Defiant

by Ursula Sinclair

  He laughed loud, long and hard.

  It took me a minute but I got it. “Heil Hitler.” I shook my head at my stupidity because I felt stupid now. Here I was, chasing a dream. The dream of this handsome man, whose mere presence had intrigued me, but he was screwed up, more than most. But, the damn thing was, for whatever reason, I’d been drawn to him, and I found I still was, which seriously pissed me off—that and his laughter.

  He finally stopped laughing.

  “It’s not that funny.” But, I felt foolish.

  He stared at me without cracking a smile and said, “There’s more…all over my body.”

  It was almost flirtatious the way he said it, but while I tried to process that, I needed to know something else. “Swastika?” I asked.

  “A few.”

  He must have read something on my face when he answered. Maybe because my lip curled up into a sneer when I asked.

  “You shouldn’t be surprised. I also have a black iron cross on my arm. and an assortment of other things that have meaning to me or that I happen to like.”

  My heart pounded at all of these revelations. Who the hell was this man I had been foolishly searching for this last few weeks? I must have been out of my flipping mind. Still I fought to understand. The train had gone through several stops now, and we were nearing the transfer point, so I could get home. But, I still had questions for him.

  “Why?” I asked. I had to know.

  He arched a brow. “Why what—the tattoos? I represent my people.”

  I shook my head. “All of it. And, why are you here with me now?”

  12

  Dachs

  “You’re late.” Bruno scowled opening the door.

  “Nothing new or unusual in this universe.” I shrugged. Pacifying Bruno was not something I was concerned about at that moment.

  My thoughts still repeated the conversation I’d had with little Ms. Harper on the train—rewind and playback. Wait, what the hell was I thinking? Her race was below mine; there was no need to remember her or respect her. Yet, I made sure she made it home safely and was actually curious about the ‘Weakly,’ or was it ‘Leakly’ people that she claimed was proof against the Prof’s arguments. What the hell was that name? I needed to ask the Prof about it.

  Wait.

  Would that give him the idea that I had been thinking about a lot of things—stuff that did not necessarily fall in line with his teachings. I took a deep breath. Talking to him could go one of two ways: Piss him off because I shouldn’t be asking questions or open up a dialogue to answer my questions.

  The little card she’d given me was burning a hole in my pocket. We should have parted ways. It was my intention to walk away, but with the way she softly called my name, inviting me to her place, I should have ended our connection there and walked away. But, that wasn’t what I did. I get invited into female’s homes all the time. Telling a woman ‘no’ happens to me more often than not. That wasn’t what did it either. No, it was the way she thrust the edge of some card into my palm. Her fingers brushed my hand. Tickling my skin and sending currents straight to my cock. I didn’t, couldn’t look at it until I got in the Uber I’d called after making sure she got home. It contained her personal information. It was dangerous that I found myself interested in what she had to say.

  This colored girl could be the death of me—literally. How many times would I tell myself this?

  “Where the hell did you end up that you took so long to get here?” Bruno grumbled. “I would have met you outside. I wanted to see—”

  I’d texted Bruno back that I was going to be late and would take a car to the meeting. I answered before Bruno could finish. “My driver was an old biddy who smelled like mints and liked to chat.” I stopped inside the doorway of the apartment. “Do I need to stay out here or am I coming inside?” I angled my chin toward the room in general. The frustration roiling within me had no roots. I couldn’t explain it, and that in itself bothered me.

  “Don’t be an asshole,” Bruno grumbled. “The Prof will be here any minute. He’s running late after a work meeting.”

  I stalked past him to the little side bedroom we converted to the organization office. Most places affiliated with us are rural. More room to train—to grow, but the Professor was clear; he wanted to be in the city, the place where the race war was most likely to start—on the front lines of the gutter-based populous. If our leader had his way, we would ignite the battle. Just like in the Turner Diaries. Next to Mein Kampf, our bible, the Turner Diaries was the roadmap.

  “Why does this place smell like mothballs and day old food?” The apartment itself needed to be aired out. The front room was dank and cold. I twisted around and marched to the windows to snatch open the worn curtains. Sunlight poured through the window, cutting a bright swath through the shadows. Bruno’s clothes were strewn across the little couch, and stacked takeout containers sat on the coffee table amidst soda cans and beer bottles. Bruno was the embodiment of every white, angry, disenfranchised youth the media found time to talk about daily. We might be part of the downtrodden race, but we didn’t have to live like it. “The Prof pays the rent.” I flicked a finger at the small tower of plastic containers, and they tumbled over. Moldy old sauces and God knew what splattered across the surface.

  “Jesus man! I just cleaned that up.” Bruno shoved past me and shoved the dishes back to a stack. “Unlike you, my mama is not here to clean up after me.”

  I made a fist. It wasn’t often I fought with my brothers in anger, but after spending time with that little black girl, I had a lot of unspent energy. Fucking or fighting—it would take too long to visit Becky. I really didn’t see any other way to release this stress…I swung and connected with Bruno’s jaw.

  “Now, why you have to go and bring up my mom?” It was a poor excuse, but the asshole didn’t know that. Anything could set any one of us off. Looks like I found my trigger.

