by N. Godwin
“Yeah, I forgot.” I shrug and take another drink.
“Good God, woman!” Rawly explodes, half in laughter half in disbelief. “That’s like me forgetting you’re beautiful.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Rawly shakes his head and laughs over my confusion and then covers his eyes with his huge hand. A moment later he looks at me through his spread fingers. “Helen, you need to get a firmer grasp on the twisted aspects of this mating ritual,” he tells me as he folds his hands together in front of him and looks almost ready for prayer.
“See, the man, usually perceived as the aggressor, this would be me, goes hunting for his ultimate fantasy, seeking out the sublime woman who will fulfill his deepest darkest desires, in every position imaginable, while making all his friends and associates jealous as hell. It is a deep-seeded biological urge driven by testosterone and vanity, an impulse, which I assure you, he seldom has control over.
“Are you still with me? Good, now pay careful attention,” he says flicking a finger of command lightly in my direction. “The female of the species, the temptress driven by nature to procreate, this would be you, goes on the prowl, too. Her very nature fuels her nesting instincts to find a mate capable of providing her and her offspring with everything she perceives their needs to be. Now, and this is where you need to pay closer attention, because, when handled correctly, our little temptress is pre-wired to enjoy the pleasures within this ritual, and there are many forms of pleasure to be had in this mating ritual, Helen.”
“I see, so I’m beautiful and you’re rich, so we’re… what? A match made in heaven?”
“I’m afraid that’s how it works.”
“Uh huh, and if we gave in to our base nature and followed this silly ritual, what exactly would it make us, Commander?”
“Human,” he says, his black eyes dancing with innuendo.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“No, I swear. Why would you think that?”
“Because I don’t care about your money.”
“I find that charming, naïve perhaps, but definitely a fascination.”
“Look, as long as my Halflings have everything they need and I can afford the occasional luxury of buying clothes—okay! So I’m into clothes and I’ll burn in hell later over that vanity—I just don’t see going gaga over green paper most of us will never have. I’ve never seen anyone of means any happier than someone without--”
“You really are naïve! Maybe I should laugh?”
“And you’re corrupt!”
“To the bone,” he agrees leaning his face in his hands and smiling. “But I’m loved, and I’m happy, and I’m nice.”
“Are you sure? Maybe you’ve just been practicing all these silly rituals long enough to convince yourself.”
“Ouch!”
Harris steps into our line of fire lowering a basket of aromatic muffins in our faces. “Hot carrot muffins?”
“No!” we both snap.
“Pistols, numb-chucks?” Harris laughs backing away quickly.
“This is going to be a fascinating arrangement, isn’t it?” Rawly asks rapping his fingers against the Formica table as he glances off into space.
“Fascinating? I’d choose ridiculous, futile, explosive--”
“You’re not even trying to live up to your end of the bargain, Helen.”
“I’m exhausted from the effort!”
“You’re hostile!”
“This is not hostile!”
“Okay,” he laughs holding up his hands in defeat. “Let’s try this instead. Here.”
He pulls two small envelopes from his pocket and pushes them across the table to me. I open the first one and find a handwritten schedule for the month scribbled in a wide masculine scrawl. I look at Rawly and arch my eyebrow.
“This is our training schedule. As you can see, tomorrow morning is bike riding. Please tell me you know how? Okay, okay; just checking.”
“Except, I don’t have a bike.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise—Never mind, I’ll get you one. Let’s see?” he muses cocking his head and assessing me, “five foot seven, a hundred and twenty pounds. I’ll need your measurements, too.”
“Why would you get me a bike?”
“Because you don’t have one.” He rolls his hands at me, coaching. “Is there a problem?” He looks at me and sighs deeply. “Okay, find your own damn bike, preferably one with air in its tires. Now, as you can see we have three mornings of running, two evenings swimming, two morning bike riding and--”
“When do we get to do the fun stuff?” I scan the schedule.
