Defiant

by Ursula Sinclair

  Nothing.

  I peered down at her fingers. Slim digits, her nails were long and had some elaborate design on them. All the women I knew didn’t really sport fake nails, and they were usually short. They worked, and to keep a manicure was a costly habit to maintain when living paycheck to paycheck.

  “Hey Brothe—” Bruno stood in the entrance of the store. His eyebrows slowly climbed up his forehead.

  “Get your hand off me,” I growled under my breath. This wasn’t good for me or her. I brushed her hand away.

  “What’s going on here, Dachs?” A slow, wicked smile raised the corners of Bruno’s mouth.

  Son of a bitch.

  I put some distance between me and the black girl. “Just some monkey trying to get my attention. You know I am a good-looking guy and all.” A deep chuckle rumbled from my belly and through my lips. “Seems even shitty colored niggers want a taste of me.” I clutched my crotch and laughed louder.

  Bruno joined in laughing too. “Youse ain’t the only one. Huh, blackie?” Then lower, more menacing. “I bet you got a lot of monkey sisters.”

  A look of pure horror crept across her face. Brackets framed her lips and her nostrils flared. Perhaps it was anger. Regardless, if Bruno was around, others were sure to follow, and she didn’t need to be here when they did. I stepped in front of her, drawing my friend’s attention. “Ain’t it about time for the rally? Let’s go.” I shoved Bruno back.

  “We got time.” Bruno shuffled back, sidestepped my push and moved around me. “Why don’t we go somewhere quiet? The three of us.” He winked at me.

  I already knew where this was going. “Why bother with her, when we have beautiful white women attending the rally with us? I won’t bring the taint of that anywhere with me.”

  Bruno stared at the colored girl, his gaze roving up and down her body. My buddy wasn’t answering me. Bruno was my best friend and one of the most brutal men I knew. There was still an open warrant out for him in New Jersey for attempted murder, after he beat a man into a coma. An urgency was building within me, making my stomach roil, and I wasn’t sure why.

  Finally, Bruno nodded slowly.

  “Leave now, little niggeress,” I tossed the words over my shoulder. It was the only thing I could do to save her.

  What the hell am I thinking?

  She eased away so quietly, I had to glance over my shoulder to make sure she moved.

  “We ain’t got to fuck her to have fun with her,” Bruno grumbled, excitement lighting his eyes. His tongue darted out his mouth as he licked his lips.

  Fuck.

  My stomach dropped. I closed the gap between us and clutched his bicep. “It’s broad-fucking-daylight. You are wanted. It’s one thing to handle business in the dark of night. Too many witnesses around, Brother.” I tipped my head toward the camel faced clerk behind the counter. “We can catch her another time.” Did my friend hear the urgency in my tone?

  Bruno inched back. His nostrils flared, and his gaze never left the blackie who dared to follow me.

  I grabbed his chin and twisted his head to face me. “Save it for tonight for the rally.”

  “Yeah.” Bruno’s gaze focused on me, his grin growing wider. “There is always next time.” He spun around and practically sulked through the exit.

  “Maybe,” I muttered, following him out of the store. I wouldn’t, no couldn’t look back. Watching her would give rise to thoughts I shouldn’t have—questions I don’t want answered. She’d been warned. That was all I could do for her. I caught myself gazing over my shoulder, anyway, before I trotted the few steps to catch up with Bruno.

  7

  Harper

  I had no words. Shock kept me speechless and motionless as both men quickly made to exit the store. The big brute of an asshole pushed through the door first. His head was bare but the black swastika tattoo that took up the entire back of his skull told me all I needed to know about who and what he was.

  Asshole!

  Dachs. What the fuck kind of name was that? German? That’s what the asshole had called him. How dare he tell me to leave? How dare either of them. Then anger took root, replacing my initial shock and fear. I finally regained my senses and took a step forward to tell him exactly that. Dachs turned in my direction and slightly shook his head. There was a look in his eyes, like he was asking me not to say or do anything.

