by Unknown
“Are you sure you can drive?” he asked nervously. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”
She smiled that heart-melting smile again. “Sammy and I have an understanding,” she said, as though he should be reassured by this. Which he wasn’t. Even though he felt like crap, he managed a little laugh.
“Just feel better,” she commanded, reaching out and putting her hand on his shoulder. It felt good. Really good.
He climbed into the back of the car and tried to make himself comfortable, though it was much too small to accommodate his large 6’3 build. Although he was mortified that he’d been sick in front of her, he was really touched by how caring she’d been. Emily would never have done that, but nothing seemed to phase Stormy. And she seemed to have this natural urge to take care of people – and dogs with three legs.
As they pulled onto the road again, Marcus tried really hard to relax, but soon realized that wouldn’t be possible – Stormy was officially the worst driver he’d ever met. The car was moving at about 20kms an hour (a snail could have moved faster, for pity’s sakes) and every time she changed gears, the car sounded like it was going to explode and lurched forward for a second.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” she would croon every time the car made a noise. “Easy girl, you’re doing great!” And then she would proceed to pat the dashboard encouragingly. Thankfully, after several very, very long and terrifying kilometers, he was starting to feel a lot better.
“Okay, stop the car,” he finally said, sitting up in the backseat.
“Why? Sammy and I are having so much fun together!” She looked at Marcus with a smile in the rear view mirror.
“Mmmm, how can I put this tactfully, Stormy… We’ll only get there next year if I let you carry on at this pace, and that’s assuming you don’t destroy the gearbox first.”
Stormy turned around and glared at him, and the car momentarily veered to the left.
“Hey! Watch the road!” Marcus yelled. “Ok. That’s it. Stop. Pull over.”
“Fine, big macho man. Drive the car then!” Stormy swung the steering wheel wildly and the car swerved onto the shoulder of the road. She climbed out in a huff and went back to the passenger seat.
Marcus resumed his spot in the driver’s seat and started the car up again. But he soon became acutely aware of the fact that Stormy was silently glaring at him with those piercing green eyes.
“What?” he asked, turning towards her.
“Just interested,” she replied simply.
“In what?”
“In you, Mr. Marcus Lewis, Aries.”
“What about me?” Marcus was feeling a little like he was under attack.
“You’re an interesting person. Under that big, hard, powerful, in-control, macho exterior lies a vulnerable little person who hates to appear so,” she informed him matter-of-factly.
“Oh God, are we really going to do this? This esoteric, touchy-feely crap?”
“It’s not esoteric, it’s factual. I mean, look at you – you would probably still insist on driving if both your arms were eaten off by wild, rabid lions.”
“Rabid lions?” Marcus was amused now. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“Stop trying to maneuver the conversation in a different angle.”
“Direction,” he corrected automatically again. “And I’m not, I’m just not comfortable talking about stuff like this. Personal stuff.”
“That’s because you have a blocked throat chakra. It makes it hard to express your emotions or speak your truth.”
“That has nothing to do with it.” Honestly, if Marcus had to hear the word “chakra” one more time that day, he might actually go mad. “I’m just not the kind of guy who’s going to air all my laundry in public, that’s all. It’s too personal.”
“Marcus,” Stormy tutted loudly. “We’ve had sex, really good sex, twice – what could be more personal than that?”
Marcus swallowed. He really didn’t need to be reminded of that, and certainly not how good it had been. His first instinct was to ask her “How good?” – and then show her that it could be even better (over and over again). But he resisted the urge.
“Fine! Then how about this, Stormy-Rain Rainbow Storm, Sagittarius: let me tell you something about yourself, since we are on the topic of exteriors not matching interiors.”
“Sure!” she agreed, sounding perky and upbeat, as if she actually enjoyed such conversations. She probably did.
“I think that if anyone in this car has a mask on, it’s you. A bright, crazy colorful one that hides someone else entirely inside.” Marcus flashed her a look. “That deep and touchy-feely enough for you?”
“Really?” She was starting to sound slightly tentative now.
“You’re already unique, you don’t need to over-advertise it with all that glittery, fluffy crap and crazy scarves. Your hair is growing on me, but you don’t need all that other stuff . I mean, do you have any idea how beautiful you are without all that…” Marcus bit his lip, cutting off the rest of his sentence.
He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But he had.
Stormy smiled. Beautiful, he’d said – he thought she was beautiful. Her heart was doing weird seesaw things in her chest. “You like my hair?” she asked, twirling it around her finger, not because she was agitated this time.
Marcus cast a sideways glance at her and shrugged. “No one else in the world could pull it of. But that scarf and sunflower dress… truth be told, I’m glad your bag is lost, if those clothes you were wearing are any indication of what else there is.”
“What?” Stormy screeched playfully and smacked him on the arm. “I can’t believe you don’t like Milly!”