“You tell me.” He holds up his hands and laughs at my scowl. “You’re at least two weeks away from even attempting to learn any moves. After a little conditioning, you can see that evenings of days four, five, and six of the week are reserved for hand to hand, the manual stuff. We get to touch each other. I’ll wear gloves.”
I look up from my list and catch his contagious smile. Then I open the second envelope and briefly scan the letter and realize it’s a Visa Platinum Card.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“A Visa.”
“What’s it for?”
“For your birthday. I couldn’t decide what you’d want most so I decided to give you something you need instead.”
“Need?”
“Yes, need. You’ve already made me confess I know about the café’s finances. I know you don’t have a credit card and for the life of me I can’t imagine--”
“Why is my name on this card?”
“Because it’s yours.” He’s rolling his hands at me again as if I’m the idiot.
“I see…And who would be paying off the balance each month?”
He smiles at me and winks. “That’s the beauty of it, I will, plus you’ve also got great credit now whereas before you were nonexistent in the system. Also, all the purchases you make on it toward the café and Halflings are now tax deductible. Use it for yourself, too. You said you love clothes, go splurge, have some fun.”
“Ah?” I say and nod my head, “You mean, sort of like a mistress in training. I get paid even when I’m not sleeping with you. Lovely!”
“No. That’s not what I meant! It’s just when you hit hard times down there, or need a bike, or--”
“This, Commander,” I say and slam the card down on the table between us, “this is hostile!”
I stand angrily to leave but Rawly reaches out quickly and captures my hand on the table, covering it with his own and holding me firmly in place as he meets my eyes. “Look,” he says, “I didn’t mean to offend you. Take the damn credit card! I’m not trying to buy you or corrupt you. I give money to lots of charities. Why won’t you let me help yours?”
“ Did it ever occur to you, Commander that I might have wanted to stay virtually nonexistent in the system? That I have in fact worked hard to stay under the radar!” I am shaking and want to scream and I can feel the pressure building inside me.
“Maybe I think I do an okay job of providing! I know I can’t understand why my daily receipts won’t balance no matter what, and, okay, so I don’t get the big mystery about lust and… yuck! But at least I know—I know… God, the arrogance of you! Of all of you!
“You’ve no idea how much I hate you men assuming I was placed here to be a pawn in your silly games! I am not some sideshow freak to be bartered or sold. And I will never be owned again! Never! Waiting for some stupid handout for lunch money or beg to read a book that doesn’t please you! And I will never again smile and say please and thank you and how close to God you are because you feed me. Not by some egotistical zealot with a Platinum Card! Do you understand?!”
Rawly sits speechless and looks slowly at the other diners around us. Finally he looks back up at me. He reaches out lightning fast and captures my hand on the table and squeezes it almost to the point of pain. “I understand more than you could possibly imagine,” he whispers.
“Is that supposed to comf
ort me?” I shout and stomp my foot then begin to laugh. “Harold, you are the creepiest living thing I have ever met.”
I yank my hand free because his touch is blistering. I turn away from him and his stupid sympathetic eyes and slam out of the restaurant.
“Talk Tony out of it, Jimmy-Sue!” John and Hobie beg me again.
“Yeah, he can’t just disappear on the streets to hide!” Andrea insists. “How will he survive?”
“Tony, dude, you don’t have to leave man,” Robert says again as he cracks his knuckles mercilessly “they ain’t—aren’t getting out of prison till they’re old men!”
Tony sighs and kicks his duffle bag. “Jimmy-Sue, tell them I have to go,” Tony pleads.
“I know,” I say softly, nodding to the Halflings and dudes as they gather around Tony and argue the virtues of him staying put.
“So why you gotta leave?” Kelly asks again. “You like us! You’re happy here!”
“Because we’re a family and a family always takes care of its own,” Tony tells Kelly as she struggles to understand. “There will always be someone sniffing around looking for me. I can’t stay here any more and put you in danger. It’s time for me to get a new identity and move on.”
