New Title 7 (16 page)

"Robert liked the same thing when we first got married. Actually it continued for years. He even bought a pair of handcuffs from some downtown shop." She shook her head as the corner of her mouth twitched.

"I can't believe I'm telling you this," she added trying to smile.

"You don't have to say anymore... if you don't want to."

"Oh I do, I do. It's good to get it out. Good to get these things off your chest. Anyhow, I'm not saying
that's
the reason Brandon likes that sort of thing. I don't think it's anything you can inherit." She released a short chuckle. "I used to think I'd gone and done something wrong to deserve it, somehow encouraged Rob. He used to be pretty abusive. Always had a terrible temper. Used to get as
mean
as a rattlesnake."

"Really?"

"Oh dear lord, yes. He'd get stressed at the clinic, even though he never wanted a vacation. He'd come home and take it out on me, sometimes on the kids. I lost count of how many times he scared the daylights out of me."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, he's better now, thank heavens. Guess it's the sorta thing that improves with old age." She hesitated and somehow I knew it'd be the jaw-dropper.

"Rob told me sex helped ease his stress. And whenever I wasn't in the mood he climbed in bed—forced it whether I wanted it or not, because whenever
Robert Levine
wanted it,
Robert Levine
got it. Sonofabitch figured it was his birthright. Can you imagine that?"

I stared.

"Anyway, eight years after Brandon was born, Rob had an affair with some kid right out of high school." Her face hardened. "Rob got the girl pregnant. She had a daughter and they moved to Tulsa."

I sat back, completely blown away.

"Oh I forgave Rob and all that, but I've been hooked on tranqs ever since. It was worse when I found out she had a baby.
Good lord in heaven
. That was a bitter pill knowin' she'd given birth to my husband's child." Scooting forward, she gazed ahead with a distant look in her eyes.

"Brandon has a sister?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yes he does. That girl named her Christina. In fact she turned fifteen not too long ago. I'll never forget her birthday." She laughed, bitterly.

Doris redirected her attention to me, her expression softer. "Men's desires wilt after they age," she said. "The older they get, the tamer they get. Eventually—they stop being so rough." She gave a sad look.

"That's good to know. I'm sorry about Robert, that must've been tough." I didn't know what else to tell her. I was at a loss. In some ways her problems had been worse than mine.

"It's alright." She patted my knee. "Rob's a whole different person now, thank the lord. But what about you? You're welcome to tell me anything else about Brandon. I know he's my son and all, but I don't think you could tell me much that would shock me. Believe me, I've already seen and heard it all."

"Just that Brandon sometimes—forces me to do things. Like Robert did to you."

"Oh
honey
, honest to god, I'd hoped and prayed neither of my boys would grow up to be like their father." She dropped her gaze, covering her lips. "Doesn't seem possible to inherit such a thing," she said through splayed fingers. "But I guess it's true. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, goodness gracious."

"Did you know Brandon hasn't been taking his pills?"

"He hasn't? What about his anti-rejection medication?"

"He's taking those. I'm talking about the ones for his depression and such."

"No I didn't know that, honey. Sounds like you need to have a serious talk with him."

"Unfortunately you're right. I hate to say anything about it. I feel like a nag."

"Honey, to stay married or involved with any Levine man, you
have
to be a nag. It's a necessity when it comes to them."

I nodded. "I'm starting to believe that."

She leaned and gave me a quick hug, stroked my cheek with one finger as she smiled. "I love ya like a daughter already. I really do. You go have that talk with my son. Tell him you love him and want him to keep getting better. You tell him to take those damn pills and get his ass to the shrink. Tell him that." She leaned back.

"I will."

"You do that. Give him an ultimatum whether he likes it or not. It's probably the only kind of language the Levine men understand." She had a fierce look for a second.

"Thank you for talking to me about this. You have no idea how much I appreciate it." I glanced at her while starting for the corridor.

She flashed a sad smile, resumed watching the fire.

Was I brave enough to face Brandon with this ultimatum?

* * *

I
t took me hours to gather courage.

I found Brandon napping on a settee inside the den. Meanwhile I was a nervous
wreck
.