“Who’s Milly?” he asked, bewildered.
“My scarf.”
Marcus shook his head and smiled to himself. “Of course you named your scarf. Why wouldn’t you? It makes perfect sense to name clothing.”
“Stop!” Stormy suddenly shouted, almost making Marcus jump out of his seat. “Giraffes! Look!”
Marcus looked in the direction that the finger, which was attached to a heavily bangled arm, was pointing. There were several giraffes standing just off the road.
“We must be driving past the game reserve,” Marcus said as he slowed the car down and pulled onto the side of the road.
“Can I take a super quickie look?” she pleaded. Marcus was surprised that she’d actually asked this time, and since he was starting to feel like he couldn’t say no to her, and that smile, he agreed. “Two minutes,” Stormy crossed her heart with her hand. “Cross my heart hope to die, stick a pin in my eye.”
“I haven’t heard that since I was about six,” Marcus said, hardly noticing her mistake – he was getting used to her creative use of idioms, not to mention that fact that she blatantly made up the most nonsensical words. He got out of the car and followed her to the fence separating them from the giraffes.
The giraffes were close. They were majestic animals, so strangely disproportionate and yet at the same time, perfectly designed. “I wish I’d brought my camera,” Stormy sighed longingly. She had an old camera that still shot on film. A friend of hers developed the pictures for her, since everyone was digital these days.
“You have a camera?” Marcus seemed shocked at the idea.
Stormy rolled her eyes at Marcus and he returned the look with a bemused shake of his head. She liked the way their arguing had transformed into playful teasing. She was starting to feel very comfortable with him.
“Here,” Marcus took out his phone and handed it to her. Stormy took it, feeling like she was handling a syringe infected with the plague. “I don’t know how to use these e-phones.”
“It’s an iPhone, but close enough,” he said, smiling.
Marcus moved in closer, and Stormy felt his shoulder touch hers as he stood next to h
er and held the phone out in front of them for the tutorial. Stormy took a slight – and very unnecessary – step closer to Marcus. She liked the feel of his shoulder next to hers.
“See, this is the camera. Hold it up, press this button,” he demonstrated by turning it on her, “and there. We have a photo.”
“And how do I see it?” Stormy asked, staring at the shiny contraption with no buttons – that had always mystified her. Buttons. You needed buttons, people.
“Like this.” Marcus showed her how to find the phone’s photo album and her picture popped up. “And you can scroll through them by doing this,” he said as he moved his finger across the screen and the next picture popped up.
Stormy felt like someone had poked her in the ribs. The screen was suddenly filled with the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She was the kind of woman who could literally stop traffic, with her long red locks and pouty lips. She had that whole 1950s bombshell thing going on – curvy and elegant. She was wearing a skintight red dress, showing off perhaps the biggest breasts that had even grown on a woman’s chest. Her waist was tiny, her hips rounded and her shapely legs were so damn long. She was looking into the camera seductively, there was no two ways about it. She had her hand up and her finger was beckoning the photographer closer. Her eyes were screaming bedroom words – dirty words. Filthy words. The photographer was Marcus, and this was one of those pictures that shouted “have sex with me now”.
“Uh… wh-who’s that?” Stormy stuttered a little. She hadn’t meant to.
“Um,” Marcus sounded tentative too, as if he hadn’t meant for her to see the picture. And why would he? It was a photograph taken seconds before hot sex, with a very hot woman. “Emily. My ex,” he explained.
“She’s very beautiful,” Stormy managed, but barely. She was too busy picturing this woman on top of him, her ridiculous boobs bobbing up and down. (Those things could probably take someone’s eye out if she wasn’t careful.)
“I guess she is,” Marcus muttered, and quickly flicked back to Stormy’s picture.
“So… how long have you been broken up?” Stormy couldn’t quite believe she actually cared so much and was venturing down this line of questioning.
“Two weeks.”
“So recently.” She didn’t like the way those words had sounded. They came out fast and desperate, sounding like someone who might be jealous. Which she was not!
No, definitely not jealous. Because that would just be ridiculous. That would mean she actually liked him in that way or something, which obviously she didn’t… Obviously.
Marcus was finding this conversation very awkward, especially given the nature of the photo – there was no misinterpreting it. No mistaking that look Emily had in her eye. He remembered exactly what had happened the second he put the phone down and walked towards her… At the time, he’d considered Emily to be one of the sexiest women he’d ever met, not to mention the best in bed (by far); but now, all that had changed.
“It was a long time coming, the break-up,” Marcus explained, trying to smooth things over. For some desperate reason, he didn’t want Stormy to think he was pining for someone else. “I’m totally over her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Stormy turned to face him. “Why would I be worried if you were over her?” She sounded indignant.
