing silently, he pulling on his pants as he hopped around the room, looking for his boots, she pulling on a bathrobe and putting a towel turban on her head.
"Just a minute," she called. "I was just going to take a bath." She headed downstairs to meet her sugar daddy as Drake pulled on his shirt and stepped onto the balcony.
He smelled smoke and saw the flare of a cigarette.
"Naughty, naughty," said Tika.
"Oh, hello," Drake said.
"Having fun?"
"Yes, actually. You gonna squeal on me?"
"Nah," said Tika. "I like the thought of my brother as a cuckold. I just followed to see what he got up to every Tuesday. Now I know."
"Your ... what?"
"My brother. Half brother, actually. He arranged an accident for me, you see, a long time ago, but some vampire rescued me--must remember to thank him some day--and I lost my memory on the way to becoming the living dead. But I remember it all now."
"And back to seek your revenge, I suppose," Drake said, bumming a cigarette from her.
"Oh, yeah," she said.
"Out to destroy him? Push him off a bridge?"
"Oh, no, nothing so boring as that," she said, with an evil grin. "I'm back to make his life a living hell."
"Peyton?" Malcome called from downstairs.
They jumped out of bed, laughing silently, he pulling on his pants as he hopped around the room, looking for his boots, she pulling on a bathrobe and putting a towel turban on her head.
"Just a minute," she called. "I was just going to take a bath." She headed downstairs to meet her sugar daddy as Drake pulled on his shirt and stepped onto the balcony.
He smelled smoke and saw the flare of a cigarette.
"Naughty, naughty," said Tika.
"Oh, hello," Drake said.
"Having fun?"
"Yes, actually. You gonna squeal on me?"
"Nah," said Tika. "I like the thought of my brother as a cuckold. I just followed to see what he got up to every Tuesday. Now I know."
"Your ... what?"
"My brother. Half brother, actually. He arranged an accident for me, you see, a long time ago, but some vampire rescued me--must remember to thank him some day--and I lost my memory on the way to becoming the living dead. But I remember it all now."
"And back to seek your revenge, I suppose," Drake said, bumming a cigarette from her.
"Oh, yeah," she said.
"Out to destroy him? Push him off a bridge?"
"Oh, no, nothing so boring as that," she said, with an evil grin. "I'm back to make his life a living hell."
Rivals
Jax Delacroix hated his best friend, Nicholas Sullivan, but nobody knew that but him.
Everyone loved Nicky. He was the kind of guy you could call at three a.m. because your car had run out of gas. He was the kind of guy who took the time to make strangers smile, hold doors for people, carry their groceries, scoop up a kid if he was about to get into trouble. Everyone loved him, and it didn't make any difference that he was the ugliest man alive, because inside Nicholas Sullivan was beautiful, and that's what people saw.
And oh, was he ugly. He had a nose the size of a Jack Russell terrier, a huge peninsula that dominated his face and made him look like a funhouse mirror. Nicholas was well aware he wasn't handsome, but it didn't bother him a bit. He made jokes about his own nose, called himself Cyrano de Sullivan.
Jax, on the other hand, was handsome. Too handsome for his own good, he'd overheard his Uncle Alec say one day. He had exotic blue eyes that were striking in his dark-skinned face, strong cheekbones and a perfectly sized, perfectly shaped nose. He could have been a model. He was charming, debonair, suave, all the things that could coax a young woman to his bed for a night or two, until he tired of her.
All of these things might have led another man to pity Nicholas, not hate him. Or even admire him for being so completely who he was.
But Nicholas Sullivan had the love of the one woman Jax Delacroix was sure he could not live without. Her name was Alexandra du Maurier, and she was as breathtakingly beautiful as Nicholas was ugly. A beauty who was hopelessly in love with her beast.
And so Jax Delacroix hated Nick Sullivan, his best friend since childhood.
And nobody knew it but him.
Everyone loved Nicky. He was the kind of guy you could call at three a.m. because your car had run out of gas. He was the kind of guy who took the time to make strangers smile, hold doors for people, carry their groceries, scoop up a kid if he was about to get into trouble. Everyone loved him, and it didn't make any difference that he was the ugliest man alive, because inside Nicholas Sullivan was beautiful, and that's what people saw.
And oh, was he ugly. He had a nose the size of a Jack Russell terrier, a huge peninsula that dominated his face and made him look like a funhouse mirror. Nicholas was well aware he wasn't handsome, but it didn't bother him a bit. He made jokes about his own nose, called himself Cyrano de Sullivan.