  Bruno plowed a heavy fist into my belly. Pain blossomed from the spot, petals of hurt unfurling along my ribs. I would not let this bastard get the best of me and breathed through the ache filling my chest. Bruno was a good forty pounds heavier and three inches taller than my six foot two inch frame.

  He aimed for my face. “A pretty boy’s face should get fucked up every now and then.”

  I blocked and countered, slamming my knuckles into his side, then pulling back and ramming them into his chest. Bruno clutched my shoulders as he stumbled back, pulling me down with him. We hit the wall and old framed pictures fell to the floor. Shattered glass spread across the ancient threadbare rug. Grunts escaped us with every blow we traded.

  Arms wrapped around mine, yanking me up. With me held back, Bruno took the opportunity to crush his fist into my jaw.

  Asshole.

  The Prof stepped in between us, getting into Bruno’s face. His shoulders shook and a mottled red flush colored the back of his neck above the collar of his shirt.

  “What the fuck is this shit?” Professor Stephen B. Sharpe, an educator at the University and founder of NMAWP shifted to the side. “We fight those nigger bastards, the wetbacks currently pouring into our country from South America, the fucking Jews that own the government…We do not, we do not—ever, fight each other!”

  Bruno stepped back. “He started it.”

  That was true, and I wasn’t going to deny it. “You talk too damn much.” Another truth. In the mood I was in I had no desire to hear the noise coming out of his mouth. Always something, Bruno had no aspirations and being in my friend’s presence was just enough to bother me. No matter that it all started with that unusual black girl who invaded my mind.

  Prof twisted completely around to get in my face. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “I’m feeling rambunctious?” The smart ass in me raised his ugly head. For the first time in a long time I did not want to be here. I needed some alone time and going home wouldn’t work. That would just invite my mother to stick her nose in my business too.


  The sickening thwack to my face, I expected. Professor Stephen did not suffer smart alecks lightly. The gun muzzle to my temple was something I didn’t see coming.

  “This is not the time to play with me. Now, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you are going to get your head on straight. It’s coming near the time to bring everything together, and I will not let you or anyone else stand in my way. The permits have been issued for our rally, and I planned some fireworks that will propel our organization onto a national platform.” Prof ground out the words through clenched teeth. “You need to decide are you in?” The click of the hammer being pulled back thundered through the room. “Or are you out?”

  I stared into my mentor’s eyes and knew he meant every word. Death was a shadow in the older man’s gaze. When had things become so crazy? Where did all this insanity come from or had it always been there?

  I refused to die in some shitty ass apartment with brothers I no longer cared about and was quickly losing respect for. I would do what I had to do to walk out this damn room alive. “I’m in, Prof. How can you ask me a question like that? You make the plans; we handle the execution. You know what it’s like when you’re gearing up for something big, the energy—a good fight was the way for me to calm things down.” I shrugged and ignored the pain. I would be bruised black and blue by tomorrow.

  To diffuse the situation, I needed not to care. A year ago, six months ago, hell, a week ago I probably wouldn’t have. The black girl with the alluring eyes flashed in my head. Realization was a painful kick in my gut, worse than any punch I would take from one of my brothers. No, this was an epic sin in the eyes of the brotherhood, and admitting it, would see a bullet in my brain sooner rather than later.

  I wanted to see her again.

  Prof eased the hammer back in place and lowered the weapon. A sinister smile replaced the scowl on his face. “We got family coming in from Kentucky and Gage has arrived from upstate New York. Ingredients we needed to create one hell of some fireworks will all be here by tomorrow. After all, we have to celebrate our heritage with pride and have one hell of a party.”

  His words went in one ear and came out the other. This was not good. When had that girl weaved her way into my head? I forced a smile. The people around me needed a response and with my mind wrapped around one thing it was impossible to think about the other. Something about a rally march, planning, that was nothing new.

  “Yeah!” Bruno punched the air.

  Big grins spread across the faces of my brethren. I shook my head and refocused on what was happening around me. I wouldn’t see her again, no matter what I wanted. Worrying about her and the bullshit emotions making me a pussy wasn’t something I would worry about.

  “Let’s do this!” I had no idea what I’d agreed to do. This time my smile was real.

  13

  Harper

  I entered my condo alone and shut the door. I don’t know why I even bothered to invite him in, even knowing he’d say ‘no’ yet hoping for a ‘yes.’ What the hell was wrong with me? What would I have done if he’d actually come in and Justin came over? He could be back from his trip about now.

  Shit!

  I moved farther into the room and dropped my jacket on the couch, heading into the kitchen to get myself a bottle of water.

  I was still surprised Dachs walked me all the way home, even though he didn’t say much, but his eyes never stopped scanning the street—as though he was prepared for trouble. We passed quite a few people, mostly young white hipster males some of them were with women, two were even a mixed race couple holding hands. When I glanced at Dachs his eyes tracked them, but his face was stone cold. Not that he didn’t have that whole badass look going all along, but he seemed to ramp it up. He didn’t offer any comments on the couples. Perhaps that was progress since he was a white boy walking with a black girl.