Towering bookcases lined the walls and Tiffany lamps glowed. Brandon didn't fit on the settee and his legs dangled past the arm. An arm covered his eyes as his head rested on an oblong pillow. Nearby, a purple night sky showed through sheer curtains.

It's now or never, Mia.

"Brandon?" Gingerly I palmed his forearm but he didn't move. I called his name three times, too timid to actually
shake
him.

He reminded me of an angel as he lay there with those inviting lips, perfect nose and skin. His dark hair shone, disheveled, stray wisps spiking at the top. His golden arm laid flat at his side, no longer obscuring his eyes.

How was I to know this angel would transition into a devil?

Yeah. I
should've
known.

"Brandon, wake up. I have to talk to you.
Please
." Getting desperate, I nudged him. He alternated his head to the left, right, eyelids lifted and double cerulean hues peeped.

"M—Mia?" His eyelids wilted. "Is something wrong? Damn, why did you wake me?"

"We have to talk. It's very important." I rolled a swivel chair by the settee and dropped down. I cradled my stomach while observing Brandon's moves and expression.

"What's it about?" He raised to a sitting position and rubbed his face with his palms.

Our gazes locked, the feeling in my limbs like cement. Terror gripped me from head to toe, heart to gut.

"I asked you what this is about," he repeated, expression colder, harder as he slanted toward me. "Care to let me know? I
was
in the middle of getting decent sleep for a change."

"If you don't start taking your medication, I'm leaving. You need to see your shrink too." My fingers dug into my stomach as I gauged his reaction. That hard gaze stared back. Unchanged. His lips remained a stiff line, then enlivened and spoke in calm monotone.

"What did you say? I couldn't quite hear you, my sweet angel."

I cleared my throat. "If you don't start taking your pills, I'm going to leave you. And I want you to see your shrink."

"Oh. You want me to take my pills and see my... shrink?" he questioned in the same monotone, leaning further as his bulging eyes riveted to me.

"Yes."

"Or you're going to leave me? Did I get that right, Mia my sweet little angel?"

"Yes." I clamped my eyelids shut.

"Well then. I guess you've given me no other choice. I'll start taking my medication first thing tomorrow morning, then I'll call my shrink to schedule an appointment."

"I appreciate it, Brandon."

"Mm-hm. I've no other choice as I said. But if you ever try this bullshit again or leave me, so help me I swear—"

"Brandon don't. Don't say it."

"Let me
talk
, my sweetest." He sneered. "As I was saying, if you ever try this shit again I'll be forced to hurt you. Am I making things clear enough, my sweet—precious—a
ngel
?"

"God Brandon, please don't start this crazy stuff. Not now. Not while I'm so far along with the pregnancy." Tears streamed as I lost control. "Just take your pills. Take them and you'll be fine again. You'll be—"

"Fuck you," he said, rising and approaching. A couple of steps and he'd be on top of me.

I cowered in my chair, consumed by the urge to run, but I couldn't move fast enough because of the pregnancy. Christ!
Where
was Doris? I even wished that
Tyler
were here along with Robert.

At least they were big enough to fight Brandon.

I knew this shit would happen and he'd eventually lose his mind again. Damn!

"Seriously, Mia. Don't try this shit a second time. I won't be giving you a third chance. If you ever,
ever
warn me about leaving and taking my son with you—Christ." His head swayed in frustration. "The next time I'll take a razor to your throat."

"
Brandon.
" I slid off the chair, staggered backward as I held my bump and prayed to merciful god. Christ, Brandon wouldn't hurt me and the baby... would he?

He inched closer, closer.

"I'll take a straight razor and slice you from ear to ear. How would
that
make you feel?"

"Fucking stop it!" I kept backing while this crazy man/stranger/Hyde followed, smiling as if performing a sick prank.

"I'll slice
you
exactly like they sliced
me
. I'll start under your neck."

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh, oh, oh." My lips and voice quavered, tears turned to ice.

"Mia, I'll give you a new beating heart...
just like they gave me
." His eyes were glassy and unfocused.

