by Unknown
Stormy nodded and headed for the nearest shop.
She hated shopping, but luckily on this occasion, it was easy. She walked in and was met instantly by a rack of summery dresses, a few bright t-shirts and a pair of shorts. She grabbed three items and hauled them over to the register to pay.
A man had never bought her clothes before. It was completely foreign. But Marcus was probably that kind of guy – the dependable husband-type man, who provided for his partner. It was a bizarre concept to her; not even her own father had provided for his family. That’s probably why she’d landed up in two foster homes over the years. Her foster families had been sort of okay (not really)… It hadn’t been easy.
When she was sixteen, she’d gone looking for her mother, driven by a naïve childhood fantasy that maybe she could have a life with her. That dream had soon been shattered, and she’d been left heartbroken when she finally tracked her mother down to a hippie colony on the Transkei coast.
Stormy had been surprised when she’d arrived. The thing looked less like an informal colony and more like one of those compounds you might see in a program on the reality TV channel about a strange religious leader with ten wives and seventy-five children. Her mother was also not what she’d spent so many of her childhood hours imagining. For starters, she was bald – completely bald. In Stormy’s imagination, her mother’s hair was long and thick, the color of bright golden sunshine. Her clothes too were nothing like the colorful, flowing pink thing Stormy had imagined her ethereally wafting around in. Her outfit looked more like a silver astronaut suit.
“Hey, aren’t you my daughter?” her mother had said to her upon meeting. She talked particularly slowly and flatly, with no emotion in her voice whatsoever. “I’ve seen a picture of you.” It was bizarre. Almost robotic.
And when Stormy had asked if she could stay with her and get to know her, her mother – or should she say ‘Andromeda’ – had basically said that she wasn’t mother material. “This parent thing is just not for me.” That was all she’d gotten.
Rejection. Abandonment of the cruelest kind. Especially when she’d seen a young silver-haired boy with piercing emerald green eyes walk up to her and tug on her possessively.
She’d gone back to her foster family feeling utterly heartbroken and more alone and worthless than she’d ever felt in her entire life. But when her father had married Lilly’s mom a few months later, and Stormy had moved in with them, things had finally started looking up. She had a sister for the first time, someone who she loved and cared for, and those feelings were reciprocated. She had finally dared to hope that she would know happiness and stability in her life. But it’d been short-lived, and a few months later, they were divorced and Stormy was on her own with her deranged father again. But she hadn’t lost Lilly, at least – they would always be sisters as far as they were concerned, and that’s why she had to get to her wedding celebrations, no matter what it took.
Trying to shake herself out of her weirdish mood, she went to the bathroom, slipped on one of the dresses and tied her hair back. It was a simple white dress with no patterns or colors – totally not her usual style, but better than leather-studded bodysuits. At least she still had some colorful bangles on. She walked out and saw Marcus was waiting for her right where he said he would be. Mr. Reliable.
Thank God for modern technology, Marcus thought. The guy at the electronics store had shown him how to sync his new phone with the cloud back up system, and the shiny new device had instantly populated with all his contacts, emails and photos. It was like having his old phone back, and it made him feel a little more in control again. Pocketing the phone, he looked up and saw Stormy making her way towards him across the crowded airport terminal, and he found himself blinking rapidly. When she wasn’t wearing loud, distracting clothes, she was gorgeous; with her colorful hair pulled back in a ponytail, instead of all over the show, she was stunning.
He took a deep breath and steadied himself. They were going to be in a car together for the next six and a half hours, and he needed to get a grip on himself. But she was looking better than he’d ever seen her before; in fact, the stripper clothes might have been preferable.
“So, road trip!” Stormy said brightly, handing back his credit card.
“Road trip,” Marcus echoed vaguely, still enthralled with her.
“So, what do you think?” Stormy asked playfully, twirling around so her dress lifted just a bit above her knees.
He nodded and smiled, trying not to betray what he really thought. “Much better.”
“Thank you so much,” Stormy said with a sweet, sincere smile that made her look even more beautiful. “No one has ever bought me clothes before.” Marcus noticed a slight note of sadness in her voice as she said it.
He watched her as she swept her hands over the dress and swayed from left to right. She smiled up at him again, and Marcus felt his heart melt just a little bit. She was suddenly stirring feelings of a very different sort in his gut.
He was in serious trouble.
Red, flashing warning sign trouble.
11
Faith in Sammy
Marcus was reminded of the story of the Ugly Duckling that turns into a beautiful swan. The duckling had no idea it would turn into a swan. And he’d just watched a similar transformation take place in front of his eyes. He wondered ifStormy knew how beautiful she really was, especially when she removed all the “stuff” that seemed to disguise and distract.
He walked out of the airport thinking about this, and watched her closely as she went. She stopped and picked a single flower that was growing through a small crack in the concrete and tucked it into her ponytail. Even like this – a down-played version of herself – she was still totally unique, different in every way. She certainly didn’t need all those other adornments. There was something so innocent and childlike about her demeanor, in one respect; and then in another, she was an absolute demon in bed… He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind.
