Pieces of a Life

The wooden table was long and glossy, in an also long and glossy room that seemed like it had been decorated by a presumptuous and stuffy person who wanted to express that not only were they rich, but offensively so. Leila sat stiffly in a large chair, hands folded on top of the shining wood of the table. Her father’s lawyer was comfortably seated at the head of the table, all the way down there so far north he had to have crossed the state line into Pennsylvania from where he sat. There were folders and papers splayed out in front of him, and the other seats surrounding the long table were occupied by various frowning members of the Willows family, and a few friends who kept their composure. Leila clenched her jaw and swallowed, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall. It was just a few minutes now.

Alex watched her carefully. It was obvious that she was nervous, the way she was clenching her teeth and gripping her hands together, not moving her face but eyes darting all over the room. He breathed out easily and looked at her again, her posture painfully straight and rosy lips set in a straight line. She had on that same dress she wore to the wake, the bright flowery one with the back cut out that looked so good and drew all the attention to her. One of her older aunts was sitting near the head of the table with a whole fox draped around her neck—an entire goddamn fox that looked like it was still alive—and diamond chandeliers hanging from her ears. Alex puffed out another breath. God, this family really was ridiculous.

The second hand passed twelve again and it was officially five o’clock. Leila’s head snapped to her left to look with her glassy doe eyes at Carlton Reid, her father’s lawyer. He looked casually at the clock, shifted in his seat, and cleared his throat. Leila squeezed her hands together even tighter, feeling the nervous energy shaking through her body. Alex pinched the tender skin on the inside of her arm and she jumped, but didn’t look away from Mr. Reid in his suit, shuffling his papers. She unfolded her hands and grasped Alex’s wrist, digging her fingernails into his skin. Alex flinched, but let her do it. Finally, finally, Carlton Reid settled his papers, leaned forward, and began to speak.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming, although I know it must be difficult,” Leila pinched her lips together. The other faces around the table were blank. “I’m not going to say much because I do have a job to do here, but George was a good friend of mine. He knew when he started getting sick and staying sick that it was about to be his time, and had me help him draw up this will. He was, truly, a great man. I’m sorry to see him go.” Carlton cleared his throat again and looked sentimentally at the long table outlined with faces. Leila dropped her eyes and eased her grip on Alex, and when he placed his hand over hers she quickly held on to his fingers, wrapping them between hers and squeezing because he was the only thing that could possibly bring her comfort. But Carlton began to read from one of his papers, and her heart pounded loudly again.

“To Charles, my eldest brother,” Uncle Charles had salt-and-pepper hair and a suave James Bond face that stayed as cool as ever while Mr. Reid read the will. His wife, Leila’s Aunt Clare, had big gaudy rings on almost every finger and a plastic face that would never age. Clare’s eyes narrowed and she looked between Charles and the lawyer. “I leave my country estates in Val d’Orcia, Italy, and my lakeside cabin in the Adirondacks,” Carlton Reid brought the paper close to his eyes to read, eyebrows raising as he scanned the paper. “Together a sum of 18 million, and finally another 7 million.” Mr. Reid shook his head in dry amusement and sipped a glass of water.

Clare stood up, arms crossed. “That’s it?” She said, glossy collagen lips pursed. Mr. Reid looked up at her with question on his face. Charles sighed. “Two houses and seven million dollars is what we get? That’s it?” She spat, scowling as best she could through her plastic surgery brochure of a face. Mr. Reid looked down at the paper, then back to an expectant Clare.

“Well, yes ma’am. That’s it.” He said shrugging and looking down again to continue as Clare gave a screech and stormed from the room. Charles stood up too, nodded at the lawyer, and left.

Alex gaped. This could not be real. She stormed out of the room because she got 25 million worth of assets? He couldn’t even wrap his head around having that kind of money to just give away. Two houses—a Tuscan countryside mansion, no doubt, and a “cabin” that was surely not as modest as its name suggested—and an additional seven million dollars. And she stormed from the room. Jesus, this would get interesting.

“To my older brother Harry, I leave my racehorse and New Hampshire estate, and an additional five million.” Alex looked around in bewilderment, trying not to let his face show how this was all so foreign to him, and stared at Leila. The ridiculous sums of money being tossed around didn’t faze her in the least. He knew they were rich, but hearing the numbers was incomprehensible. But there was Leila’s Uncle Harry having a hushed discussion with his wife, frowns and hand gestures, and they, too, stood up to leave in a grumpy huff.

