by TylerRose.
One reading only and she would tie them with the purification ribbon and put them away.
Chapter Fourteen
“She has returned,” Landra Ahr said.
Jerome hung up on him and went up to knock on her bedroom door. “Can you be ready early and we’ll have dinner before your shift? Just you an’ me?” he asked when she opened the door.
“What about the others?”
“Gable’s bringing the girls and Tony’s coming separately.”
“I have to shower. I need at least an hour.”
“Me too. You feel better? You were way preoccupied earlier.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I’m better.”
“Good.”
A kiss in the doorway and he went to his own room to get ready. Finished first and waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her, he could only blink as she descended. Black and rhinestone bustier, bolero jacket, black jeans, her leather boots. Eye makeup and liner brought out the brilliant green of her eyes. Beautiful curls he could spend a lifetime getting lost in.
“Ya know, when I think I know what to expect, you blow me away all over again,” he said, arm slipping around her waist when she reached the last step. A gentle pull forward, pelvis to pelvis. “Hey there, gorgeous.”
A kiss before she could stop him, palm fully cupping her buttock. Then he had her by the hand and they were leaving, her leather jacket over his arm. They toked a joint along the drive to Giuseppe’s and she saw the marquis board.
Ballroom Dance Contest 7pm
“You fucker,” she said.
He chuckled. “It’s only six now, so we can eat and then do the dancing.”
“Yeah, but it totally changes my dinner selection. I can’t have a big-ass burger now.”
Inside, signed up for the contest, and he took her to his table. She ordered the half-size lemon chicken salad with Italian dressing on the side. She’d have the burger for break later when she was hungry again. Their food was arriving when Gable and the girls came in.
“Dance competition?” Gable wondered. “That’s new.”
“Giuseppe decided to do something different for the early part of the evening. This way the diners get a floor show and someone wins five hundred bucks,” Jerome said.
“And you totally did not suggest it after our trip to Chicago,” Tyler accused.
He only smiled. Tony showed up. She and he ignored each other.
“Contestants please come to the dance floor to receive your numbers,” someone announced at ten minutes before seven.
There were five other couples competing, all dressed appropriately because they’d known what was going on. Then there stood Jerome and Tyler in their jeans and boots. She left the bolero jacket in the booth, so at least her upper half was sort of in proper attire.
“Ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment, Giuseppe’s is proud to present its first ballroom dance competition. There will be three rounds with a ten minute break between for scores to be calculated and announced. Our first dance is the Foxtrot. The top four scores will move on to round two. Dancers, take your places and remain inside your squares.”
Pause as couples took the dance floor.
“Dancers ready.”
The music began and each couple had their own space to to perform within. Jerome pushed the boundaries on all sides, but timed himself so they never neared collision and never crossed over. Break when it was over to get a drink and catch their breath, and they headed back to get scores. The MC, a local television news anchor, went down the row to each couple for their names and a quick line or two.
“Jerome,” he said.
“Tyler,” she said.
“Are you married?”
“No!” they exclaimed together, bringing uproarious laughter from the audience.
“Well, you dance together very well. The judges have awarded you an eight and two nines, for a score of twenty six out of thirty.”
On down the line he went and they were easily in second place. One team had scored three nines.
“The second dance will be done in procession around the floor,” the MC announced. “Couples, take your spots for…the Viennese Waltz.”
One they’d performed together once, so weren’t going into completely cold. The crowd went silent as the dance began, gasped aloud when a couple tripped and fell. Jerome spun Tyler around the heap on the floor without missing a step, to much applause.
In the last seconds, he held her under the arms for a sweeping spin, her legs wide and the side of her right foot dragging solidly over the floor to keep within the “no lifts” rule. They were the only couple to finish with the woman posed on the floor.
Looking up to him, her cheek in his palm, eyes locked, he saw an eternity in their depths. He saw meaning. He saw that he belonged at her side for the next five thousand years.
Helping her up, into a mutual kiss, and then walking her to the nearest table for a rest and water, he no longer heard the cheers of the crowd. He heard her heartbeat, beating in time with his.
A moment and couples were called to the floor.
“You dance professionally together?” the MC asked when he got to them.
“No. This is only the second time we’ve danced together,” she said.
“You must be doing something right. A ten and two nines, for a total of twenty eight.”
Again second highest. The team to beat had one point more.
The final dance, the Paso doble, would be done one couple at a time, with scores immediately at the conclusion of each, order determined by random draw out of a hat. Tyler made sure she and Jerome went last and she shushed him when he wanted to gab. She studied the couples, remembering nuances of the bold dance. She’d not performed it in a very long time. Both couples scored a twenty eight.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said, stalking over to take her place.
As much posturing as the Tango but with more attitude. A dance for dominance and she teased him at every opportunity. A series of turns and he grasped for her as she spun out of reach. Catching up to her in the knee walk and then on his feet to take capture her by the hair and push her down. She slid down his leg in the finishing move.
