Micah still wasn’t saying anything as he got up from the table taking his plate and Kimmy’s to the sink, rinsing them off and then placing them in the dishwasher. “I’m going to go change,” he stated as he headed for the stairs without pausing to give me a kiss or a hug or a ‘thanks for breakfast.’
I sighed and shook my head as I sat down to eat. I knew this whole business with Ryan was going to turn into a disaster; it had already ruined my morning and I wasn’t prepared to handle a jealous Micah for the remainder of the day.
I was in a state of dread by the time 10:30 rolled around. Micah hadn’t come out of his room since breakfast, and I was really worried about his mental state when he finally did. I was dressed and waiting, standing outside his bedroom door and just about to tap on it when it opened.
He had a smile on his face as I asked if he was ready. He only nodded. We walked down to the garage, and I opened the door to my car, noticing he wasn’t going for the passenger’s side. He headed for his Corvette instead.
“You want to take the Vet?” I asked, closing my door and starting toward him.
“We’ll take two cars.”
I didn’t like the way he said it and I was getting the distinct feeling he was up to something. He was being his unemotional self and I hated it when he did that.
“We don’t have to.”
“Leese, did you want to try out your new car on the strip?”
He knew I was dying to see what it could do, “Yeah, but-”
“Great. I want to see what my car can do, too. Who knows, baby, maybe you’ll finally get to race me.”
I was glad he was at least back to calling me baby, but he was still up to something.
I took the lead as we headed out of Palm Beach up 710 toward Okeechobee. Once out of town, the two lane road stretched before us in one continuous, long, straight sixty-mile line. I had my music playing nearly full bore to take my mind off the pending problem I was sure to be facing in another hour or so. I came up on a little Toyota chugging along at exactly fifty-five miles per hour. Before I could throw on my blinker and go around it, his Corvette blew past us both. All right, buddy, you’re challenging the wrong girl.
I had pushed my new twelve cylinders, but only slightly. I pressed the pedal down and let the engine roar. He was giving me a good run as he hadn’t let off the gas, and I couldn’t over-take him before oncoming traffic met me from the other direction, so I had to be patient and wait for another opportunity. I was on his tail and we were running just over a hundred before he came up on a pickup truck and had to bring it back to the legal limit. As an opening appeared he took it immediately before I could corral him into his lane.
We traveled this way for about twenty minutes before I saw my chance coming. It was going to be close. I would have to make sure my reflexes were timed perfectly as the oncoming semi-truck went by. The stretch would be open, but if Micah wasn’t paying attention to my move, this could end with a tremendous car crash. My driving instructor was screaming in the back of my head reminding me the key to any calculated driving experience was safety first. This was definitely calculated, I’d have it down to the inch, but the safety factor all depended on Micah paying attention.
The big rig was now on my left and the very second the back of his trailer passed my rear bumper, I switched into his lane with the pedal all the way to the floor. For an instant, I could tell Micah intended to pull into the lane, but he realized it was too late as I was already beside him and passing.
I laughed as I pulled in front of him, but my laughter was cut short when my cell phone rang; it was Micah and I knew I was getting ready to get yelled at.
“Hey, baby,” I gently answered.
“All right, I’m not passing you anymore. You proved your point, and I really do want to spend our wedding night together in a honeymoon suite instead of ICU.”
I let up my gas pedal, bringing my car down to about seventy, “I agree. I’ll be good-even if you are a lot of fun to race.” I was glad that he wasn’t angry with me.
He laughed and then told me he loved me and hung up.
Not surprisingly, we made the hour and a half trip in an hour. Ryan wasn’t there yet so we parked in the shade not too far from the entrance. I climbed out smiling, but my smile dropped when I saw his face. Maybe he was just a little bit angry about the whole dangerous passing play.
He pushed me against the back of my car, and kissed me, but still didn’t smile.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him to me to soften his anger with a hotter version of the kiss he had given me, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to take that opening, but you were impossible to-”
He stopped me, placing his hands on either side of my face and giving me the kind of kiss that took my breath away-the kind of kiss that told me just how real the love he felt for me was to him. What I had thought was anger was something else I didn’t understand; an emotion I had never encountered with Micah.
When the kiss ended, he suddenly seemed very emotional and some of what I was seeing appeared to be fear. Just what was he thinking? What could make a man who faced death regularly in his previous life fearful?
“Are you okay, baby?” I asked.
“No,” came the choked reply.
“Micah, you’re worrying me. What’s wrong?”
I heard the sound of a classic muscle car coming down the road. I really needed to find out what was wrong with my future husband before Ryan showed up and prevented me from getting to the bottom of this.
“Tell me,” I pressed.
Just as Ryan pulled in beside us, he kissed me passionately once more, smiled weakly, and then told me he’d see me at home.
“What!” I couldn’t believe it. Now I knew what was going through that mind of his; he had decided to trust Ryan and me alone together, “No-Micah, stay.”
But it was too late as he climbed back into the Vet and pulled out, burning the tires as he sped away.
Ryan got out slowly from his car, confusion written all over his face as he watched the Vet pull away. “He’s not staying?”