“To my younger brother James, I leave the remainder of my business, worth an estimated—” Carlton stared at the paper and shook his head again. “Worth an estimated 450 million, because I know by now Harry and Charles have left in offense,” James chuckled. “And I have such faith in you, little brother.” Leila frowned like she was in pain, a wrinkle in her smooth forehead and her rosy lips turning down tensely. Her Uncle James nodded to the lawyer, though, and didn’t leave. He sat in his seat and held his wife’s hand on the table. She didn’t make a scene either, Aunt Michelle, sitting calmly and almost pleased beside her husband.

“Leila,” Alex hissed, leaning in and looking up at her focused face. She cocked her head to let him know she was listening. “Your dad—your dad was almost a billionaire?” He whispered in an astonished voice. Was that amount of money even real?

“Almost,” She hummed quietly, shrugging. Mr. Reid stroked his chin before beginning to read.

“To Katharine, my youngest sister, I leave my mountain estate in Switzerland and 8 million dollars,” He sipped his water again and laid the paper on the table. Katharine looked around as if she was confused, then stood up in disgust to leave like two oldest brothers had. Leila sighed loudly. It was almost over, it had to be.

Mr. Reid continued on through the will, listing off huge chunks of money, sprawling estates, and valuable assets to George’s friends and associates. Uncle James and Aunt Michelle were the only remaining family members in the room when the lawyer was getting to the end. “To Alex Gaskarth,” Alex looked up, startled. “I leave that Range Rover you should’ve had a long time ago or whatever other car you want, and one million dollars because I know you’ll be surprised and won’t really know what to do with yourself,” Alex couldn’t help but laugh. George knew what he was doing. “And I ask you, personally, to watch out for Leila because she certainly doesn’t know what to do with herself, and you’re the only one who seems to be able to deal with her.” Alex really laughed now, looking at Leila with a wide grin like they were back in high school and she’d been embarrassed by the teacher. Her face was red and she stared at her lap with wide eyes and pursed lips, an embarrassed face he hadn’t seen in years but still enjoyed just the same.

“And finally, to my darling little princess, my beloved daughter, Leila,” Leila’s breath caught and she looked up despairingly. She hadn’t been ready for that. She knew it was coming, of course, but she wasn’t ready. When Mr. Reid spoke he spoke too fast for her ears to understand, just a jumble of words in his calm voice that floated through her head and left her empty again.
“I leave the estate in Baltimore, my homes in Paris and Milan, and beach home in Cannes. I leave the remainder of my assets to Leila—together, a sum of 430 million—and I hope I can leave the comfort of knowing that I am with your mother, sweetheart, and you don’t need to be so sad all the time,” Leila’s miserable frown etched itself further into her face and her mouth quivered, hushed little crying puppy breaths shaking from between her lips as her eyes began to threaten tears. Alex gripped her hand, trying to silently console her but also knowing this was a hopeless task. Carlton cleared his throat yet again and read carefully; it seemed like everyone had to speak to Leila carefully. “I’m so proud of you, princess, more than you could ever know, and I know you’ll continue to make me proud. You’ve always been a strong person and I trust you to make the right choices, even though you’ve been so alone and will be now even more so. I love you, Leila Abigail, and I want you to always remember that. Keep your chin up, sunshine.”

The silence that came after Mr. Reid finished the last sentence was a crushing one. It was uncomfortable, felt by every person in the room, except perhaps Leila, who felt like she was in a glass box alone in this room, tears streaming down her face and wiping at them desperately with one shaking hand. The lawyer looked down and busied himself with gathering all the papers, holding a hushed conversation with a friend of George’s that sat at the table. The remaining inhabitants of the room gave Leila respectful privacy, since the weeds had been picked out, it seemed, after the estate had been divided. And Leila was sitting there thinking, that was it. The estate was divided. That was it. There was nothing else left to do. What was she supposed to do? She clamped her hand over her mouth to try and force herself to quiet down.

Of all the days in Leila’s life, Alex could tell this one was somewhere high on a list of the worst. He turned to face her and leaned down, holding her hand in both of his, not entirely sure what else he could do other than let her cry. He lightly stroked the skin of her hand with his fingers, watching her as she shook and turned her watery crystalline eyes to meet his. Seeing Leila cry was a terrible, painful thing to witness. He always felt like he’d just hit a bunny with his car when he saw her cry, and she had been doing a lot of crying lately.

Leila finally squeezed her eyes shut, the last few tears trailing down her cheeks, and inhaled a deep, shaking breath. It was over, it was really over, and that was that. The sun would set tonight and rise tomorrow and she would still be Leila Abigail Willows, daughter of George Willows, confused and sad and tired and alone. The only thing that would change is that she wouldn’t have this hanging over her head anymore. She squeezed Alex’s hand and kissed his cheek, and stood up from her chair to say goodbyes to the people still in the room. Her Uncle James was the last to say goodbye to her, and he stood up from his seat when she walked up to him.