  What the fuck?

  I still stepped forward. Was he a skinhead too? Sounded like it. I have run into a racist or two, but in my circle, it’s usually behind the scenes—never to my face. In my world, money is green and most don’t care where they get it from. I’ve seen a few neo- Nazis but not close enough to touch. When those asswipes invaded UVA, I had a few friends who were from Charlottesville; some of them had family and friends there, black and white, and went there to protest the hate marches. No one close to me was a racist, although there were a few on campus who had questionable views. But no one—no one told me where I could or could not go. Not in my goddamn country, regardless of who is or isn’t President. Those come and go; my rights are mine.

  I took another step in the direction of the door, but the man behind the counter called out to me and got my attention.

  “You know those guys? They bad men. If they threaten you, I call the cops.”

  I smiled at the man. He had a heavy East Indian accent. “Thank you, but I’m fine. And no, I don’t know them. Do you?”

  “The one with the tattoo on his head, he come in here all the time. Him and his friends. But this the first time I see the other one. But, he just like all the rest. They hold their meeting of hate not too far from here. A few weeks ago a friend of mine was badly beaten because he was the wrong shade at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  I gasped. “That’s horrible. Did he go to the police?”

  The man nodded. “Of course. But he never saw their faces. They threw a bag over his head and beat him all the while calling him dirty names and telling him to go back where he came from. His parents were born in America, so was he. Where is he supposed to go back to—Maryland where he was born?” He chuckled, but it wasn’t one of mirth. “They gone now, but you might want to call a cab. This isn’t a very good neighborhood for a nice young woman of any color to be walking around when the sun goes down and sometimes when it’s still bright.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. But…” I glanced outside and didn’t see Dachs or his friend on the sidewalk. As much as I wanted to go after them and tell them a thing or two, I let common sense rule me. I needed to process this. The look in the second man’s eyes wasn’t one of hate; maybe hate was there, but so was lust. It made my skin crawl. Dachs never looked at me like that. I’d give him that much. I’d never encountered anything like this—wasn’t sure how to handle it either. I pulled out my phone and called an Uber.

  On impulse, I’d gotten off the train, hoping to be able to talk to the guy I’d been seeing for the last few days. The only reason I’d decided to follow him was because of that look that had passed between us on the train. It had not been my imagination. There was something, some kind of pull drawing me to him, and he wasn’t immune either. I had good business instincts, maybe not so good people ones. I just had to go talk to him in the store. Ha! Not much of a conversation, and what little there had been, was not good at all. Talk about culture shock.

  I walked out of the store and looked up and down the street, hoping for a glimpse of Dachs. Even now, why was I looking for him? He was probably a skinhead too, but his head was not shaved. What did it matter? Shaved head or not, did he hate people different from himself too? I got in the car, unable to keep re-running everything in my head. I took a deep breath. The thought of such ignorance made me sad—that you would purposely close yourself off from the vast majority of the human race. When it comes down to it, it’s our differences that make us interesting.

  I pulled out my phone and called Serena.

  “Hey, girlie, whaddup?”

  “You’ll never bel
ieve what just happened.” I told her everything, and she was pissed.

  “I’ll jump in my car right now with my baseball bat and knock some frigging sense into those Nazi sons of bitches. Who the fuck do they think they are? Let’s see if a bash to the head would help enlighten them for a change.”

  I had to chuckle over her outrage. It helped to calm me down. Even though I knew she wasn’t quite kidding. One time, Serena and I were on our way to a party and heard muffled cries coming from the edges of the parking lot. We saw a girl being literally dragged into the woods. Serena screamed and ran toward them; she had about a million keys on her key ring and held it in her fist. The guy took one look at the crazy woman descending on him, released the girl and took off. But, Serena didn’t stop. I only paused long enough to make sure the girl was alright, screamed at her to call 911 and took off after my friend—not surprised to find Serena had caught the guy; she’d tackled him from behind and was punching him on the head with her keys while she straddled his back. Before he could turn over I joined her, and we kept him pinned until the cops came. So, when she said she’d go looking for them, I had no doubt.

