by TylerRose.
“I don’t know what we got to eat,” Mark said as they kicked off shoes in the entry.
They went directly to the refrigerator and poked around, opening containers.
“Doesn’t anyone ever clean this thing out?” Dale asked as he put the lid back on a bowl with fuzzy contents.
“I don’t know,” Mark said. “Ain’t my job.”
“Let’s just order a pizza,” Tyler said listlessly. “I got money.”
Dale and Rox glanced at each other and stood straight. Dale pushed the fridge closed.
“Wanna get a movie?” Mark suggested.
They were back on the road, snow coming down much thicker to form a heavy, wet blanket over the street and buildings. Traffic was slower, the roads getting hazardous. The ride to the video store took almost twenty minutes instead of the usual seven. The sun was down and the city looked grey and lifeless. The parking lot at the video store was empty but the lights were on and the Open sign was still in the door. They stomped their feet on the door rug to get snow off.
“Hey, customers,” the only employee in sight said, as if they were the first to ever frequent the place.
Tyler had never seen him here before but he was familiar. She’d seen him somewhere. Over six feet tall with a mustache and goatee and straight black hair halfway down his back. His voice was cheerful, but his eyes revealed a darkness. Eye. One was dead inside. Not real. He had a long vertical scar over that eye, the right eye. It started just above his eyebrow, skipped his lid and picked up below the eye. A knife. She could feel the pain of the knife, could almost see the blade that had inflicted so terrible a wound.
Looking to the other eye, she recognized something there. An unspoken something they had in common though they’d never met. With a blink, she placed him. He often visited the Droghers club house.
He reached for the ringing phone and she watched his sculpted arm and those nimble fingertips as they plucked the receiver up from the cradle. She guessed him to be about 26. His name tag read Jerome. Somehow, the name fit him. The Droghers called him Tiberius.
Mark nodded a greeting and led the group to the New Release wall. Tyler stood in the center of the aisle, staring miserably at the floor and displays. She had no desire to even be here, but democracy ruled. She’d have been fine with whatever was on cable. Mark showed her a box and she shrugged.
“I don’t care.”
She heard him sigh as he turned away. He was beginning to lose patience and she didn’t care about that either. She was suddenly aware that she was being watched. Not from the front counter, however. From almost directly overhead. She tilted her head back, finding the camera in the corner of wall and ceiling and stared hard into whatever eyes were on the other side.
Movie chosen, it was time to go. They had picked something she had not even cared to see when it was in the theater. Oh, joy. She followed them up to the counter, dissatisfied with everything and becoming more so by the moment.
Jerome’s bodybuilder friend had come over from the gym next door and was leaning over the empty counter. Tony was several inches taller than Jerome, with a muscular build that could easily have won the Mr. Olympia contest. He was the biggest, blackest man she ever laid eyes on. Something about him was oddly familiar too, though she’d never seen him before. She had a vision of a man like him, naked and wrestling in the middle of a large room full of people watching and cheering.
Forget the dark alley, she wouldn’t mind meeting him in a candlelit bedroom. Too bad he’d never be interested in her. Being seen as jailbait was a bitch.
She looked over to Jerome again, trying to figure his ancestry. She could guess he was part Mexican, but there was something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Indian, perhaps? Cheekbones, jaw line…straight as straight hair. Yes, she decided. American Indian and Mexican mix. Likely with very little or no Caucasian blood. She could sense the power of his presence. Potent male energy that filled this entire end of the store.
They were an imposing sight, the two of them side by side. She could easily see them fighting back to back.
“How’s your mother looking tonight, Tyler?” a familiar female voice jeered as a group of preppy-fucks walked behind her.
Tyler’s head snapped up. She knew such a deep rage that she had to take action. She felt herself darken inside. This would not pass unpunished.
“Excuse me,” she said to Tony with a quiet smile and turned around.
She followed the group down an aisle, ignoring Rox’s small plea. Her eyes locked onto the tall black-haired girl, her left hand reached out to tap a shoulder, the other already drawing back. Marcy turned around and froze, mouth hanging open to say, “What?” As soon as Tyler saw face, her fist landed. Dead center, solid, aiming for the back of the skull. She’d been taught how to hit to cause maximum damage in one punch. Marcy’s legs buckled and down she went, hard on her ass, nose gushing a flood and her front teeth loose. Tyler bent over, putting her eyes inches away from Marcy’s.
“You look just like her now, Marcy. How’s it feel? Come back in two days and I’ll do it again so you get the whole experience,” Tyler growled.
She stood straight and pushed off with her right foot and crashed into the hardest body she had ever smacked against. His crackling energy knocked her nearly as senseless as the ricochet off the rock solid body. She had to take half a step back just to stay on her feet.
“What’s the problem?” he asked pointedly.
“No problem,” Tyler replied, eyes wide and blank.
“Then why’s she bleeding?”
“Because I punched her in the face. Did you miss it? I can do it again, if you like.”
“Okay, that’s it!”
Oops.
“No! Not the jacket—Aw, man!”