“You’re the only family who stayed,” Leila murmured, raising her eyes to her tall uncle’s face. “Thank you.”

Her uncle smiled crookedly and nodded, gripping her hand in a firm shake. “I wanted to shake your hand, Leila; because you’ve been stronger than anyone I know who would’ve been put in your situation. And I know some strong people.” She looked down again, but he pulled her into an unexpected hug that filled her with relief that maybe her entire family wasn’t awful. At least there was someone still human.

It was Alex and Leila then, left alone in the long empty room. She looked up at him, standing a few feet away, and shrugged her muscular shoulders heavily like she carried the world upon them. Really, for a while, she had. Alex waited for her to recharge while she stood there, such a fragile little doll in her pretty little dress. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her, because that wasn’t what she needed, but he couldn’t help it. She walked towards the door with a tired smile and said, “I told you he’d leave you a car.”



The house in Baltimore was hers now. That was her house. It was taunting, really, because she’d spent so much time in that house and then abandoned it when she was approaching the prime of her life. Surely the irony was not lost on her father though, and he left her that house will full intent. Leila sat in the passenger seat of her car, Alex sitting apprehensively in the driver’s seat, and she stared out her window up at the castle of a house. Would she stay in this house? Would she take pictures in her wedding dress on the stairs, wash sticky little handprints off the walls, share her life with someone between the walls of this house that only seemed to find sadness within them? The thought was very overwhelming. She looked at Alex, who was waiting in his seat. Thoughtlessly, she crawled over and curled up in his lap.

“It’s been a rough day for you, hasn’t it?” He said quietly, the low vibration of his voice in his chest a gentle lull to her weary head. She simply murmured an agreeing noise and tucked her head under his chin, pressing the skin of her cheek against the skin of his collar bone and taking his hands in hers.

She was a confusing girl. She could go from a thousand miles a minute, sexual and careless, to being a skittish child afraid to peek out from behind her protector’s legs. It was hard to keep up with. Leila squeezed his hand and looked up at him pensively, thinking for a minute. And, yet again, she put her lips deliberately on his and kissed him. This time, though, after the initial thrill of the kiss and the urge to grab her and never stop, Alex pushed her away.

“Stop kissing me because you’re upset,” He said firmly, staring unwaveringly while she looked dejected like a scolded puppy. She thought about speaking but closed her mouth and looked at him again, wriggling back to her seat.

“We should go inside.” She whispered, opening the door without waiting for a response. Leila walked inside to her house now, staring around the foyer with new eyes. Alex stepped in behind her almost apologetically, closing the door softly.

Leila went up to her room with heavy steps, thinking that she didn’t know what to do with the rest of the house now that it was hers. What about her parents’ bedroom, or her father’s office? She couldn’t touch those. She wanted the house to stay the same, like a time capsule to preserve the years she had taken for granted. That wouldn’t change anything, of course, but Leila was afraid to do anything else. She perched delicately on the edge of her bed and slipped her feet out of her shoes, staring deliberately at her floor with wide eyes as her mind twirled in circles. Alex hovered in the doorway.

After a few minutes of silence Leila slowly looked up at him. “You told me to stop kissing you because I was upset,” She said, her voice a high and anxious ring. Alex raised his eyebrows and took a step forward expectantly. Leila’s eyebrows arched a barely detectable amount and her voice was smooth now, confident and velvety. “But what if I just want to kiss you?”

He was quiet and scratched the back of his neck with his hand, looking at her with a puzzled face, unsure of what to make of her tempestuous emotions and uncharacteristic frankness. But she looked back at him so easily, with clear intent in her unendingly blue eyes and tired honesty shadowing her expression. If she wanted to make excuses before she could say that the first time she was drunk, and then today she was emotional and upset—earlier that afternoon and in the car as well. But what would be her excuse now? It was evident in her face that she wasn’t looking for excuses. For one of the few times in her life, Leila was being honest with herself and going after what she wanted. It was just shocking, a little, that what she wanted happened to be him. Alex met her gaze and shrugged, and all he could think of to say was: “Then do it, I guess.”