Jax, on the other hand, was handsome. Too handsome for his own good, he'd overheard his Uncle Alec say one day. He had exotic blue eyes that were striking in his dark-skinned face, strong cheekbones and a perfectly sized, perfectly shaped nose. He could have been a model. He was charming, debonair, suave, all the things that could coax a young woman to his bed for a night or two, until he tired of her.
All of these things might have led another man to pity Nicholas, not hate him. Or even admire him for being so completely who he was.
But Nicholas Sullivan had the love of the one woman Jax Delacroix was sure he could not live without. Her name was Alexandra du Maurier, and she was as breathtakingly beautiful as Nicholas was ugly. A beauty who was hopelessly in love with her beast.
And so Jax Delacroix hated Nick Sullivan, his best friend since childhood.
And nobody knew it but him.
Love on the Side
Peyton had everything she had ever wanted. She had a big, beautiful house with its own indoor pool. She had a pile of pretty clothes. She had a red sportscar. She couldn't quite seem to break into showbiz, but she planned to keep trying. She had a rich boyfriend whom she despised with every fiber of her being.
Well, OK, the last one she hadn't counted on.
Malcome Landgraab collected pretty things and then set them on a shelf, and Peyton was quickly discovering she was one of them. Malcome never spent the night. It was hi, how are you, let's go to bed, and then bam, he was gone. No dinners or romantic trips to Venice. Just her, in her house, like Barbie in a box, hidden from the world like he was ashamed of her. Or worse, bored.
And for that, she hated him. She hated the casual way he treated her, like she wasn't special. When she pouted he pointed out he'd spent quite a pretty penny on this nice house and if that wasn't good enough she was free to move out. So she'd try to pretend she was leaving, but he always beat her at her own game. And she'd end up backing down, and staying. And to get back at him she'd go out with some other guy, who, if he gave her nice presents, might get lucky. Peyton liked presents.
She was a little afraid of Malcome and worried, sometimes, what he might do if he found out she was cheating. She had seen his dark side and it wasn't pretty. Like when his long lost sister had returned. He hadn't been happy at all, and Peyton had borne the brunt of his anger. He hadn't harmed her, but he had frightened her. He had been so cold, so angry. And Peyton didn't frighten easily.
Oh, how she hated him. But she lacked the strength to leave. She was afraid to, and besides, this is what she had always wanted.
And Peyton had a secret. An exciting, naughty secret whose very touch thrilled her to the core. If Malcome ever found out ... well, he wouldn't. He just wouldn't. They were very careful.
So tonight as soon as Malcome was gone she lay in bed waiting, tingling with anticipation. She heard a poof outside and a knock on her second-story balcony door.
"He gone?" asked Drake Callahan.
She pulled him to her with a kiss.
"Guess so," he said, smiling, and tossed her onto the bed.
Well, OK, the last one she hadn't counted on.
Malcome Landgraab collected pretty things and then set them on a shelf, and Peyton was quickly discovering she was one of them. Malcome never spent the night. It was hi, how are you, let's go to bed, and then bam, he was gone. No dinners or romantic trips to Venice. Just her, in her house, like Barbie in a box, hidden from the world like he was ashamed of her. Or worse, bored.
And for that, she hated him. She hated the casual way he treated her, like she wasn't special. When she pouted he pointed out he'd spent quite a pretty penny on this nice house and if that wasn't good enough she was free to move out. So she'd try to pretend she was leaving, but he always beat her at her own game. And she'd end up backing down, and staying. And to get back at him she'd go out with some other guy, who, if he gave her nice presents, might get lucky. Peyton liked presents.
She was a little afraid of Malcome and worried, sometimes, what he might do if he found out she was cheating. She had seen his dark side and it wasn't pretty. Like when his long lost sister had returned. He hadn't been happy at all, and Peyton had borne the brunt of his anger. He hadn't harmed her, but he had frightened her. He had been so cold, so angry. And Peyton didn't frighten easily.
Oh, how she hated him. But she lacked the strength to leave. She was afraid to, and besides, this is what she had always wanted.
And Peyton had a secret. An exciting, naughty secret whose very touch thrilled her to the core. If Malcome ever found out ... well, he wouldn't. He just wouldn't. They were very careful.
