by Unknown
Marcus turned as Stormy started singing.
“What are you doing?” he asked her warily.
“Singing! Join me?”
“No thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Firstly, do you know any songs that were written in this millennium? And secondly, it’s flowers, not leaves.”
Stormy paused and looked like she was taking this piece of information in. “Oh, that makes so much more sense. Thanks!” she smiled at him. That big, open, beautiful smile that was starting to get on his nerves – because it was getting under his skin.
“Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair,” she warbled again, “some flowers in your hair…”
He let her sing. They’d probably argue if he asked her to stop, which might lead to her being pinned under him on the back seat or bent over the bonnet… Oh God, he shouldn’t be picturing that. Unfortunately, the image had already crept into his mind…
Bonnet. Dress hiked up. Pinned. Hot.
Shit!
“Stop, stop!” Stormy suddenly said as they approached what looked like a roadside market of sorts.
“No time,” he replied firmly. They had left the airport much later than he would have liked them too already.
Stormy swiveled in her seat and glared at him angrily. “Marcus, I command you to stop!”
“We are going to be late. We can’t.”
“What difference will ten minutes make? Look at it. We should absorb the wonderful, colorful Kenyan culture while we’re here.”
Kenyan culture was the last thing he wanted to absorb right now, or any culture for that matter. They were on a schedule. They had a deadline. They needed to stick to it.
“I insist!” Stormy leaned over him and grabbed the steering wheel, threatening to steer the car herself. The problem was that when she did, the close proximity made his body instantly react. Stormy obviously felt it too. Marcus couldn’t help it; his fingers moved down, and involuntarily, he touched the back of her neck.
She let out a breathy whisper in response. “Marcus…”
His fingers moved down, tracing her exposed back, until…
“Fine, I’ll stop the car.” He skidded to a stop, pulled off his seatbelt and threw himself out of the car at the speed of light. He moved away quickly, leaving Stormy to stare after him.
He knew this road trip was a bad idea. There was no way that they were going to get all the way to Mombasa without something happening between them. It was so inevitable. The prospect both excited him, and scared the shit out of him.
He turned and looked at Stormy, who was still in the car, staring after him. She had a twinkle in her eyes – those big green doe eyes – and she was biting down on her bottom lip in a way that was making him crazy.
Yes, this was bound to happen again, sooner rather than later. Much, much sooner.
13
Bring home the bacon and sarongs
The market assaulted every one of Stormy’s senses. For starters, it was boiling hot outside, and the air felt sticky and thick. Makeshift stalls had been set up along narrow, dusty paths and were selling everything from fresh exotic fruit and pungent fish, to huge bags of brightly-colored spices and intricate beaded jewellery. There were just so many sights to take in; there was something new and interesting around every corner. Intense smells filled the air – the sweet perfume of ripening fruit, the deep exotic scent of spices and the hearty aroma of corncobs cooking on fires. The biggest bunches of bananas that Stormy had ever seen lined the dusty walkways, alongside bright orange mangoes and rows upon rows of handmade brown leather sandals.
But what really caught her eye were the rows of brightly-colored fabrics that were blowing in the breeze, as well as the brightly-dyed straw handbags. All were completely ethnic, printed and decorated with the most beautiful traditional imagery. It was culturally different from the African imagery that she was used to in South Africa – this was unique to Kenya.
One of the local vendors offered Stormy a slice of juicy mango, which she took enthusiastically. But Marcus practically jumped on her from a few meters away and pulled her back by the arm.
“Hey!” he whispered urgently in her ear. “You can’t eat food given to you by complete strangers on the side of the road!”
“Of course you can,” she responded, popping it into her mouth.
Marcus grabbed the mango out from between her lips. “They probably wash it in unsanitary water. You don’t know what germs you’ll catch.”
Stormy burst out laughing. “Oh Marcus, Marcus. You worry too much!” And with that, she swiped the mango back from him and ate it. It was so sweet and succulent that some of the juice escaped her lips and run down her chin; she wiped it away with the back of her hand.
“That is amaze-zees. We have to buy some.”
“I am not buying street food,” he said adamantly.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Marcus looked hesitant as he thought for a moment. “I am, but not for anything bought from here. I have some protein bars in the car.”
“Protein bars!” Stormy scoffed loudly. Who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing? “You call that food?”
“They’re perfectly nutritious,” Marcus insisted.
“Whatever,” Stormy shrugged and walked off, sampling some other local fruits that the vendors were only too happy to give her as she wandered through the stalls. Stormy came across a stall selling the most incredible looking and smelling vegetable kebabs. Her mouth watered as she watched the vendor take them straight off the fire, slightly charred.
“Very nice,” the vendor, an older woman in a bright purple headscarf, said as she held one out to Stormy.
“It looks amazing, but I don’t have any money,” Stormy said apologetically.
The woman smiled and pointed to one of Stormy’s bracelets, a funky plastic thing that she had picked up in a charity store.
“You’ll exchange?” Stormy’s face lit up.
