Falquen's Nest

By Maria Bernard

In this classic tale of opposites attract, we meet Janie Drago and Falquen Forrester.

Janie is a fresh out of art college watercolorist, hoping to dive head first into Toronto’s art circuit and make a name for herself. To do that, she moves out of her childhood home in the suburbs to find a place in the city. After a few failed attempts, Janie’s search for a place of her own turns desperate.

Falquen is a moody bass player for the local Goth band, These Bones. Besides being a brilliant musician, he is also an up and coming painter with eccentric tastes. He enjoys living alone in his art studio above an artist’s supply shop, The Crypt.

Needing a little extra cash, he very reluctantly takes out an ad, renting out the spare room in his apartment. Janie's got one last place to check out, which just happens to be Falquen's Nest. Fate brings these two polar opposite personalities together but can they find enough common ground to live with each other, maybe even fall in love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maria Bernard
• Release date: May 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9780973147483

Maria Bernard

Maria Bernard is a Canadian author, residing in the Greater Toronto Area with her music-obsessed husband, and her adopted cat, Rex. Maria eats, sleeps and dreams with romance in mind. One day the idea to share the many stories and scenarios that swirl in her imagination became a reality. Her stories are heavy on the romance with a healthy dose of steam. Maria’s characters are creative, strong-willed, artistic individuals, unafraid to show their vulnerable sides. Hand in Glove is her first published full-length novel in the Stick Shift Lips Series. She has since written and published thirteen books and is currently working on a few upcoming projects. Besides writing, Maria enjoys listening to music and playing guitar with her husband. She also loves drawing, painting, and travelling.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I’ve got one more place to check out.

Well, I sure hope this one turns out better for you than the last two.

Janie raised her eyebrows in agreement as she finished her coffee. Understatement of the year, that was, actually. Janie wasn’t completely naïve. She had anticipated a little difficulty in finding a decent apartment but she hadn’t realized that it would be this challenging.

Well, at least, this one is in the art district, Charlotte said encouragingly as she handed the newspaper clipping back to Janie. You’ll fit in just fine there.

Is it? She had no clue about what neighbourhoods were best when it came to this city. As far as she could tell, one moment you could be walking down a seemingly safe street to then turn a corner and find yourself in a completely seedy, scary stretch of road.

Yeah, well sort of, Charlotte said reflectively. Parts of it can get a tad sketchy after dark, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, you won’t be living alone either so....

Right... Janie said, chewing on her bottom lip. Just who would she end up living with, she wondered warily.

It was already late in the day, and Janie was tired and discouraged. She glanced down at her newspaper clipping and scratched a big red X on the last apartment she looked at. She shuddered just thinking about the place. Well, not so much the place, but the neurotic clean freak who would have been her roommate, had she agreed to move in there.

The older woman seemed normal enough at first, but as she showed Janie around the immaculate, colourless apartment and went on and on about cleanliness, a place for everything, everything in its place, not to mention the acrid smell of bleach, burning her throat with every breath, Janie knew it would never work out. She was an artist after all. Everyone knows artists tend to be a little unorganized.

The place before that hadn’t been any better. Way too small and way too crowded since she’d have to share it with three studious Asian girls, all in med school. Seeing all the thick textbooks and coffee cups lying around and the promise of sleepless all-nighters was enough to turn her off.

Anyway, it’s really okay even if the next place doesn’t pan out. The important thing is that you find a place and a roommate who you’ll be comfortable living with. Toronto can be a scary city when you’re all alone, Charlotte said, taking a deep breath, tucking her long dark hair behind her ears. And, Janie, there’s no hurry. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need, she stressed, her voice noticeably higher than usual.

It was nice of her to say the words, but Janie could tell that she had already overstayed her welcome in the tiny one bedroom apartment. Her best friend, Charlotte and her new husband, John, would never actually come out and say it, of course, but she wasn’t insensitive to the uncomfortable tension. Besides, it had been over a month since she permanently moved to the city, and frankly, she’d had enough of sleeping on the futon in the newlywed couple’s cramped living room.

I do know my way around Toronto, sort of. I like this city. Besides, I did just spend the last four years going to college here, didn’t I?