So tonight as soon as Malcome was gone she lay in bed waiting, tingling with anticipation. She heard a poof outside and a knock on her second-story balcony door.
"He gone?" asked Drake Callahan.
She pulled him to her with a kiss.
"Guess so," he said, smiling, and tossed her onto the bed.
Here We Go Again
"Nwad," Henry asked mildly, looking out the window onto the darkened front lawn, "Why does a vampire keep knocking over my trashcan?"
She came to stand beside him and his entire body was aware of her presence, like a cool breeze on a hot day. He knew that was corny but that's exactly what she reminded him of.
"Oh," she said, watching the vampire's retreating back. "That's Drake. I'm sorry about that."
They went outside together to pick up the trash.
"Remember when I said I was an example of, be careful what you wish for?" she asked as she set the can upright.
"Yes," he said, putting the rest of the trash back into the bag, which fortunately hadn't spilled much, and returning it to the can. They headed back to the house.
"At one time in my life I wanted nothing more than a man to call my own," she admitted. "Now I realize I should have been more specific."
Henry laughed, and she smiled ruefully.
"I mean, sure, it was fun for the first ten years or so," she said, "Don't get me wrong. It's just, well, Drake's idea of elevated conversation is discussing the difference between a Ducati and a Harley, and his idea of culture is a football game."
They washed their hands together at the kitchen sink. Henry loved the way she smelled, like jasmine. They were alone. Alexandra was on yet another date with Nicholas.
"Just how long do faeries live, anyway?" he asked, amazed that she would shrug off a decade like that. Sure, there was the green stuff, but overuse had its price.
She shrugged. "Here? I don't know. Where I come from, forever."
Henry shook his head. Forever. What would that be like, he wondered. Would life seem more precious, or less so, if you had forever, if you never aged? It would be a bit like being a vampire, and that was something Henry had never wanted for himself.
"So, it grew old," he said.
"Yes," she said, snuggling up to him. "I love that you take me to art shows, and can talk about things that I am interested in, and that you are truly mine." She pulled back and looked at him askance. "You are mine, right?"
"Honey, I don't have the energy or time to cheat," he said, truthfully, and when she frowned he added, "And who would want to when he had you?"
She seemed satisfied.
They sat together on the sofa and cuddled, not saying much for a while.
"I am sorry about the trashcan," she said after a pause.
He shrugged. "No big deal."
"I would like to move in with you, I think," she said. "The toddlers are driving me mad. Luna lets River do whatever she wants and gets cross if I try to discipline her. And besides with two of them, there's always someone underfoot. It's not a big house, and there are too many of us there."
"How is Sparrow?" Henry asked, feeling guilty for not spending more time with the child, who was after all his grandson.
"Fine," she said. "Happy, I think. He and River are quite good friends, and his dad comes to see him often."
"Good," Henry said, distracted, not forgetting what she had said, but delaying answering her. Was he ready for her to move in? Would she one day cheat on him too? He knew it was in her nature, even if she said or thought otherwise. He didn't blame her for it, but he wasn't sure he wanted to get his heart broken, again.
"You do not answer me," she said, sadly. "You don't want me to move in."
"No," he said, "it's not that. I do want you to move in. I'm just ... "
"You are worried that I will cheat on you, like what's her name," she said.
"Maybe."
"Love doesn't come with guarantees," said Nwad. "And life is full of surprises. Who knew you and I would find each other again, after all these years, and that I would end up carrying your baby?"
"My ... what?!!!" Henry stared at her.
She smiled at him. "Your baby. I didn't want to say anything until I knew if you wanted me in your life for real, or not. But I think you do."
Henry felt ... he didn't know how he felt. But he did love her, and giving up present happiness for future what-ifs felt cowardly and silly. "Yes, of course I do," he said, and kissed her. "When can you move in?"
"Tomorrow," she said, "Only, I will not marry you, OK? I just ... faeries don't do well when we're constrained. We're much better if not. Do you understand?"
He smiled. "Honey, been there, done that. A piece of paper," he said, slightly bitterly, "means nothing. You want to stay, you'll stay."
"I knew you'd understand," she said, and then suddenly jumped up and ran for the bathroom, looking slightly green.
Here we go again, Henry thought, and followed her to see if she needed him.
She came to stand beside him and his entire body was aware of her presence, like a cool breeze on a hot day. He knew that was corny but that's exactly what she reminded him of.