“No!” Robert gasps trying to hold back sobs. ”I’m going too! We’re a team! We always stick together! Remember?”
I meet Tony’s eyes for only a moment and watch as he closes his and is quiet while Robert bends to put his hastily packed gear over his shoulder.
“Man!” Tony says opening his eyes. “I’m getting bored here. Bored! And I want to see some new sights.”
“I’m still going!”
Tony looks away quickly and hisses back at his friend. ”I don’t want you to come, you loser! You’re a baby and you’d only slow me down!”
Tony stares up at the sky as Robert explodes into tears and runs through our little circle almost knocking Ken and Cecile down. It is obvious to all of us, except Robert, that Tony has just sacrificed a piece of his heart for a common good. We’re all speechless with a myriad of emotions that catch in our throats.
We watch as Tony tells the back of Robert’s head goodbye. None of us say anything because there is something in Tony’s eyes stronger than our pain. I wipe away a proud tear.
“Where will you go?” Mandy asks crying, too.
“Alaska, maybe, or Dubai, maybe the Navy, if they’ll take me. Just somewhere different. I’ll write,” he lies.
We play along with his words to make his goodbye feel less final. Tony slowly picks up his duffle bag and walks toward the end of the parking lot, taking time to hug us goodbye, one by one. He and Lavelle even shake hands and nod. We follow Tony down the drive as he hugs us and keeps moving. I can tell Tony is holding back tears, too.
“Dude, you ever make it to New Jersey you’ve always got a place to crash,” Ken says with a handshake and then a firm hug.
Finally it’s my turn. He squeezes me tightly and I squeeze him back, then again. “Take care of Robert,” he whispers. “Make him call his little mamasita, okay?”
“I will,” I promise inhaling him for a final moment.
We watch as Tony turns away quickly. We watch as he walks out of our driveway. We are silent as he blends into the foot traffic of The Strip and we watch until Tony disappears into the ocean of the crowd.
“Come on; at least tell me where you’re taking me!” I insist over the music.
Rawly reaches forward and turns down the radio, keeping his eyes glued on the highway in front of him. “Does it really matter?”
“Hey, work with me. I’m trying here.” I say sliding across the long bench seat and flipping the volume back up.
“Yeah, don’t hurt yourself!” he scoffs as he reaches and turns the music back down.
“I love this song!” I argue and turn it up again.
“So do I!” he says punching off the radio.
“Look, if you don’t want to train me anymore why not just say so and stop this ridiculous silent treatment? I’ve been good for two weeks now; I’ve been through sore muscles and aching feet and blisters. So if training me pains you just tell me before I lose a body part here.”
I steal a glance over at him. He just breathes in deeply and watches the road. We wind over the bay bridge and head into town away from the beach. I give up trying to get him to talk and shrug as I tilt the rearview mirror so I can see my face. I twist my hair back and tie it in place with a ribbon, thinking about how intriguing yoga clothes are; what wonderful colors and fabrics. I scoot over a little and turn the rearview mirror completely over toward me as I pull a tendril down, then another, then reconsider and take my hair down, shake it out, and start all over.
Rawly clears his throat and slides a CD in the stereo. “Do you like this band?” he finally asks. His vibes could suffocate an oyster and it’s starting to take its toll on me. “Good solid metal. Ever heard it?”
I shake my head.
“It’s your clothes!” Rawly exhales finally. “Your swimsuit yesterday about did me in.”
“My high school Speedo? It’s ugly!”
“And now---these---these yoga pants are--”
“What’s the matter with them? You said to wear something practical to exercise in. This is practical.”
“That spandex is way too form-fitting, Helen. I can see the outline of both nipples and a few other more provocative--”
“What’s next, Commander? My hair doesn’t suit you? My reading material offends--”
“No, that’s not what I meant and you know it!” He pauses with an angry sigh. “Dear God, woman, don’t you even realize when you’re turning a man on or are you really that dense?”
“Why are you being so hostile? I’m not the one who--”
“Look, we both know that, unlike you, I’m no saint.”