The woman nodded and Stormy quickly pulled off her bracelet. She walked off eating the kebab; it was delicious, and there was some kind of spicy sauce on it that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But again, the hygiene police pounced.
“Are you crazy? Stop eating stuff here,” Marcus hissed in her ear, suddenly appearing at her side out of nowhere.
Stormy eyeballed Marcus incredulously. “These are veggies, probably better than the ones we get at home, plucked fresh from someone’s truly organic veggie garden, watered by loving African rains and fertilized by falling leaves. Try it.”
“I’m not trying it.”
“I dare you.”
Stormy shot him a challenging look, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to refuse. Marcus was definitely the kind of guy that didn’t back down from a challenge, ultra super duper competitive as he was. Sure enough, something changed in his expression, and he pulled the kebab away and took a bite.
“Satisfied?” he asked, not looking particularly thrilled as he forced it down.
Stormy nodded and smiled. Maybe she could loosen him up a little, prove to be a good influence on Mr. Uptight and In Control.
They had already been walking around the market for ten minutes, a fact Marcus made sure to tell her by tapping on his big, shiny watch. She sighed loudly, but started walking back to the car. She had said ten minutes, after all – fair’s fair. But on the way out, she couldn’t help stopping at the fabrics stall to try one on. It was one of the prettiest things she’d ever seen: a bright, lime green color, with what looked like hand-dyed darker green flowers printed on it. There was a delicate blue stitch around the border, as well as bold purple stripes. It was a sarong, but Stormy wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl. The woman tending the stall indicated through gestures that the colors suited Stormy’s hair.
“Buy it?” she asked.
; Stormy shook her head. “I would love to, but I have no money.”
Marcus walked up behind her. “How much?” he asked the woman, reaching into his wallet.
Stormy swung around and took the sarong off quickly. “No. I don’t want you to buy it for me. You’ve already bought me clothes, I couldn’t…”
“Don’t be silly, Stormy.”
“No,” she shook her head emphatically.
“But I want to,” he said with a look in his eye that Stormy was completely unfamiliar with. It was that whole, I’m a man let me provide for you and bring home the bacon and sarongs, type of look.
“Okay. What about an exchange?” she asked.
Marcus eyed her up and down. “Um… I don’t think you have anything I want.” Stormy couldn’t help but notice his guilty expression as he quickly looked away, though, and realized that he wasn’t quite being truthful. But that wasn’t the kind of exchange she’d had in mind.
“How about I give you a Reiki crystal healing session, get those chakras unblocked?”
Marcus shook his head. “Absolutely not. There will be no massaging happening, Stormy. You know how that would end.”
Stormy rolled her eyes at him. “There’s no touching involved. I’m just going to put some crystals on your throat and draw out some negative energy, that’s all.”
Marcus eyed her suspiciously. “Is that the only way you’ll let me get it for you?”
“Yes. I don’t want your charity.”
“It’s not charity –” he tried to argue.
She held her hand up to stop anything else coming out of his mouth. “Reiki healing vibes, or no deal.”
“Fine,” Marcus sighed, pulling the money out of his wallet and handing it over to the vendor.
Stormy turned and extended her hand. “Deal. Let’s shake on it. A business transaction.”
Marcus shook her hand, dropping it quickly when they were done. And then she skipped off to the car happily, watching as the bright fabric billowed out behind her.
She was like an excitable puppy with a squeaky toy. Marcus had never seen anything like it. She flounced around from one stall to the next; everyone who saw her smiled and made conversation. She had even kicked a ball back (very badly) to a few kids that were playing a game of soccer and scratched the head of a stray three-legged dog – which Marcus hadn’t thought was a terribly good idea. She was like a breathe of fresh air; but there was that other side of her, too, that side that was less innocent puppy and more sexual she-wolf. When the mango juice had trickled down her chin, he’d actually had to fight the urge to lick it off, despite his misgivings about rancid water and exotic germs.
And when he’d seen her wearing the shawl, he’d been overcome with the desire to buy it for her. In fact, he would have bought her the whole damn stall if she’d asked. When he thought about what she had – or didn’t have – like a car and money and new clothes, he wanted to make that all right. Although it wasn’t his job at all, or his right even. But still, he didn’t like the idea of her taking taxis and shopping at charity stores, where a person could have died in the dress she was buying.
Fuck, if she’d asked him to buy the whole market for her, he would have. He had the money, and no one to spend it on. But she was proud and stubborn, and now he was going to be inflicted with some weird, hippie crystal ritual. He’d definitely try and wiggle his way out of that.
They finally climbed into the car and got back on the road. He hoped there wouldn’t be too many of these impromptu stops, because it would make them seriously late. She put her rainbow toes back onto the dashboard and her skirt slipped down her thighs again; thankfully, she laid her new sarong over them.
But something was niggling at him. “Do you often exchange services for things?” Marcus asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yup, all the time.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I needed to have a pair of shoes repaired the other day, and I gave the man a neck massage – he had a knot that was giving him trouble.”