  “Say the word, and I’m there,” she said.

  Now normally, Serena was one of the sweetest, kindest people I knew. She never started a fight, but she’ll finish it. Just don’t get her mad by picking on someone weaker, and she was loyal to those closest to her.

  “Nah. But you know, the weirdest thing is, I think he was actually trying to defuse the situation. I had no doubt in my mind his friend would have tried to hurt me. And if he’d laid a hand on me, I’d have looked for the nearest glass bottle to defend myself. But Dachs—”

  “Wait, Dachs! His name is Dachs? Is that first or last? Sounds German. Damn, he really is one of those ‘heil Hitler’ freaks.”

  “I think so. But I…I think he was really trying to get the other one away from me. When I’d started to follow them out of the store, he shook his head at me, wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder and guided him away from the door.”

  “Still don’t make him a friend.”

  “No. No it doesn’t.”

  “Well maybe it’s best to just stay the hell away from him. I don’t want to have to kill anyone. Sounds like a good time to take a break and get out of town. Isn’t there a holiday coming up?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well let this be a lesson for you, there are other good looking men out there that are not deliberately ignorant or lacking in common sense. Well at least a few.”

  “Ya think?”

  I yawned, waiting for the train. I’d been up most of the night thinking and rethinking over what had happened. I’d stared at the pictures I’d snuck of him. Dachs. Serena was right. I needed to stay away from this guy and his issues. Violence was not really my thing. And except for that one time sophomore year, never touched my life. The kind of hate, the kind he had for others, I had no interest in whatsoever. They can stay in their little ignorant boxes and I’ll roam the world.

  Oh, I know shit happens but this was the first time anything even remotely close invaded my bubble since it was directed at me. I was still sad that this man wasn’t who I thought he was. Then again I wasn’t sure what I’d thought. But not a damn in your face racist! Now I was pissed again. Pissed at the narrow mindedness of some people. Which is why I was truly on a mission today. I wasn’t about to just let this go. There comes a time when you have to stand up or go meekly to the back of the bus. I don’t do meek or buses. I didn’t have class today. Even if I did, I would miss it. I had things to say to this Dachs—up close and personal.

  Funny, how after a while, I still can’t get used to the smell. I had no backpack, just my mid-sized, Longchamp cross-body, I grasped the strap in front of me as I got on the train. This time it wasn’t too crazy, only a few people were standing. Most of the seats were taken. I’d gotten on at the front of the train, that’s where I usually saw him, it was where I’d first seen him. But, I didn’t see him this time. I felt a weight settle in my chest at his absence. Not sure if it was because I couldn’t tell him where he could shove his stupid, ignorant-ass ideology, or if it was because I just wanted to see him again. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Maybe I just needed a vacation and to get my head on straight as Serena had suggested. There was a long holiday weekend coming up, and I’d go out of town with Serena. Dad had a rental property in Punta Cana we could use for a few days, grab some sun, get out of this cold and away from skinhead assholes.

  Instead of sitting at the first available seat or getting off the train at the next stop and turning my ass around, I found myself going into the second car. That’s where I saw him. He sat against the window, facing away from me. The seat across from him was empty. I made my way over to it. My heart thundered in my ears, drowning out the screech of the wheels on the train tracks. I didn’t care. I’ve never run from anything in my life, and I would be damned if I ran now. He wanted a fight, he got one. I sat down and crossed my arms over my chest. He glanced up and our eyes locked; his at first seemed surprised but then narrowed in suspicion.