She was dragged by the collar of her leather toward the counter. She got her footing and walked, highly annoyed at this interference. The big guy Tony passed her on his way to help Marcy. Tyler was steered into an office and dropped unceremoniously into a chair, Jerome stood in front of her, leaning against one of the three desks. He looked pretty damn good all pissed off like that, all important-like. Damn he was strong. Just as strong as Nails was, if not more. He certainly had a body as hard as Nails’ was. She was turned on beyond all measure by that bounce off of him.
“Now what’s your problem?” he demanded.
“Nunya, man,” she muttered, taking her cigarettes from her pocket. Was he going to be a total dick and take her smokes away?
“What was that, mouth?”
Tyler hated that authoritative tone adults took to when they didn’t approve of the response she gave. She glared up, falling automatically into her hard-ass self.
“None ya fuckin’ business.”
She lit a smoke and inhaled deeply, exhaling up to him, almost daring him to try and take it from her. He showed no reaction.
“I heard what she said. What did she mean?”
“It’s none of your business,” she replied in a tone equal to his.
“You’re not leaving until you tell me.”
The retort sprang to her lips. “Holding me against my will when I’ve not committed a crime involving your merchandise is illegal.”
A grin slowly spread over Jerome’s face and Tyler knew he wasn’t going to fall for it. Damn it. He wasn’t as dumb as the average asshole.
“I’ll be holding you for the police on a charge of assault unless you explain yourself.”
That wasn’t going to happen. Tyler “explained” herself to no one but Nails. Besides, the police were no big shake. There was a good possibility she’d see one who had come to the house. She shrugged.
“Go ahead and call. Won’t be the first time and it won’t be the last. But considering the weather, do you really want to sit here for three hours? I think you’d rather go home.”
“I live upstairs. I got all night.”
Fuck. She slouched down farther in the chair, unable to catch a break today.
Tony came in and she watched him go to the little refrigerator. Nice wide shoulders, good definition in the arms, tight glutes.
MM mmmm MM.
“How is she?” Tyler asked with a prickly bite to her tone.
She saw Jerome turn his head toward her, but ignored him. She was too busy looking at Tony’s fineness. She did so love a spandex workout suit. He wrapped ice cubes into a thick layer of paper towels.
“She has a broken nose and two black eyes and you nearly knocked out her front teeth.”
Tyler was pleased. Confirmation of her heart’s desire. She’d wanted to deck Marcy one for a long time. Her mouth lifted in a satisfied smile as Tony left the room in a hurry.
“At the very least you should apologize to her,” Jerome said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Tyler snorted “Yeah, right!”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I. She should apologize for her remark. An’ don’t even bring her in here an’ try an’ make us shake hands. I’ll deck the twat again and enjoy it thoroughly.”
Jerome stared at her again and she returned the gaze. On this she would not back down.
“Why don’t you just tell me what she meant?”
“Because it’s none of your business. What part of that do you not understand?”
“I’ll just call the police,” he said, losing patience and reaching for the phone. “You can tell it to them.”
“What do you think they’ll do?” she asked in indignation. “They don’t do shit to help anyone.”
Jerome’s hand stopped, hovering over the receiver. “What does that mean?”
Tyler looked away, jaw clenching tight. She had to look away, pissed at herself for slipping. She hated it when she spoke on instinct. Gotta remember to think before you speak, she glowered.
“If there something going on that justifies what you did, then tell me,” he said.
Tyler’s face grew hard. She tried, but could not prevent herself from breathing a bit heavier. Why was this guy getting under her skin when no one else could?
“Keeping silent doesn’t help anything,” he said, softening his tone considerably.
“Neither does talking.”
“Do you want to go to CSI? Have you ever been there?” he asked, tone rising.
Tyler clenched her jaw even tighter. She had been to the Child Study Institute kiddie jail once before. An overnight when Mother and her husband were out of town. She’d been busted stealing a pack of cigarettes. That was almost nine months ago. Nails had gotten her out and taken her into his custody, and given her ass a blistering she often remembered in moments like this. In her peripheral vision, she saw Jerome squat down in front of the chair. When he spoke, his voice was calm as could be.
“Please talk to me, Tyler. Mind if I call you Tyler?”
“That is my name. What else would you call me?”
“A few things come to mind,” he grinned. “But I’ll stick with Tyler. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, then I’ve got to call the police on you. I don’t want to do that if I don’t have to. I’m tryin’ to help you here. And I agree. They really don’t help. Their lack of help is how I got this,” he said, pointing to his glass eye.
Trust was never an easy thing for her to give. Only her closest friends had ever been told of the home life. Marcy only knew because she was in the band and overheard her talking with Mickey. Could she trust this guy? Would he believe her? Would it matter? Most adults didn’t care. He seemed sincere enough. It wasn’t like he was “doing his job” as school counselor or something. She didn’t have that intense urge to run from him.
Tough decision, and she stared hard at him, stared into that one real eye and read his soul. She saw that same something familiar inside him, something she knew, and that knew her.
While he might have had a particular darkness to his energy that she couldn’t put a name to, and an almost primordial smell to his aura, his energy was strong and clean. One of the strongest she’d ever been in contact with. His heart was pure enough but he was no angel. She could see real danger in him, but no ulterior motives. He might have been hiding a deep, dark something, might have been a dangerous man to cross, but he was not dangerous to her.