"Oh," she said, watching the vampire's retreating back. "That's Drake. I'm sorry about that."
They went outside together to pick up the trash.
"Remember when I said I was an example of, be careful what you wish for?" she asked as she set the can upright.
"Yes," he said, putting the rest of the trash back into the bag, which fortunately hadn't spilled much, and returning it to the can. They headed back to the house.
"At one time in my life I wanted nothing more than a man to call my own," she admitted. "Now I realize I should have been more specific."
Henry laughed, and she smiled ruefully.
"I mean, sure, it was fun for the first ten years or so," she said, "Don't get me wrong. It's just, well, Drake's idea of elevated conversation is discussing the difference between a Ducati and a Harley, and his idea of culture is a football game."
They washed their hands together at the kitchen sink. Henry loved the way she smelled, like jasmine. They were alone. Alexandra was on yet another date with Nicholas.
"Just how long do faeries live, anyway?" he asked, amazed that she would shrug off a decade like that. Sure, there was the green stuff, but overuse had its price.
She shrugged. "Here? I don't know. Where I come from, forever."
Henry shook his head. Forever. What would that be like, he wondered. Would life seem more precious, or less so, if you had forever, if you never aged? It would be a bit like being a vampire, and that was something Henry had never wanted for himself.
"So, it grew old," he said.
"Yes," she said, snuggling up to him. "I love that you take me to art shows, and can talk about things that I am interested in, and that you are truly mine." She pulled back and looked at him askance. "You are mine, right?"
"Honey, I don't have the energy or time to cheat," he said, truthfully, and when she frowned he added, "And who would want to when he had you?"
She seemed satisfied.
They sat together on the sofa and cuddled, not saying much for a while.
"I am sorry about the trashcan," she said after a pause.
He shrugged. "No big deal."
"I would like to move in with you, I think," she said. "The toddlers are driving me mad. Luna lets River do whatever she wants and gets cross if I try to discipline her. And besides with two of them, there's always someone underfoot. It's not a big house, and there are too many of us there."
"How is Sparrow?" Henry asked, feeling guilty for not spending more time with the child, who was after all his grandson.
"Fine," she said. "Happy, I think. He and River are quite good friends, and his dad comes to see him often."
"Good," Henry said, distracted, not forgetting what she had said, but delaying answering her. Was he ready for her to move in? Would she one day cheat on him too? He knew it was in her nature, even if she said or thought otherwise. He didn't blame her for it, but he wasn't sure he wanted to get his heart broken, again.
"You do not answer me," she said, sadly. "You don't want me to move in."
"No," he said, "it's not that. I do want you to move in. I'm just ... "
"You are worried that I will cheat on you, like what's her name," she said.
"Maybe."
"Love doesn't come with guarantees," said Nwad. "And life is full of surprises. Who knew you and I would find each other again, after all these years, and that I would end up carrying your baby?"
"My ... what?!!!" Henry stared at her.
She smiled at him. "Your baby. I didn't want to say anything until I knew if you wanted me in your life for real, or not. But I think you do."
Henry felt ... he didn't know how he felt. But he did love her, and giving up present happiness for future what-ifs felt cowardly and silly. "Yes, of course I do," he said, and kissed her. "When can you move in?"
"Tomorrow," she said, "Only, I will not marry you, OK? I just ... faeries don't do well when we're constrained. We're much better if not. Do you understand?"
He smiled. "Honey, been there, done that. A piece of paper," he said, slightly bitterly, "means nothing. You want to stay, you'll stay."
"I knew you'd understand," she said, and then suddenly jumped up and ran for the bathroom, looking slightly green.
Here we go again, Henry thought, and followed her to see if she needed him.
Corwin
It's a boy. His name is Corwin, and he's perfect. He arrived in the middle of a sunny fall afternoon on a day when his daddy had the day off from work. Ten fingers, ten toes. Ellis held him and cried. He's feeding him now while I rest. We've been married two months and he still doesn't let me do a thing for myself. We're happy, just like I'd hoped we would be, and I know he's going to be a good father.
I'm a mother. I'm still in shock over that. In one instant my entire life changed forever. In one instant it was no longer all about me, or Ellis, or anyone except our son.
Our beautiful, beautiful son.
I'm a mother. I'm still in shock over that. In one instant my entire life changed forever. In one instant it was no longer all about me, or Ellis, or anyone except our son.
Our beautiful, beautiful son.
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