Leila hadn’t really needed his permission, because she was sure she’d do it again regardless of what he had to lecture her about, but she wanted him to understand, and she was sure he did now, when she stood on her tiptoes and pulled his face to hers. This was important, because she knew he would be thinking of when she’d kissed him before and telling himself that she didn’t mean it. Which wasn’t true: maybe she was drunk, maybe she was upset and lonely, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it any less. Maybe underneath it all that was what she’d always wanted. He had always been there—he was a constant, reliable person in the ever-changing, never sleeping city that was her life. Alex was the point on the highway she always focused on when driving, the rocky shores of California that stayed the same through the rough surf days and the West Coast sunsets. And she loved him for it; she was sure she loved him for it. She loved him for his patience, his talent, the tattoos on his skin and the lingering smile on his face, the inextinguishable warmth of his heart. She loved him for the same reasons millions of his fans did, and then more. And she wanted him to know it. She didn’t want to kiss him because she was desperate for comfort, scared and sad and lonely, standing at the edge of forever and terrified to take a step. Because even though all of that was true, it was also true that Leila loved him. She needed him in her life. She couldn’t explain it, because it took a long time to explain it to herself, but she was sure of it. And it was about damn time she did something about it.

When he put his hands on her body he would sometimes brush the exposed bit of her back through the cutout of her dress and little thrilled goosebumps would rise on her skin, the rough tips of his fingers gently scratching the smooth surface of her back in the loveliest way. She put her hands underneath his shirt, running her fingers along the ridges of his ribcage, and pulled his hips against hers. There was a certain self-gratifying satisfaction to Leila in knowing that she was the reason that his breath was heavy and ragged, and she smirked as she kissed him, enjoying every noisy inhale and exhale escaping from his mouth. She connected their lips for a longer time, one hand grasping at his back and the other hand gripping his belt. He grabbed her waist roughly and held her face determinedly and Leila, her lips as her weapon, put one hand over the hand at her waist and guided it to the zipper of her dress. It didn’t take much other convincing, and as soon as his fingers found the zipper he pulled it quickly. Her dress fell to her feet and she gingerly stepped out of it, now every touch of his hands sending a rush through her body more than before. Leila was easily a passionate person, which was clear in her performance as a dancer being equally emotional expression as it was technical skill, and as such she was a big fan of skin-to-skin contact. It was a passionate thing, and Leila was a sucker for it—nothing else there but skin on skin, pure, unhindered, passionate, and wild. It was exciting. She pulled Alex’s shirt over his head and pressed her torso against his, fingers smoothly finding the buckle of his belt and undoing it this time without a moment’s hesitation. She heard him inhale sharply, but she continued and swiftly undid the button and zipper of his pants, only stopping to give him a dark smirk before she kissed him again.

He kissed her forcefully and pushed against her, and when she fell back onto her bed she knew that was what he had wanted. She lay back easily and wrapped her fingers in his hair, breath rough and heart hammering quick beats inside her chest. “Jesus, Leila,” Alex murmured into her neck, kissing that skin and moving down to kiss across her collarbone. “What are you getting me into?”

In response she leaned back and smiled slyly, biting her lip in a way she knew was maddening to him, and drifted her fingers to the top of his boxers, leaning her chin up but not kissing him. He tried to kiss her and she pulled back, a smirk tugging the corner of her barely parted lips. A frustrated groan hummed from his throat and he roughly unhooked her bra, tossing it aside and evenly matching her stare with a dark glint in his eyes. When he tried to kiss her another time she grinned widely and moved back again, slowly easing the fabric of his underwear over his hips and down his body. He breathed loudly, jaw set firmly and never looking away from her face, and grasped one hand around the fragile material of her underwear.

“You’re lucky I don’t just rip these off,” He grumbled. She laughed and smiled challengingly at him. “Although I might as well, because it’s not like you can’t afford a thousand more.”

Leila laughed again, feigning offense when she looked at him. He cut off her reply though with a hard kiss and, roughly and quickly, pulled her final bit of clothing off. But when he hesitated she kissed him again, hard and wanting, and wrapped her legs loosely around his waist as a wordless instruction. Still he hesitated though, and Leila was getting impatient and a little anxious. She knew he wasn’t doing it to tease her. He was worrying, thinking about it and wondering if it was a good idea. She ran her hand along his jaw, the rough stubble of his face brushing against her palm, and she arched her back to press her body into his. She wasn’t going to say anything unless she had to, so she kissed him and pulled slowly back, lips parted and looking evenly into his eyes. Leila leaned her head back on the many pillows of her bed and deliberately bit down on her lip again, slowly drawing her eyes up his body and meeting his stare. The reacting change in his face was all the confirmation she needed. She traced her fingers down his chest, unable to fight off the tugging smirk from under the bite of her white teeth, and she stared at him and breathed one word in a raspy voice: “Alex,” she sang, drawing out his name with her lip-biting smile and a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes.

That, it seemed, was all he needed to hear, and he kissed her then like he had a disease to which she was the cure.