Yet another disaster was awaiting them at the car rental place. Great! The only car available was an old, manual Merc from the 80s – perhaps even older. No aircon, no electric windows, and a missing hubcap.
But it was all they had. Marcus felt his sense of control slipping again; he was not used to this kind of transportation. At least he’d managed to get himself a new phone with GPS, so there was no getting lost.
He watched Stormy walking around the car curiously, her hand trailing over the roof and then down onto the bonnet. For a split second, he found himself enthralled by her once again. By the way she moved and the way her fingertips left a trail across the car’s dusty bonnet…
Stormy dusted off her hands and stood beside the car, nodding approvingly. “Good car. It has a good vibe.”
“And how do you get that?”
“Mmmm,” she intoned, patting the car’s bonnet as if it were a dog that had just done a good trick. “Six-and-a-half sense kind of thing-thang.”
Yet again, she was demonstrating her unusual talent for leaving him completely speechless and bewildered. “You know, Stormy,” he said as he loaded the bags into the car, “I just don’t know what to say to that.”
Stormy looked confused. “Why not?”
“I feel obligated to point out to you that cars don’t give off vibes.”
“How do you know?”
Marcus opened his mouth to respond sarcastically, when he remembered – whenever they argued, she landed up naked and pinned underneath him. It was safer not to argue! “You’re right. I don’t know. Maybe they do give off vibes,” he conceded.
Stormy turned and pointed at him enthusiastically. “See! You’re coming around to the many impossible possibilities of life!”
“Mmm-hmm,” he responded vaguely. What he really wanted to say was “NO”. But he just couldn’t afford to argue with her, or he might be compelled to jump h
er again. He knew it was weird and totally illogical, but that seemed to be how things worked between them. Weird and illogical. Once again, he reflected that no one had ever challenged him like Stormy did. It was frustrating and irritating and infuriating – and inexplicably, irresistibly sexy. And to make matter worse, she really did look beautiful today.
“I’ll drive,” Stormy said, holding out her hand for the keys.
“I don’t think so. I’ll drive,” he retorted rather sharply as he tried to imagine Stormy behind the wheel of a car. Not an image he could reconcile. Not one he was comfortable with, either.
“But I love driving!” she cooed.
Marcus looked her up and down, trying to figure out how someone like her could possibly like driving. He pictured her more as a bicycle kind of girl.
“And I never get a chance to, since I don’t have a car,” she continued.
“You don’t have a car?” Marcus was shocked for a second or two before thinking… of course she doesn’t have a car. “So when last did you drive?”
“Um…” Stormy thought about this for a moment. “A few years ago, maybe.”
“And how do you get around?”
“I catch taxis.”
“Taxis? In South Africa? Are you crazy? Do you know how dangerous that is?” He didn’t know why, but he was suddenly overcome with great concern for her safety.
“They’re not that bad, I’ve only had my bag stolen once.”
“What! How can you keep catching taxis when your bag has been stolen? What next?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. He knew he was coming across as way too firm, but he couldn’t help it. His protective instincts had kicked into overdrive.
“Why are you so angry? It’s not like it was your bag.” It was obvious that Stormy was confused by his sudden outburst. Not that he blamed her – he was confused too.
Why was he so angry? Why had the image of Stormy in possible danger made him so mad? He couldn’t quite work it out, but then, there were a lot of things about his and Stormy’s ‘relationship’ that he couldn’t work out.
“I’m driving. End of story,” he insisted, pushing all other thoughts firmly out of his mind.
Marcus climbed into the car and turned on the ignition. The old car chugged to life with a puff of smoke from the exhaust pipe, a strange creek from the undercarriage and a loud humming sound from the bonnet.
“Great, let’s hope we get there in one piece.” He suddenly imagined them marooned on the side of the road with smoke pouring from this rusty tin can masquerading as a car.
Stormy patted the dashboard as she climbed into the passenger seat. “Don’t worry. I have faith in Sammy.”
“Sammy?”
“It’s her name.”
“You’ve named this hunk of junk Sammy?”
“Shhhh,” Stormy hissed at him. “Cars have feelings, too.”
Marcus turned and looked at Stormy mockingly. True to his new resolution not to argue with her, though, he simply raised a brow and sighed. “I’m going to refrain from pointing out how absolutely ridiculous that statement is.”
“Fine,” Stormy shrugged. “But if she breaks down, it will be all your fault because of all the negative vibrations you’re giving off.”
Stormy put her feet up on the dashboard. Her skirt slipped down, exposing a good portion of her thighs. Marcus had to force himself to tear his eyes away from her legs in order to concentrate again. She was driving his hormones crazy, but simultaneously irritating the hell out of him. He would never allow feet on a dashboard – but this was not his car, and at least her feet were cleaning off a thick layer of dust from the windscreen that was threatening to make him sneeze again.