I could only shake my head as he disappeared, my emotions resting on my bottom lashes. Ryan realized I was ready to cry so he approached cautiously as he leaned back on my car, side to side with me and leaving no space between us. He slipped his arm around me.
“Are you okay? You guys didn’t have a fight over this, did you?”
“No,” my tears starting to fall as I spoke, “he was going to stay, but I think he just decided he’s got to learn to trust me and my decisions. I-I just never expected it; it was really hard for him to do.”
“Leese,” he stopped as a most unusual look hit him. He turned to face me, pulling my arms toward him.
I thought for a second he was going to try to make me embrace him, but it was my left hand he was actually after-the engagement ring.
“Did he… Ah, crap! Did he propose?”
I pulled my hands back from his grasp and wiped the tears away with my fingertips. “Yeah, we’re getting married in September.”
“Ah, Leese, don’t do that. You’re too young to be making that decision. Play the field before you buy it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, “Wow, I never heard that one. I guess you’re my last time in the field then because I’ve bought it-I love him.”
“Does that mean this is a chance to change your mind?”
“No, my mind is made up, and if it wasn’t for him wanting to wait, I’d be married to him right now.”
“Thank God at least he’s got a little bit of sense.”
My eyebrows went up, “You’re saying I don’t have any sense?”
“Not when it comes to him,” he answered, sounding exasperated.
I couldn’t argue about that. When it came to Micah, I had a very narrow focus, losing my peripheral ‘guy’ vision. The only other person I noticed was Ryan, but it was because he was-well, he was unique and he had taken a strong interest in me from the fi
rst day I met him and never let up. I know he wanted to see what would happen if he and I tried ‘us’ for a little while, but all I wanted was to keep him as a really good friend.
“You’re car looks a little different,” I said, changing the subject. “You put an air scoop in the hood?
“Yeah, after some chick in Pensacola beat the crap out of me in a 370Z, I put in a new engine. You won’t do that to me again.”
“Really? My Aston Martin has 510 horsepower. You might be in trouble.”
“Not this time, Leese. I’ve got Edelbrock carbs, Holley headers, and a new three-quarter cam shaft. You are looking at a supercharged, 454 that puts out over 650 horsepower. I have enough torque to rattle your brain when the pedal hits the floor. My car will eat yours for lunch.”
“Hum…this could be interesting, so I get the keys, huh?”
“As long as the doctors say your bullet hole is healed up, you can have the keys.”
My hand went instinctively to the scar on my chest, “The lung might tear back open, but if I start turning blue, then just call for a medevac.” The look on his face was priceless, but I couldn’t keep up that cruelty for long, “I’m kidding-I’m kidding, I’m fine.”
The remainder of the afternoon was a blast. He wasn’t joking about the car; it was, without a doubt, the most powerful piece of steel I’d ever controlled. I could actually pull the front tires off the ground when I took off. We spun out, skid, slid, and rocketed up and down the airstrip for hours.
Before we said our goodbyes, I challenged him against my car. I knew I was going to lose miserably, but I had to give it a try anyway. I actually beat him off the line simply because my car was lighter and didn’t try to eat the asphalt before catapulting into space. But beyond the line, I was a ghost in his rearview.
I thanked him for the date that I originally didn’t want to keep, but now was so glad I did. It was a chance to forget everything and just be eighteen and wild for a little while.
“So, you know I’m going to send you an invitation. Do you think you’ll be able to come? I know the timing isn’t great as far as school is concerned, but…”
Recognition crossed his face. He evidently didn’t realize I was talking about the wedding at first. “I-I might be able to make it, no promises, but I’ll try. Will I get a chance to kiss the bride?”
“On the cheek,” I laughed. “These lips belong to Micah, alone.”
He surprised me as he pulled me into his arms without warning, “You could at least enjoy a little freedom, before you say ‘I do.’ You know just to make sure you’re making the right choice.”
“Let go of me, Ryan. You are a great friend, but that is all I can offer,” I scowled, pushing my way out of his arms. “If you don’t want to keep me as a friend, I’ll under-”
“Ah, Leese, never, ever think that I don’t want to be your friend, but how would I know that you’re sure if I didn’t ask?”
I grinned and gave him a quick hug, putting a brief kiss on his cheek, “September 15th and you can return that kiss.”
He smiled broadly.
“On my cheek,” I finished.
With that I left and headed home, wondering the whole time what state Micah would be in when I got there.
I pulled into the drive way at 5:15. Mom’s car was missing and I was somewhat relieved because it meant Micah and I would have some private time to discuss my time spent with Ryan, and how he handled allowing me that freedom.
The door from the garage to the house was locked and when I opened it, the alarm gave its shrill warning. I quickly entered the code, realizing I was all alone. Micah’s car was in the garage, so he evidently rode with Mom and Kimmy somewhere. I grabbed my cell. Two rings and he answered the phone. They were at one of Mom’s favorite restaurants having dinner.
“I half expected Ryan would have asked you to have dinner with him or else I would have waited for you. We only left the house about fifteen minutes ago. Do you want to join us?”