You’ve commuted back and forth every day from your parents’ home in Whitby. Living here is way different than visiting. There are a lot of weirdos and you have to be careful, especially after dark, Charlotte reminded her.

Of course, Charlotte was right to be concerned, especially after yesterday’s experience which Janie hadn’t even shared with her. She hadn’t completely ruled out the possibility of a male roommate but this guy was a complete freak. Not only was he way older than her by at least two decades, he also had all the makings of a serial killer written all over him. Okay maybe serial killer was a bit harsh but answering the door in nothing but boxer shorts and a greasy smile was not right.

Well, afternoon break is over. I really should get back to work, Charlotte said, checking her watch again.

Yes, of course, Janie said, standing up and discarding her empty coffee cup in the garbage bin. A job was another thing she desperately needed. First things first, though, she needed a place to live and she was determined to find it today. No matter what, she promised herself, this next place would be it. It would have to be. She’d looked everywhere else it seemed. Besides, whoever this next possible roommate was, she would just have to deal with it. She was done living at home with her parents. It was time to make her own way and take on that world!

Good luck. Call me later, bye, Charlotte said, buttoning up her coat with a desperately encouraging smile.

Bye, Janie said with a despondent sigh as she stepped onto the sidewalk, shivering in the cold October air. Well, it was official. There was no mistaking that hint. Janie had to move out asap.

Chapter 2

Stepping off the streetcar at the designated stop, Janie hesitated and glanced questioningly at the driver. Surely this couldn’t be right. Charlotte had said that the address was in the art district. Naturally, Janie was expecting art galleries, coffee houses and trendy shops. Instead, she saw only rows of questionable businesses including an adult video store, a couple of pawn shops, an old hardware store, a few empty buildings, a greasy spoon and an antique shop.

Well, this is the stop you requested, the driver said with a shrug of indifference.

Thanks... she said as he closed the door on her face and drove away. Discouraged but not beaten, she glanced at the address again. According to the number, the place should be just around here somewhere... but none of these places appeared to be residential. Then staring across the street, studying the buildings better, she realized that there were indeed apartments above the shops. Well, this could be interesting, she contemplated. She hadn’t considered living above a store as an option. Taking tentative steps towards the address on the clipping, she counted down the numbers on the storefronts as she walked until she found the one she was looking for.

It must be fate, she thought with a smile. An art store... a somewhat macabre looking one albeit, but the idea of living above an art supply store was a heck of a lot better than living above an adult video store.

Should she go into the shop first and ask about the apartment or simply ring the bell on the rickety door off to the side that led up to the second floor? Perhaps she should just ring the buzzer. She pressed it... waited... nothing. She repeated the process three times but got no response.

Stepping back, she glanced upwards and noticed there were no lights on upstairs. Not that she could see much past the black sheets hanging in the windows. Whoever lived up there sure liked their privacy... and skulls.

The black sheets that were used in place of curtains were covered in large sinister looking skulls. Yikes, whoever lived up there was most definitely not female, she guessed. Most women didn’t have curtains like those. None that she’d ever met anyway.

Then again this was the art district, she thought skeptically as she glanced around at the handful of people walking past her. Mostly street kids and panhandlers, a leering drunk, and a particular creepy guy who’d already walked by her twice. He was obviously not right in the head because he spoke to himself quite loudly and none too politely.

She shouldn’t have stopped at her favourite bookstore on her way over, she realized. She’d lost track of time in there. She checked her watch. It was only five o’clock but already getting quite dark. Even if she were to ever see the apartment, by the time she left, it would be pitch black. She adjusted her ruby coloured beret to cover her ears against the cold and shuddered at the thought of having to make her way back to Charlotte’s on her own.

Comforted only by the fact that at least a few apparently normal people had come in and out of the art store, she figured she could go in and perhaps wait for whoever lived upstairs to return and show her the apartment. She would have called ahead if there’d been a phone number listed in the ad.

Janie was well aware of the possibility that whoever had listed the apartment might not be home when she got there. That’s why she’d left this place for last, but honestly, she was getting desperate to find an apartment, a home of her own. This was her last shot and she would wait all night if she had to. The alternative, having to further intrude on her newlywed friend’s hospitality was no longer an option for her.