  He never did answer my question, but he did stick to my side, not quite touching, but I could feel his closeness. As usual I did most of the talking.

  “I’m going to have to find out what was covered in the econ class I missed today.”

  “Why’d you miss class?”

  “My damn car wouldn’t start. I had to have it towed, then I couldn’t get a ride so I was forced to take the subway.”

  He snorted. “Hmm. Listen, once you get your car back, stay off the T. No need for you to take the subway, and we will never have to run across each other again.”

  His major contribution to our conversation for most of the way was him telling me I needed to stay away from him. But, unlike the other times, this time it sounded more like a plea instead of a demand. Perhaps, I’d finally gotten through his thick head.

  I came to a stop in front of one of the buildings lining the street, he’d stopped as soon as I did.

  “I live here,” I said indicating the entryway. Would you like to come up?”

  He glanced at the building. I knew what he saw. There was no doorman but through the entire front windows you could see into the grand entryway. It was sleek, all chrome and white leather, like you might find in a modern hotel. There was a desk with 24-hour concierge service. Guests were signed in even after they were buzzed in.

  His face lost that cold expression, now anger infused it so his skin was a little flushed. “This is the shit Prof talks about. How did you get to live in a place like this? Getting ahead with government funded education and jobs while most white people have to scuffle for the crumbs of supposed equal opportunity.”

  It was my turn to snap back. “Oh, grow up. Stop acting like a two-year-old having a tantrum.” The problem was he was an adult and his kind of tantrums were dangerous and could do some serious damage.

  The man still lived with his mother for Christ sake. I’d pulled that much out of him when I’d asked him where he lived earlier. He’d answered me reluctantly.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said. He stared at me as though he were memorizing my face. “I’ve got to go.” He began to step away from me.

  “Wait. Here.” I took a chance and quickly took out one of my cards from the pocket of my backpack and held it out to him. This would be a turning point for us. I was done with the back and forth, and the sniping at each other, let’s see if there was anything there.

  He glanced at it without touching it. “Whatever that is I don’t want it.”

  “It’s my info, so if you’d like to run into me on purpose or to make sure you don’t. Up to you to do whatever you want.” My heart paused mid beat, my lungs quit moving as I waited to see what he’d do.

  Without another word, he snatched the card from me, turned and walked away. I didn’t dare stand there watching him in case he changed his mind. Instead, I went into my building up to my condo. Feeling very satisfied on the one hand, like perhaps we’d made progress. It didn’t escape my notice, his last words to me were not to stay away, and he took my contact information. I smiled.

  My cell phone rang. It was in my purse where I’d dropped in on the side table, and I went over to it. I checked the caller ID, releasing the breath I’d been holding when I saw Serena’s image pop up and not Justin. My thoughts hadn’t been on my boyfriend much at all lately. Frankly, I didn’t want to talk to him right now, not when my thoughts were taken up with someone else.

  “Hey, Lady, missed you today. You up for a movie tonight?” Serena asked.

  I’d blown her off a few days ago when she wanted to go shopping. One of her favorite stores was having a big sale, and she wanted to get a few outfits for her paid internship in New York this summer. I really didn’t feel like a movie, but I felt guilty about changing my plans on her before. I’d opted to take the train that day, on the off chance of running into Dachs. Just like I knew I’d take it tomorrow. Why couldn’t I let this guy go?

  “Harper!”

  “Oh huh? Sorry, what did you say?”

  “Movie? What’s up with you? For a while now you’ve kinda not been yourself. Is something going on between you and Ju
stin?”

  “Can’t tonight, I’ve got a paper to write. And no—not exactly. Okay, maybe.”

  “Harper what’s going on? Does this have anything to do with that Nazi?”

  I cringed. I couldn’t deny her accusation. Dachs was that and, yet…I saw he could be so much more. For all the bull he sprouted, he was also intelligent. I just needed him to use that intelligence when it came to those beliefs he espoused. “I don’t know. It’s me. I…I think I need to break things off with Justin.”

  “Get the fuck out of here!”

  I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, not yet, but knew it’s what I’d been thinking about for the last couple of weeks, whenever I thought of Justin. We’d only had sex a couple of times in the last month, and the thought of him touching me, made me shiver—not in pleasure. I tuned back into Serena. “Yes. I don’t feel for him what he feels for me. Yeah, I know we might seem perfect, but you’ve always pointed out we are not. I think it’s best I let him know, so we can part as friends before things get too intense between us.”

  “Good luck with that. I think it’s about time, though. But, you know he’s not going to go quietly into the night. When he asks, ‘why,’ what are you going to say? I have a thing for a racist? While I agree you and Justin are not perfect for each other, this other dude isn’t either.”

  That got my back up, true or not, he was more than he seemed. “Dachs is not…well yes, but he’s just deliberately ignorant. He doesn’t want to know any better.”

  “Girlfriend, it’s not your mission in life to educate the fool.”

  I paused, thinking about what she said. “I’m not so sure about that. I think it’s every rational human being’s responsibility to not just sit down and let this crap go unchecked. We don’t have to be violent and loud about it, but we can be vocal about it and point out the holes in their ideology.”