Stormy plucked the flower out her hair and attached it to the car’s review mirror with a hair clip.
“What’s that for?” Marcus asked.
“Just brightening up Sammy.” She paused. “Yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say –”
“No, you don’t,” Marcus cut her off.
“Oh really?”
“I was going to say it looks nice.” His response surprised even himself.
Stormy turned and smiled at him, and something in him softened.
Oh God, what was happening?
Was he coming around to the “quirky Stormy charm”, as Damien had described it?
Her enthusiasm was contagious, he had to admit that.
Capital T. Trouble.
12
Be sure to wear some leaves in your hair
Stormy wiggled her toes together. They were dusty from the dashboard, but a bit of dust never killed anyone. It certainly didn’t bother her. But Marcus, on the other hand… She could imagine him as one of those people who disinfected everything. He probably used anti-bacterial soap and freaked out when his shoes got dirty or a splash of coffee landed on his table.
His house was probably the picture of order. Clean. Organized and perfect. He probably had scatter cushions, which in Stormy’s opinion were the most pointless things that had ever been invented. He probably had one of those vibrating chairs that massaged you too, and a flat screen TV the size of an island and all the other things that she disapproved of. He was by far one of the most uptight people she had ever met – but also one of the most contradictory, too.
The way he had – for lack of a better, less crude word – fucked her, was anything but clean, organized and orderly. It had been downright dirty. Vertical, horizontal and sometimes at an odd angle kind of dirty.
She caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye as he was fiddling with his new phone. Nothing irritated her more than phone-fiddling. These days, you couldn’t go out with friends without them sitting on their phones almost constantly instead of interacting with the people who were actually there in front of them. She’d just never understood it, this need that people had to exist in a cyber-computer world.
“What are you doing?” Stormy pointed at the glowing screen with disgust, as if it were some foreign creature – which to her, it was. She would never own a phone like that; where were the buttons, even?
“Just sending an email to someone at work,” Marcus replied distractedly, his fingers quickly gliding over the touch screen.
Stormy huffed loudly, unable to hide her contempt. “An email! Is that really necessary, Marcus?”
Marcus turned his head and met her eyes. He looked completely shocked and put out by her comment.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Look around, Marcus. We’re on holiday! We’re in a beautiful, exciting new country, and you’re being all business-y business-y and sending emails.”
“Business-y business-y?” he repeated.
“Yes!”
“Don’t you mean businesslike?”
“Whatever,” Stormy waved her hand dismissively. “The point is that you’re missing out on what’s in front of you in the real world, with your face buried in your phone like that. Plus you’ll get square eyes.”
“Isn’t that an old wives’ tale about watching TV?” He sounded irritated, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it. “Besides, what else am I supposed to do to keep busy? We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“You shouldn’t fiddle with a phone while driving,” Stormy scolded. “Besides, we could use the time to get to know each other. Have a real conversation. Use our mouths to make real spoken words with our vocal cords… or have you forgotten how that works?”
Stormy wasn’t sure her attempt at a joke had gone down well, because there was a sudden, long lull in the conversation. Maybe they had nothing to say when they weren’t at each other’s throats – or screaming out each other’s names, drenched in sweat.
“Why is it that whenever we try to have a normal conversation, we argue?” Stormy asked, finally breaking the silence.
“I don’t kno
w,” Marcus sighed, his tone much softer now, any signs of irritation gone.
“I never argue with people.” Stormy took her feet off the dashboard and turned in her seat so that she was facing him. “People usually like me. Well, most people.”
Marcus turned to look at her momentarily, and to Stormy’s utter amazement, he smiled at her. “I guess we’re just very different people, with very different ideas.”
Their eyes locked for a second before Marcus turned his attention back to the road, but it had been long enough for Stormy to feel a little tug in her gut. It was not like before, not that insatiable sexual attraction she normally felt around him, but something else entirely. She kind of wanted to rest her head on his shoulder… which was a ridiculous thought, of course.
Why would she want to rest her head on a guy like Marcus’s shoulder (his tight, knotted shoulder, she might add)?
Even her toes were ludicrous, Marcus noticed: each one was painted a different color, and not normal toe colors like red or pink. Where the hell did you even get green and blue nail polish from anyway? Hang on, this was not the first time he’d seen her toes; an image of them on his shoulders suddenly popped into his head. How had they gotten on his shoulders?
She was good in bed. Too good. Her technique suggested a lot of practice, which implied frequency and multiple partners. He shuddered at the thought and couldn’t help but wonder how many sexual partners she’d had, and when the last one was. The idea of her sleeping with someone else made him suddenly furious. He didn’t want her to sleep with anyone but him. But she wasn’t his; why was he even thinking like this?
The road ahead was long and fairly straight. His phone didn’t indicate that they would be driving past anything particularly significant. They would be going through the Tsavo West National Park, which was meant to be beautiful, but there was no time for stopping and admiring the view. He hoped Stormy understood that.
“If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some leaves in your hair.”