Read Layers: Book One for Free Online Page B

wall.
    Jules stops and picks up a damaged painting. “Oh look what they did to the painting Marco gave you for Christmas last year. It’s been slashed.”
    Jules and I look at what remains of an abstract painting of a man with three heads and five penises.
    I take it from her and rotate it. “I really hated it. I told Marco I loved it, and I got it, but I lied my ass off. He so knew.”

    Jules gives it further study. “I really liked it and I think I got it.” She brushes a hand over the only remaining intact abstract penis. “Yeah, I think I get it.” She purrs.
    I roll my eyes and we walk on.
    “So you think the embezzlement set up is connected to this mess?”
    “Yeah. It has to be.”
    “But doesn’t trashing your loft make you look less guilty—more the victim?”
    “Yeah. I don’t get that part either.”
    We walk over slashed couch cushions, broken glass tables and spray-painted area rugs. When we enter the master bedroom we stop and look at a wall.
    “Lovely graffiti.” Jules chuckles.
    “DIE CONT!” I say out loud.
    “What do you think, spray can mishap or public school educated?” Jules says sarcastically.
    “It’s a toss-up.”
    We continue to take in the damage. I wonder if a good cry will do me any good. I decide not then look up again at the painted slur on the wall.
    “I hate the word cunt. It’s demeaning and crude.”
    Jules rolls her eyes at me. “Are you not a founding member of the Potty Mouth Club?”
    “Most likely the vice president, but I never say cunt.”

    “Cunt is okay with me, but I prefer pussy.”
    I think for a minute. “Pussy is okay I guess. Why not vagina? That’s what it is.”
    “Really?” Jules gives me a what the fuck look.
    She moans dramatically. “Oh God yes—yes, eat my vagina. Oh baby I’m going to fuck that tight vagina!” She raises a perfectly shaped brow. “I’m all kinds of turned on, are you?”

    “All right. I get it. It’s a turn off.”
    I walk into the adjoining master bath. It’s a colossal mess. After a minute it’s just too much, so I exit and shut the door. As the door shuts it proceeds to fall off its hinges and into the shower. If your home has ever been destroyed or violated, I feel for you. I get it. It sucks big time.
    My eyes begin to cloud over. I wipe them with the back of my hand then join Jules as she walks into the closet.
    She flips on the light.
    I wrinkle my nose. “Do you smell that?”
    “Yeah, it smells like urine.” She plugs her nose.
    

    I look down and see a large yellow stain on the carpet. “Some fucktard pissed in my closet.” Now this is low even for home trashers. God I hope no one shit in my pantry.
    I step over the stain and rummage through a pile of spray-painted clothes. There isn’t a stitch of clothing salvageable. Jules walks to the shelves that once held my shoes.
    She shakes her head and cries out. “Oh my God, look at your Louis Vuitton’s! They’ve been de-heeled!” She kneels and picks up a nine hundred dollar pair of heelless Louis. She bows her head—I don’t quite catch it—but I think she recited the Lord’s Prayer.
    “Are you going to be okay, Jules?”
    She takes a cleansing breath. “Who would dare do this? It’s a travesty! Works of art…every one of them—now look at them.”
    I look down at all my ruined Nike runners and Converse high-tops. They’ve all been colorfully spray-painted. I close my eyes and recite my own prayer.
    “Alexia!” We hear Jaxson shout.
    “We’re in here!” I shout back.
    A couple of minutes later I watch Jaxson stumble his way into my once beautiful bedroom. Just before he reaches me he catches his shoe on some torn bedding and almost face-plants. Even in my distraught state I want to laugh. I rarely see him do anything clumsy. I find it oddly sexy. I know, I’m fucked up.
    “Holy shit!” He spouts as he rights himself. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is crazy trashed.”
    I answer with a shoulder shrug.
    He looks