"Yes," he continued. "You need a new heart. Maybe then you'll stop trying to leave me. Maybe
then
you'll stop using my child as a weapon in your little quest to destroy me. To destroy
us
."

I'd made it to the doorway. However Brandon was
right there
as well, sporting that horrifying grin.

"All I wanted—was for you to treat me with respect.
Respect
me, Mia. Respect me as the father of our son. How fucking
hard
can it be?
Huh
?" He seized my upper arm and yanked.

My feet rooted to the floor. I was determined
not
to fall, no matter how much stronger he was or how hard he pulled. I simply wouldn't allow it. Mind over matter. On and on he jerked me about with no consideration for our tiny one living within.

Maternal instinct switched my terror to rage.

Breaking free, I took my hand and nailed him across the cheek. A long welt blemished his features.

No words chased my violent act. Only strained, unnerving silence. Brandon glared while fingering his wounded cheek.

"That's very good, Mia. I felt some movement in my cock."

"I'm learning, Brandon. You're an excellent teacher."

"Next I'm gonna teach you to swallow my fist, since I'm fixin' to shove it down your fucking throat. I'll cram it so goddamn far in your windpipe that no amount of surgery could remove it." He cackled. "Then you
really
couldn't leave me. We'd be stuck together. Forever baby, forever." He whispered the last three words.

Fucking crazy. He's fucking crazy.

"I'm gonna kill you. This time I really mean it. I'll do it with my bare hands if I have to." Brandon reared up, preparing to strike with the underside of his hand.

"
Son
," Doris yelled. He stilled and his arm relaxed at his side. "What the hell are you doing
,
son?"

Doris stormed between us. "What in the damn hell is the
matter
with you? What in god's name were you planning to do? So help me, I love you to bits because you're my son, but it's times like this when I wish you'd never been born. You have absolutely no right to hit or threaten your girlfriend, no right. Ya hear?
Do you
?" She raged in his face.

He towered over his mother and I feared for her.

"If your father knew this he'd tan your hide like he did when you were
six
. I should call the police and have you arrested for even
thinking
about hurting the mother of your child. Mia's pregnant, you shit! What the devil has gotten into you? What makes you think you have the right to hurt a pregnant woman? To hurt
any
woman?" Tears emerged in her voice.

Brandon stared ahead, face stoic.

Sharply exhaling, Doris rushed to a mobile phone on the desk. Snatching it, she tapped in a number, eyes like stones as she observed Brandon.

He pivoted to watch her, thumbed his chin, oddly nodding as his arm crossed his chest.

"Robert," Doris said. "It's our son." Short break. "
Yes
it's about Brandon. It's—always—about Brandon. I need you home immediately or I'm calling the cops. He's gone off the deep end and I'm afraid he's fixin' to do something crazy." She clicked off the phone without awaiting a reply.

"Don't worry, hon. He'll be coming shortly." Doris regarded me, holding the mobile in her fist. She scooted onto the surface of the desk and kept an eye on her son.

We waited in tortuous silence. My extremities stiffened and my eyes burned due to hardly blinking. I feared something awful would happen if I did. And Brandon towered half-way betwixt Doris and me, arms crossed as he glowered at nothing.

Why wouldn't he say something?

A distant door slammed. Doris jammed the phone to her chest, lips moving as though mumbling a prayer. Brandon stayed statuesque.

Footsteps thumped the hallway and I allowed my muscles to unwind. My knees buckled in relief when a man appeared and walked straight to Brandon's side.

"What have you done now?" Robert, clad in business attire and not a hair out of place, stroked his chin with two fingers and examined his son. They stood eye to eye, Robert an older clone of Brandon.

Brandon shrugged.

"Well? Are you gonna talk or not? Your mother wants to call police. You'd better say something to explain yourself." Robert arched his brows. His dark, amber-streaked hair glistened as he dipped his head. "Fine. Don't speak."

Robert gestured to Doris. "Go ahead, call the damned police. I'm sick of this." He faced Brandon. "And I'm sick of dealing with
you
. I don't have time for it. I just got in Houston twelve hours ago after living two weeks in a Dallas hotel, working nine goddamn hours a day doing breast augmentations. God dammit to hell."