“Duh!”
My juvenile response angers him and he pulls his massive Humvee off the road and turns to glare at me as several cars honk and zoom by us. “Feel free to screw with my mind, Helen, I welcome the challenge, especially from you. But I have a physical limit so be very careful before crossing that line. You have no idea what you’re up against, so step carefully, very carefully.” He guns the engine and jerks us back into the traffic.
“This sounds like a problem you need to work out for yourself, Commander. Should I bring my rape whistle?”
“Do you even own one?”
“No,” I laugh and shake my head.
Rawly glances at me harshly then sighs looking heavenward. “God, Helen, you’re giving me nightmares.”
I uncomfortably fidget with the air conditioner because it is getting way too warm in the cab. I can smell him.
“Your idiocy towards the opposite sex boarders on insanity!”
“Wow,” I say, “that’s exactly what I was going to say to you.”
There is a long stretch of silence as he drives us along the bay and I rethink all the hundred and twelve questions I have for him, and decide what the heck, there’s no time like the present-- so here goes: “You know, Rawly, I was reading this book and it says that bananas are psychedelics.” He says nothing. “Wouldn’t that take an awful lot of bananas? How many do you suppose to drug, say, a man?”
“What book?”
“Oh, just some outrageous book from the internet that teaches you how to make drugs and weapons in your kitchen. I mean, I probably need to keep on top of all that.”
“Uh huh.” He steals a suspicious glance over at me.
“Well, I was wondering—if—well—”
“Yes?”
“Do you ever drug your victims first before you—you know?”
“My victims?” he asks with a chuckle.
“And, if so which do you prefer, DMT, Peyote, LSD--”
“You know,” he says shifting gears, “I’m starting to blur the lines between your offensive and defensive moves.”
I notice we are pulling into my old high school stadium’s vacant parking lot. Ra
wly turns the Humvee off and jumps out and comes around to my side before I can unbuckle. He silently opens my door and helps me slide out of the tall vehicle. He is silenter still as he unlocks the gate and takes the back of my elbow and leads us inside. I let him guide me into the vast silence as he propels us over to the darkened center of the football field. The grass is damp and warm around my ankles.
“It’s kind of dark and spooky,” I tell Rawly, looking up into the eerily vacant bleachers surrounding us.
Rawly doesn’t answer, just stares down at his watch counting silently to himself. “Now,” he says snapping his fingers and like magic the stadium lights begin to come on.
I spin around and clap. “Cool! How’d you do that?”
“Maybe your little book will tell you.”
I can tell I’ve confused him or made him angry and this pleases me so I laugh. “Obviously books can’t teach me everything, Commander, other wise you wouldn’t be here now.”
“Drop and give me twenty!”
“Why?” I meet his eyes and automatically take a step backwards as he advances toward me.
“Listen up, Helen. My tolerance only lasts so long therefore I plan on explaining myself one time only. Whatever motive you have hidden in your stubborn little skull, you’ve asked me to teach you how to fight, so I will. I will be as patient as humanly possible but what I’m about to teach you will hurt. If it doesn’t hurt then I’m not teaching you right. I won’t lie and pretend otherwise. You will get bruises on your beautiful little butt as well as your ego. You will break your dainty fingernails. You will have aching muscles you never even knew existed.”
“Okay,” I agree nodding my head.
“The first time you cry like a little girl these drills will be suspended until further notice, so watch your reactions around me, Helen. I am not paid to train children; I’m paid to train soldiers. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good. Then drop and give me thirty.”
“You said twenty!”
He leers at me and I hit the ground quickly. I haven’t done two before he stops me. “What the hell is that?”
“A modified pushup.”
“Do I look like an aerobic instructor?” I try again and it’s obvious I have no idea what I’m doing. “Watch me!” he bellows and hits the ground beside me. “Keep your legs straight.” He does ten by the time I’ve completed my first two. “Now together, three, four, five…”