I was actually tired from my adventure and, after all the time I spent driving Ryan’s car with the windows rolled down, I felt like half of the air strip was clinging to my skin. There were leftovers in the fridge, so I told him to enjoy himself and I’d see him when they came home.
I showered first and then slipped on a bikini top with a cotton over-shirt and a pair of short-shorts. The last thing I had eaten were pancakes this morning so I was starving by the time I came downstairs and began digging through the fridge. There was plenty of Hawaiian Chicken left over from last night along with Somen salad. I was reaching for a slice of mango bread when I saw the bottle of wine in the fridge. Mom would occasionally have a glass of wine at a restaurant, but she didn’t keep it in the house.
This was a bottle of Italian wine and it had been opened. It appeared several glasses had been consumed; I could only pray that Micah didn’t buy this in response to having left me in Ryan’s hands today. I didn’t like the idea of his drinking and I know he knew that. I began to think about what Ryan said to me several times today about the fact that I really didn’t know Micah that well and I might be jumping into something I would regret. I couldn’t imagine any regrets between Micah and me, but I still didn’t want to discover he had a weakness for alcohol.
I was feeling the heat of anger building inside me. I knew it wasn’t hard liquor, like the rum he once tried to get me to drink, but why did he need it at all? Wasn’t he happy enough to be here with me? Did he really need to have an occasional drink to satisfy something within him? I was starting to boil over. I nibbled a few bites from my dinner, but I lost the need for food. What I needed was an emotional release before my thoughts consumed me. I put the plate back in the fridge and went to the one place in our home where I knew could take my mind off my fears for a little while; my music studio.
Mom had the studio built off the apartment by the pool cabana so when I wanted to really crank up the volume, I wouldn’t disturb the whole house, or the neighbors. It was heavily sound proofed, although it could still be heard from outside the studio, but just as a muffled noise that didn’t travel far. We had mirrored the room on all four sides and put in the ballet bars for dance practice for both Kimmy and myself, but I didn’t do ballet anymore. I just liked to dance and sing when I wanted the world to go away.
I went into the control room and started the computer. Sitting there behind the one way glass, I looked out on the dance floor as I waited for it to boot up. We had put the one way glass in the booth so the dance floor would stay seamless. I found that I danced differently if I thought no one was watching. My dance instructor once told me I needed to learn to dance with an audience because I was very good at impromptu expression dancing, but when I knew I was being watched I was much more subdued. He proved the point by having Mom film me one day from inside the booth when I thought I was alone. The difference was like watching two completely opposite people; even I was impressed when she played the tape back for me.
With the computer up and my favorite playlist starting, I went out to the dance floor and let myself unwind. I had several playlists that went with whatever mood I happened to be in, and right now my mood was mainstream rock and roll; Springsteen, Mellencamp, Loggins, Seger, Golden Earring, ZZ Top-I was ready for a workout.
I slipped off the over-shirt before the first song ended; sweat starting to roll off me as I pushed myself to my physical limit. It was as much fun as Ryan’s car had been today. I moved every limb and joint, stretched and flexed each muscle and swung hips and shoulders to the pulsing rhythm; I was having enough fun to forget, temporarily, the bottle of wine in the fridge and the anger that went with it.
‘Hurt So Good,’ by Jon Mellencamp had just ended and I grabbed my shirt from the ballet bar and wiped the sweat from my face and patiently waited for the next song to begin. My chest was a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I knew the next song, from the first note, wasn’t from this playlist. It was a killer to dance to and I wondered who had a
dded it to my list, but that was no reason not to enjoy ‘Temperature’ by Sean Paul. Three and a half minutes later I was dying for a drink of water, but I didn’t want to quit. I’d get my drink and cool off before everyone got home, right now was my time to burn up the floor. I wiped my face and listened for the next song.
Okay this was getting weird, another song began that I knew wasn’t on this playlist. I had heard it before, but didn’t recognize it immediately. The beat was so familiar. I started to move to the pulse, but when the first sounds came out of the singer’s mouth I knew right away someone was in my control room. Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’Roses wasn’t one of my songs; it was Micah’s.
I stormed to the control room and jerked the door open. Micah was seated there with a smile tearing at the corners of his mouth. “Baby, I never knew you could dance like-like that,” he said through a smoldering stare.
“Ah! You’re supposed to be at the restaurant not-not spying on me!”
“We were at the restaurant, but when I told your mom that you were here, she asked them to put our orders in takeout boxes and we brought it back. I was wondering where you were, but your mom figured it out and let me into the control room to-to surprise you, I guess.”
“She knows I don’t like people watching me dance!” I snapped, my anger getting hotter. I felt as if I could pitch a fit. “I will discuss this with Mother.”
“Annalisa,” he reserved using my whole name for times when he wanted my full attention, and it worked.
I blinked a couple times, letting myself cool down, “What?”
“What made you decide to dance?”
I wanted to yell at him about the bottle of wine. I wanted to know if he drank when he was nervous or upset, but I knew better than to fly off the handle with him.
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