Applause, cheering that would not stop, and they scored two tens and a nine and won first place. Still out of breath at the table, three sets of stares lifted to her.
“What?” she shot at them, and downed the rest of her water. “Okay, I gotta work.”
She kissed Jerome and went to her spot at the bar rail.
“You two been takin’ classes?” Gable accused.
“No,” Jerome replied.
“You practice in your room.”
“No. Tony, let’s shoot some stick.”
Together they folded the cloth covering Jerome’s perpetually reserved table.
“How’s your mom?” Jerome asked.
“She’s fine. How’s Chen?”
“Same as always. I’ll rack first game.”
Tony chalked his stick while Jerome flipped balls around. “You two got close fast.”
“She’s one hell of a woman, Tone. She’s smart, sharp. Funny as hell when she wants to be. She knows how to get things accomplished. We have some food for the refugees already. Safe Haven is all but ready. Now, thanks to her, we may have more backup too.”
“How?” Tony asked, bending over to shoot.
A powerful thrust that sank the three but left a lousy lay for the one ball. He went for the safety, tapping the cue off the one to hide behind the six.
“Oh, you gonna make me work for it,” Jerome grinned, and jumped the cue to make the one. “We’ll talk details another time. You didn’t bring your girlfriend?”
“We broke up Wednesday.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear it,” Jerome said sincerely, and sank the two.
“Don’t be. She was just another gold diggin’ whore. Always wanting me to buy her shit.”
“Why you gotta make it so damn difficult, Tony?” Four ball in the side pocket.
“I said nothing about Tyler. Your mind went there.”
“That’s not what I was referring to at all, bro,” Jerome said, dropping the five in. “The whole attitude, man. It’s just unpleasant.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you in February,” Tony replied and dropped the cue stick on the table.
He walked away, balls rolling this way and that, and left the restaurant. Jerome didn’t go after him. Stick moved, he cleared the table with one shot per ball. He put the cover back on and went home. At the restaurant table, Gable and the girls were ready to go too. They didn’t like the band much anyway.
Tyler took a quiet moment to speak to Giuseppe and made a phone call. Back at the rail, she sensed a darkness at the door. Evil. She did not recognize the face, but there was something oddly familiar about him. She should know him. He was someone. His energy…
His eyes met hers. Without being too obvious, he steered his crew of three into the bar. She took a seat on a stool to be more accessible and get him closer so she could find out who he was.
“Beer,” he said, stepping in next to her. “I’ll take what’s on tap. And whatever the lady is drinking.”
Looking at her as she looked up at him, he scanned down and up, eyes settling on the top swell of her breasts. He wasn’t quite handsome. His attraction came from his confidence. He liked the bustier very much.
“You are one fine lookin’ honey. You old enough to be in here?”
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she smiled, searching his memory for why she should know him.
He grinned. “Let’s get a table and have supper. What’s your name?”
“Rose.”
“I’m Honcho.” Hand out for a cordial grip.
The name was familiar, but she knew everything as soon as she took his hand. Honcho and his old crew had raped and murdered Lana and Linda Black, Jerome’s sister and Grandmother. Getting his retribution, Jerome had lost an eye and his brother. And his grandfather. He had been on probation for six years.
She made his beeper go off so he would have to leave.
“Shit! Fucking figures,” he muttered.
He snagged a pen from a passing waitress and wrote on the back of a card from his pocket.
“Call me,” he smiled, handing it over. “I’ll give you a time or five you’ll never forget.”
She took the card, smiling in return. “I’m sure.”
He left and she couldn’t wait for the night to be through, thinking all the while how she was going to deal with this. Jerome had a right to know. She could not hide this even if she tried. It wouldn’t be right to hide this.
Soon as the band finished its midnight set, she fired them. The minute the last patrons were out the door, so was she, porting directly to Jerome’s room. Hand on his shoulder, sitting on the bed, she woke him gently. He slept so rarely that she hated to do it.
“Yeah?” he woke, turning to see her in the dark. “What?”
She turned on the small bedside lamp and unhurriedly undressed to her skin. Eyes locked, his face as unreadable as hers, she reached a hand out to him.
“Please come here.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t look right. What happened?” he asked, leaving his bed.
“Shh,” she said, a finger over his lips.
She took him by the hand to the wood floor of his workout space, sat him down on it and straddled his waist. Legs wrapped around him, feeling his warm comfort in the silence.
“What’s this all about?” he asked, becoming more serious.
“Will you trust me and not question why?”
Silence.
“Okay.”
“Tell me about your Grandmother Linda.”
She felt his skin tense, felt him almost demand why. She shivered with the intensity of his energy, needing this closeness to calm herself as much as contain him when the moment came.
“She was beautiful,” he chose to start. “Very kind and loving. She took care of me and my sisters and Terry when Mom and Dad died. Her and Habalito.
Opening her eyes, Tyler saw his grandmother standing there in the room with them.
“Tell me about him.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t sound right,” he said with growing impatience.