All too aware of the creepy self-talker’s return, Janie hesitated no longer and sought refuge within the walls of the mysterious art store. But instead of being greeted by the customary cheery sound of jingling bells as she entered through the shop door, a loud ominous creaking sound, followed by the jarring screeching cackle of a blinking skull with beady red eyes, announced her arrival. She let out a startled gasp of air and then reddened, realizing that a handful of patrons turned to look her way. To add insult to injury, the silly little animated skull on the counter, continued to cackle a few seconds longer as she attempted to regain her composure.

She then took a long look around the shop. Eccentric might be a good description of the interior of the store and whoever owned the place sure enjoyed decorating for Halloween. Everywhere she looked, where there might have been an inch of free space, there were skeletons, skull heads, and the upper walls were lined with canvases painted black with streaks of red splattered over them. On closer inspection the various streaks and splatters in each of the dark canvases, graphically depicted scratchy images of even more skulls. Some were menacing, some laughing, some almost cartoonish while others were overwhelmingly disturbing.

The tightly packed shelves of the labyrinth-like shop were divided into three aisles. Oil paints, acrylics and watercolours on the left side of the centre aisle, chalks, pencils and paint brushes on the right. Watercolour paper and sketchbooks were in the first aisle, custom made stretched canvases of all shapes and sizes were stacked against the wall along the back. The third aisle was home to a multitude of other supplies like clay, modelling tools, airbrushing materials and anything else an artist might need.

Janie had never seen anything like it. She got the distinct impression that there couldn’t possibly be anything a person couldn’t get in such a shop. Locating it, though, might be a problem since it appeared that the shelves were so overstocked that one wrong reach or one misplaced grasp might bring everything tumbling to the ground. Not to mention that the floor space was also at a premium in the deep but narrow shop.

Even though there were at the most three other people in there with her, two women in by the clay, a tall artsy looking guy rifling through the canvases, the shop already felt overcrowded. Wait... make that four people.

A very tall, lithe figure emerged from somewhere in the back, carrying a blank canvas towards the other man, and presented it to him. A stranger looking guy, Janie couldn’t recall seeing ever before.

He was obviously Goth and had to be at least six-foot-four and to call him thin would be an absolute understatement. His long slim legs, clad in black denim went on forever. Chains hung from his pockets to his belt loops. The long lean muscles of his arms were covered in intricate tattoos. He wore metal studded leather bands around his wrists.

The faded and worn black t-shirt he had on had a similar graphic on the back as the black and red canvases decorating the shop. The words, The Crypt, scrolled across his shoulders, slightly obscured by his long inky black hair. She recognized it as the name that was on the sign on the front window. He must work here, she realized, watching him interact with the other man, who was obviously his customer.

The discerning customer seemed happy enough with this particular canvas and they both then suddenly turned in her direction and walked towards the cash register at the front of the shop. Neither of them seemed to notice that she’d been staring, thank goodness. Even when they proceeded to squeeze by her in the cluttered centre aisle, neither of them made eye contact with her. It was as if she wasn’t even there, although she was all too aware of them, especially being barely five feet tall. She felt like a mouse amongst giants.

She started to move out of the way, but being already squeezed into the tiny piece of floor space, she froze still as they stepped around her. The tall dark clerk, stealthily holding the canvas up over his head somehow managed to avoid knocking anything over.

At five thirty, Janie figured she’d go out and try the buzzer again. After having stared at the vast selection of watercolour tubes for most of the last half hour, she readjusted her beret down over her ears and made her way by the front counter, avoiding eye contact with the odd looking character behind it. As she exited the shop, the cackling little skull caught her off guard, and she let out a squeak of surprise.

She buzzed once, twice, three times... nothing. In the next few moments while she contemplated her next move, the remaining customers of The Crypt, made their way out of the shop with their purchases in hand.

With no better plan, she took a deep breath and re-entered the art store. This time, she was ready for the cackling beady-eyed skull and ignored its nerve-grating laughter.

She glanced quickly around the shop. Sure enough, it was empty now but for herself and the clerk who upon hearing the alerting skull, poked his head out of the back room. He barely made eye contact with her as she smiled awkwardly. He turned back to whatever he was doing and made no issue of her return. She’d have to buy something to make up for all the time she spent in there, she thought as she made her way back to the watercolours.