  “Dachs. What the hell kind of name is that?” He started to open his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand, stopping him. “Oh no. You had your say yesterday. It’s my turn now. My name’s Harper Hodges, by the way, not niggeress or blackie or anything else. And, if you ever refer to me as a ‘monkey’ again, I will go ape shit up your ass. What is wrong with you people? Do you not have a brain in your head and know how to use it?” I held up my hand again, letting him know I was not done and told him so. “Still my turn. You and your friends need a serious reality check. I am a part of this world; I and others like me, others different from you, are not going anywhere. So, get over yourselves. We all crawled out of the same pond. I almost thought I wanted to get to know you. That you were someone worth knowing. That I might actually like you.” I leaned forward to make sure I got my point across. “I was wrong—not something that happens very often.”

  “I know I told you to stay the fuck away from me.” He cocked his head, quietly staring at me.

  “Don’t cuss at me, it’s rude, and I go where I please. And, this seat has my name engraved on it.”

  “Show me where you carved your name?” The deep grumble of his voice rose from his chest. “Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to kill you and leave your body slumped in the seat you claim?” A wicked smile lifted the side of his mouth. “One less nigger in the world.”

  I blinked. Then, I couldn’t help myself. I busted out laughing. Not the silly girlie kinda giggle some girls do but a full on belly laugh where my eyes were tearing up a bit. It was either laugh at his stupidity or hit him. Laughter it was. Taking a deep breath, I pulled a marker out of the front of my bag and carved my name into the seat. With a wicked smile of my own, I looked into his eyes and said, “Can you read? Or do you need me to tell you my name again. I would love to see you try that because there would certainly be one less Neanderthal infecting the planet. Oh, is that word too big for you? How about simpleton? You use that word with me again and only one of us will be walking off this train, and she’s the one wearing pointed heels.”

  8

  Dachs

  The black girl was bold, and I could have gotten up at any time, but I was curious. The urge to beat the shit out of her didn’t consume me like I was sure it might. I would never admit this to anyone else, but I have never lied to myself. I wanted to hear what she had to say. She was staring at me, expectantly, almost like she hoped I would dispute something, anything she said. There was one point I would clear up before I left.

  “Dachs is the name my mother gave me. It was my grandfather’s name and my great-great grandfather’s name. There is history and power in my name, and that is something you may never understand.” I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Don’t ever follow me again. I will not say this again.”

  She kicked a leg up making sure I got a good look at her pointed heel. “I’m
not finished.”

  I stared at her. It was cute, how she thought she was in control. A long sigh blew past my lips. When did she become cute? It could happen; monkeys are cute. Now was not the time to think too hard about that.

  “I give less than a damn.” She was trouble, no doubt. But there was something about her. Her tenacity—maybe. Anyone else, knowing what I am, would have run away. Instead, this…girl came looking for me. There might just be something wrong with the darkie. Cuteness did not excuse blackness, after all. Why the fuck was I still sitting across from her?

  “I don’t care what you think.” She held my gaze.

  I was reminded of those little dogs that couldn’t bite worth shit, and yet, they kept nipping at your heels. Her stubbornness was epic. I eased back in my seat. She felt the need to express herself. I would listen for now. A grudging respect because no one listened to my arguments. Often trying to force their opinion on me, much like she was doing right now. Trying to make someone else see my point of view was tiresome. It was also why so many brothers resorted to violence…the frustration of not being heard. Sure, there were the Brunos that were part of the group. Men and women, extremist, who were zealous in their views, but not all of us were violent criminals that social media often made us out to be. A lot of my brethren just wanted a clear delineation between the races. A stay in your own lane type deal, and most of us kept to our own, choosing to be heard through networking and literature.

  “Aren’t you scared, little girl?”

  I am no Bruno. I craved no urge to kill anyone, in spite of what I told her. I just wanted a clear separation of the races. Like a line in the sand, if everyone played in their own sandbox, violence wasn’t necessary.

  “What is there to be afraid of?” Harper pressed her lips together and tilted her chin up.