“Please, Jerome. Tell me,” she said, clinging tighter.
“He was the father I knew best. I was six when our parents died. The youngest. He raised me. He gave me the Staff when I turned fifteen. Told me it came from the traditional hunting grounds of our Blackfeet Ancestors and it was my turn to hold it.”
“Were you wearing it when you lost your eye?” she asked.
“Yeah. I know now that it kept me alive. Otherwise I’d been dead a long time ago.”
“If you could order the perpetrator found and killed, how would you want it done?”
Dead silence for a good half a minute as he digested the question and tried hard not to question why she was asking.
“A long, slow, agonizing death of inches that he had to watch coming and could do nothing to escape,” he said.
“How about a fall from 10,000 feet onto the middle of a parking lot?”
He chuckled. “That would be very cool.”
Her energy vibrated against his briefly as she did exactly that.
“I have something that belongs to you,” she whispered, cheek still on his shoulder. “And you’re going to be very angry.”
“What?”
Her hand came up, a white card between first and middle fingers.
“Retribution.”
He took it, flipping to read as she held tight around him.
Honcho somethingorother
419-69…
His arm clenched too tight around her as he comprehended, her body molding under the force. Their energies sparked with a sizzling crackle.
“Get up.”
“No,” she whispered, holding fast, enduring the pain of his Staff Power as it scorched over her.
“Get off me!”
“No.”
His Staff Power surged and she countered with a psychokinetic field. He tried to pull her arms away, smacked her ass sharply, hard enough to make her yelp.
“I’m gonna kill him. Get the fuck off me!” he snarled, about to turn into a fury.
She would not move. “You have earned that right. But stop. Please. Be still a moment before your rage blinds you,” she said below his ear, shaking as his wrath washed over her skin in a painful prickling, burning sensation. Searing her skin, nerve endings on fire, a pain like she’d never experienced before.
Her head lifted so she could look at him.
“Get off me, Tyler,” he warned.
Dangerous eyes. He might act out violently at any second, but she could not give in this time.
“No. I can’t.”
“You can’t tell me no!” he growled, hands getting rougher as he tried to pry her arm away. His hand struck her thigh harder and she only flinched. Fingers clenched deep in his hair, tears falling one big drop at a time as she held his eye contact.
“I have to. Unless you can wait until February 19th to have your retribution, I have to tell you no.”
“No, I can not wait!” Fingers digging painfully into her upper arm.
“Then I cannot let you go,” she said over the strangling lump in her throat, ignoring the pain. “I want to. I want you to have that peace. But you would go to prison or be on the run or dead, and we would be on our own to fight Adamantine. We’re so close,” she pleaded, caressing his cheek. “I can’t let anything interfere. Not even this. This never did before because I was never here before. I was not at the restaurant to see him. Your paths never crossed.”
“Then why give me the card in the first fucking place?” he snarled, standing with her wrapped around him and thumping her back hard against the wall.
“Because I could not keep it from you,” she said, holding fast.
“But you can tell me no I can’t use it?” he seethed, hand large on
her chest and fingers stretching up around her neck, ready to choke her. “What shit is that?”
“It’s killing me to tell you no, Jerome. Can’t you feel it pounding through me?”
He could. Her heart was racing hard enough he could see it move the bones of her chest plate and feel it wail against his palm. An unnatural hammering within her.
“Hit me if you have to” she said, eyes hardening. “Beat the piss outta me. Just remember I brought to you the one thing you have wanted above all things for eleven years. What no one else could ever give you, Sifu. I lay retribution at your feet. When they find his crushed body and come to question you, you can truthfully say you did nothing and did not order it done. You were here. Naked with your lover when she got off work. All night. I’ve got the bruises to prove how rough our sex is.”
“Where is he?” Jerome demanded.
“Five seconds from impact,” she said. Silence. “Two, one. Splat. He saw every second. The lights of the parking lot from so high overhead. The people as he neared the ground. The cars coming to park, leaving. Screaming like a little girl the entire way down. He landed head first and his brain splattered all over the asphalt drive like a big, juicy watermelon.”
Silence as he glared hard at her, not sure if he should believe it.
“If you need to punish me, so be it,” she said. “I did exactly what you said you wanted done to him in retribution for the women beaten and raped and killed just like was done to me by another man. On the front of that card is his business. It’s about to be for sale.”
Another crackling moment of anger. He stepped backwards with her to sit on the edge of the bed, arms wrapping around more gently. At last she relaxed, and started shaking. Her strength was quickly draining away now the crisis was over, increasing the tremble to an uncontrollable level.
“Please forgive me for not letting you go,” she whispered, unable to stop the steady flow of tears.
“He’s really dead?” he asked.
“Yes. A death he saw coming and could do nothing to escape. Your wish fulfilled, Sifu.”
With her in one arm, he scooted backwards to lean against the pillows and held her in the silence. He lit a cigarette, turned off the small lamp.