So many colours... so many to choose from. She ran her fingers lightly over the multitude of tubes. She shouldn’t really. She had enough paint tubes already, but... oh, there it was, the perfect shade of violet. She’d searched everywhere for such a shade and here it was. If she could only reach it. Of course, it had to be at the very bottom of the stacked tubes on the very top shelf.

Carefully, on the tips of her toes, she managed to grasp the precariously placed tube of violet watercolour paint.

Need some help? a deep voice from the back of the store asked.

Darned if she was to play the victim of her vertically challenged stature once again. No thanks... I’ll be... But then the unthinkable happened. Just as she reached the tube, the wire display gave way, bringing the rack and its entire contents falling down over her head. Janie let out a cry of shock and could only hold her hands over her face in total embarrassment while everything landed at her feet. I’m s-so s-sorry, she stuttered, her voice incredibly high and trembly that she barely registered it as her own.

Other than letting out a withering sigh, the tall clerk said nothing as he methodically approached her, glancing around at the mess. She slowly lowered her hands from her eyes to rest them over her flushed cheeks, and waited for him to say something, anything. Surely he’d be pissed off. After all, he had offered to help but she’d been too proud to let him.

I’m s-so very s-sorry, she said with downturned eyes as he towered over her. She dared not make eye contact. She couldn’t bear it.

After a moment of awkward silence, he sighed again and quietly said, No worries... He made no issue of the strewn watercolour tubes at her feet. He simply crouched down and started to pick them up one by one, placing them back in the fallen rack.

Suddenly she didn’t know what had her shaking more. The mess she’d made or the proximity of the stranger at her feet. She dared not move. There wasn’t any room to do so had she wanted to. If she chanced it, she’d probably step on one of the many tubes of paint or worse yet, him as he collected the items with the long slender fingers of his hand.

Are you hurt? he asked, looking up at her.

Me? No, why? she asked, staring down into the darkest, steeliest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He had the most striking features too. Wide set eyes, high cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, full lips and a sculpted chin. Too bad about the many piercings, though. He was awfully pale too, and the shadows around his eyes led her to believe that he hadn’t slept well in quite some time.

The rack, it hit your head on the way down. His voice was deep and gravely but no louder than a whisper.

Did it? she asked, feeling around her head for any evidence of impact.

Great, the last thing Falquen needed was a lawsuit. He had enough problems keeping his shop open as it was. Damn, if she wasn’t so stubborn. Why hadn’t she accepted his help? Damn, if she wasn’t so pretty. It would be a hell of a lot easier to be mad at her if she wasn’t so cute in her dark blue plaid skirt and black tights.

I’m f-fine, really. It must have looked worse from your angle, she said, nervously dragging her hands down over her thick braid of blond hair, finding no bumps or scratches on her head. The mess, on the other hand, I’m s-so very s-sorry about.

Good, now the sooner she left the better. Hopefully, she’d forget all about this place and not sue him. He’d never seen her here before, and from the looks of her, it was obvious that she wasn’t from around here. Probably from the suburbs, he surmised. Shouldn’t she be off in a mall somewhere? Besides, It was already past closing time. He continued to pick up paint tubes until the area around her feet was clear.

So, which one was it? he asked as he stood up to his full six-foot-four height, dwarfing her in the process, as he placed the rack safely back on the shelf.

Which one? Oh, right, yes, of course. Violet... violet s-sunset, she stuttered nervously. I’ve searched everywhere f-for that shade of v-violet. It’ll be p-perfect for... She watched him knowingly trace his long fingers over the tubes, finding the one she requested and handing it to her. Thanks.

He turned without another word and made his way into the back room. Awkwardly frozen, she stood still a moment staring at the tiny paint tube in her hand. Then suddenly the lights dimmed around her and a door shut behind her. Like a shadow, the tall clerk passed her on the way towards the front counter and waited. When she hesitated and pretended not to notice, he made a point of switching off the light on the sign in the front window and turning over the open sign, leaving them both in the dark but for the dim light above the exit and the glowing red eyes of the menacing little skeleton head on the counter in front of him.

Reluctantly, taking the hint, Janie approached the front counter and stood opposite him. She placed the tube on the counter, and he rang it into the cash register. The total came up to eight dollars and fifty-three cents.