A bolt of discomfort shot through him. “So you often give massages?”
“Not always, sometimes I’ll do a Tarot reading.”
“But you do give massages sometimes?” Marcus was harping, he knew he was, but he couldn’t get that image out his head.
Stormy caught on to what he was thinking. “If you are trying to imply what you’re trying to imply then your implications are way off what is implied,” she said indignantly.
“Huh?” Marcus hadn’t understood a word of that.
“The guy who fixed my shoes, Luigi, is about a hundred years old. He was having headaches, and I wanted to help him. We exchanged services – simple. I often do it.”
Marcus still didn’t like it one bit. He wondered how many men bartered with her just to get a back rub. No, he didn’t like it one little bit.
“There is nothing sexual about it!” Stormy added. “You’ll see tonight when I work my magic on your chakras.” She smiled at him innocently before putting her head back and closing her eyes.
It was boiling hot and extremely unpleasant in the car without aircon. Marcus rolled the window down and let the wind rush in. He hoped it wouldn’t disturb her – she’d clearly fallen asleep. He glancedover and noticed that a strand of her hair was blowing around in the breeze. He reached over and gently tucked it behind her ear so that it wouldn’t wake her. He let his fingers linger too long on her cheek.
She stirred ever so slightly and as he was about to take his hand away, when she grabbed it and held it next to her face. Still asleep, she tucked their hands together on her shoulder and rested her head on them. She obviously had a bad habit of cuddling when she was asleep.
Marcus left his hand there; it felt good to be so close to her, even in a non-sexual way. He could easily steer with one hand. Suddenly, the irritation and worry he’d been feeling a few minutes ago seemed to evaporate, and he found himself smiling softly as he fixed his eyes on the road ahead.
14
You want to take a selfie?
Stormy woke up suddenly and realized that Marcus was no longer in the car. They were parked on the side of the road and the driver’s door was wide open. A bolt of panic gripped her and she shot up. Where was he?
Alien abduction? That was very plausible; it often happened on long, deserted roads like this. But then again, it was daytime, and most abductions happened at night.
Spontaneous combustion? She checked the seat, but there was no ash.
De-atomization? Possible, not likely though, not with our current technology, anyway. Although she did have it on good authority that they were currently experimenting with that technology in Area 53 in Nebraska.
She was just about to consider vaporization when….
She saw him standing on the side of the road a little way back. Aaahhh, nature was obviously calling. She was about to look away when she saw him bend forward and hold his head. Something was wrong. She jumped out the car and ran over.
“Marcus, are you okay?”
He waved his hand for her to get back. “Fine. Fine,” he sort of shouted-mumbled-choked.
“No you’re not. I can see something is wrong.”
He waved his hand some more as she edged forward. “I just feel a bit nauseous. It’s probably from that kebab you forced me to eat.”
Stormy actually laughed out loud. “Nonsense!”
“You can’t eat stuff off the side of the road. I told you. Look what happens!”
Stormy shook her head dismissively. “It’s psychosomatic, Marcus. I’m totally fine. There was nothing wrong with –” Marcus turned around and looked at her. He was positively green; his brow was furrowed and his lips clamped together as he fought off the obvious urge to gag.
“Oh God! You really are sick.”
Marcus gave a faint nod. “Ju
st get back into the car, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
She approached him and his hand started flapping at her again. Clearly, he was the type of guy who didn’t want anyoneseeing him when he was sick and vulnerable – typical. But as she approached he threw up, and the arm waving became even more violent as he tried to shoo her away. Jolted by a stab of sympathy, Stormy ran up to him and rubbed his back.
“Stormy, seriously, leave me, I’ll be fine,” he choked.
“Marcus will you stop being such a macho…” She put on a mocking, exaggerated manly voice. “I’m a manly man and don’t get sick or show weakness and wrestle bulls to the ground with my hands tied behind my back kind of guy.”
He ignored her jibe, wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and swigged down some water. She rubbed his back in large circles. “Do you know how many friends’ hair I’ve held back when they’ve had too much to drink in a club?” she tried to reassure him.
“I don’t really want to know that right now,” Marcus bleated.
“I’m just saying… that’s what we girls do for each other. It’s no big deal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Marcus finally stood up and straightened out. He looked way less green but still a bit sick. Stormy reached out and laid her hand across his forehead to see if he had a temperature. He felt clammy.
“It’s a good thing you’ve thrown up, actually – you got whatever was bugging you out of your system,” Stormy added, feeling a massive swell of empathy for Marcus in that moment.
“Stormy, can we not talk about this, please?”
“Okay,” Stormy smiled as Marcus walked off to the car again and climbed into the driver’s seat. She eyed him worriedly; he didn’t look well enough to drive.
“Why don’t you lie down in the back for a while and I’ll drive?” she offered.
Marcus hated this. He hated showing weakness of any kind and he hated not being in control and letting someone else take over. But he was feeling too sick to drive, and it would probably be irresponsible to do so in his current state.