She had a sudden image of a sea anemone and a clown fish.
“What I say does not leave this room?” she asked with quiet decisiveness.
“Guaranteed.”
She took a deep breath, eyes drawn to the clock on the wall for a quick check of the time. She looked back to him, holding his gaze as she spoke.
“My mother often has black eyes. Her husband is a major dick.”
“Your father?” he asked, standing out of the crouched position.
Damn he was tall. Was that cologne or his aura, or both? His proximity was making her dizzy.
“No. Her second husband,” she said, leaning forward to toss the burned out cigarette butt into the ashtray on the edge of the desk. She slouched back, eyes glaring up at him. “So are you gonna call the cops or what? I ain’t got all fucking night.”
His silence seemed a bit too long. “No. You go wait in the car while I get your friends outta here.”
“I suppose I’m barred from the store now.”
He sighed, heavy and long. “No. Just wait a couple weeks before you come back.”
Tyler nodded. That suited her fine, especially since she’d be long gone by then.
“Fair enough.” She started to push out of the chair, stopping when she realized something was missing. “Am I free to go or are you going to give me the obligatory lecture on handling anger and not punching people in the face when they piss me off?”
Jerome cracked a grin—nice teeth. “I am no one to give that lecture to anyone. I’d probably have done the same thing. You’ve been taught how to fight, haven’t you?”
“Enough.”
“Go on. Get out of here.”
She left, giving Rox a sly smile as she passed the counter. She waited patiently in the car, smoking a joint, and put it out when she saw them exit the building. She didn’t like sharing her stash. Everyone was silent as they got in and Mark fired up the engine.
“I can’t believe you sometimes,” he said he backed the car out of the parking space.
The car slid in the wet snow as he turned toward the street. Snow was piling up fast.
“I gave her what she deserved.”
“In the middle of the god-damn video store?!”
“A lot easier than in the snow,” Tyler quipped, quite pleased with herself and very much enjoying her buzz.
“You could have let it go.”
“No, I couldn’t. I’m tired of that bitch’s mouth. She can’t keep it shut, so I showed her what happens.”
“Real mature,” Mark said.
“I don’t care what you think. I do what I have to.”
“I thought you had thicker skin,” he said as they turned onto Cass Road.
Tyler eyes slid over to him. “If you’re gonna keep that tone, you may as well shut the fuck up.”
“Jesus! Now I know why your stepfather beats your mother—if she’s anything like you.”
Tyler’s blood roiled with a betrayed fury she’d never felt before. She flicked her lit cigarette hard at him, hitting his cheek with the cherry. He jumped as it fell to his lap. He slammed on the brakes, the car sliding to an angled stop, and scrambled to get the fire away before it burned him or the seat.
“Bitch! What the fuck is your problem?” he yelled.
Tyler shoved the door open. “Go fuck yourself, Mark.”
She got out, thrust a foot backward to slam the door shut and stalked over to the curb to walk off the street. She heard the door on the other side of the car open.
“Come on, Tyler. I’m sorry. Get in the car.”
“Fuck you.”
For some things there was no sorry.
The wind was picking up in equal measure to her fury, lowering the chill factor considerably a
nd driving thick snow all around. She’d not worn her scarf or gloves, and shoved her bare hands into her pockets. She heard the engine rev and the blue Grand Am drove away. A minute later the car came by on the other side of the road, honking as the driver’s window rolled down.
“Don’t be stupid, Tyler! Come on and get in.”
She zipped up her jacket to protect her mouth and nose from the cold, refusing to acknowledge him. The car turned onto Heatherdowns and then into the video store parking light. She crossed the side street, walking steady and straight. The car reappeared and approached, slowing to a crawl. It stopped and Mark jogged up to her. She stared at him in stony silence, daring him to get too close.
“I’m sorry, Tyler. Please get in before you freeze,” he said in earnest. “I’ll take you home.”
Her hands clenched tighter in her pockets, she lifted her chin over the collar of her jacket to speak.
“Sorry doesn’t cover this, Mark. I never wanna see you again. Why don’t you call up Marcy. You’re two of a kind.”
Mark released a frosty breath, looking out over the desolate field. A passing car honked.
“At least let me give you a ride home.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” she said in an oddly calm tone. She was so angry she had gone into a state of complete tranquility.
“Where you gonna go? The video store’s closed.”
“It’s none of your god-damn business.”
She shouldered past him. He reached out to grab her arm and slipped, falling to the frozen ground. She continued on, determined not to get into the car no matter what he said or did. She’d freeze to death before she got into that car.
She heard the car door open, the bingbingbing of the door alarm, heard it slam shut. He gave the engine too much gas and the tires spun in the snow. The shrill noise stopped and the car pulled away. She hoped he wouldn’t drive by again.
The walk to the video store was difficult in the cold, wet snow already several inches deep on the open ground. The lack of sidewalks didn’t help. She shivered constantly by the time she reached the building and cut across the snow-covered grass in front.