“Um…” Marcus was grappling for a reason. “Just in case you think I was, um…” He sighed, giving up. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“I mean, it’s not like that matters to me,” Stormy responded, shrugging. “It’s not like I care if you are in love with her and thinking about her and her big, big breasts in that red dress and stuff like that.” Marcus couldn’t help but think she was being a little overly-insistent. The lady doth protest too much…
“No. Of course. Because this isn’t a thing or anything.” Marcus had jumped on the defensive bandwagon along with Stormy.
“Exactly. This thing going on between us is just a –”
“It’s not even going on anymore,” Marcus added quickly.
“Exacto-mundo!” Stormy exclaimed.
“And it’s not like we’re into each other or anything,” he continued.
“Totes.”
“Yes.”
“It’s like, we had sex twice and now we’re road trip buddies,” Stormy offered, holding up her hand for a high-five. How ridiculous, he thought, but he obliged her with one. It felt so awkward and frat boy-ish. Without the boy element.
“Exactly.”
“Exactly.”
“So true.”
“True.”
“Yes. So, so totally true.”
“Totally…”
But the way they were looking at each other, and the way their words were getting softer and slower and more breathy, told a different story. Marcus was under no illusions – they were definitely trying to fool themselves. He wasn’t sure what on earth they were, but it wasn’t road trip buddies who gave each other friendly high-fives, that’s for sure.
Stormy cleared her throat, breaking the strange spell that had fallen over them. “What’s that thing that Lilly is always doing with her phone… where she holds the phone and takes a photo of herself… a selfie?”
Marcus was momentarily confused by the total change in the direction of the conversation, and it took him a few seconds to compute. “You want to take a selfie?”
“Yes, with the giraffes in the background!”
“Sure.” Marcus held the phone up and they moved closer together. As he pressed the button, Stormy smiled and put her head on his shoulder.
The giraffes behind them made a sudden noise, and Stormy turned to lean against the fence and investigate. Marcus looked at his phone and flicked through the pictures.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
He zoomed in on her face and stared at her features.
He flicked to the picture of Emily again and looked at her – looked at the woman that ninety percent of the men in the world would find hot. She did nothing for him anymore.
He flicked back to Stormy. Sweet, smiling Stormy…
Seriously beautiful.
T. T. T.
15
Ducks of a feather
Stormy didn’t like it one little bit. Not at all. Nada. Nooo-dle. She sat in the car, that woman’s face burned into her brain. Her red-headed seductiveness, her pouty-licious lips that begged to be nibbled on, her abundant bust reminiscent of large undulating hills, that Barbie Doll waist and blue-eyed glint. That was the worst part – those big, blue come-hither eyes. You knew what she wanted! And you knew what Marcus was about to give her. The thought repulsed her, even more than scatter cushions and flat screen televisions.
And the way she’d seen Marcus stare at the picture after they’d taken their selfie together, when he thought she’d been looking at the giraffes. Awe. He’d been gaping. Open-mouthed even. He was longing to paw her again – it was obvious. Stormy felt like he was cheating on her in some weird way. Last night he’d been hers, but he’d probably only been thinking of the red-headed temptress. She wanted to know so badly… But how could she broach the topic without sounding all jelly?
“So, shame… A break-up, hey?” Ambiguous. Pointed in the right direction, yet discreet and friendly sounding. Or not, judging by the look that had just swished across Marcus’s face.
“Huh?”
“Your ex, hey. Two weeks ago, huh? Harsh. Hectic. I mean, shame. Sorry dude.” That had sounded a bit too staccato for her liking. And she’d said ‘dude’! Maybe she wasn’t doing such a great job of hiding her feelings after all.
“Not really. It wasn’t working, for me anyway,” Marcus said, eying Stormy suspiciously. She had a feeling he was starting to see where the conversation was going, and she noticed a tiny smile on his face. Was he thinking of those perfectly rounded hips? Sto
rmy had always wanted a bit more meat on her bones, but alas, she could eat like a sailor and never put on weight.
“Why the sudden interest?” he asked.
“No reason. Just, you know, thinking out loud per say, etcetera, and so forth,” she replied in what she hoped was a vague, innocent tone.
“About what?”
“Nothing really! Just thought I would offer condolences.”
“She’s not dead,” Marcus smirked.
“No, but you look like you miss her.” Marcus slowed the car down and turned to look at Stormy properly.
“Why do you say that?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Just the way you were looking at her picture on your phone. You looked sad, like you love her but can’t have her, in that whole parting-is-such-sweet-sorrow-Romeo-and-Juliet-drinking-poison kind of way. That’s all.”
Marcus found himself in an interesting predicament. A part of him wanted to tell Stormy that he’d been looking at a picture of her, but how could he admit to that?
“You must have misinterpreted the look. I was actually thinking how angry I was with her,” he lied.
“No, I didn’t. I don’t misinterpret looks,” she insisted. “I’m a theatre actress, remember. I know looks, Marcus. I can see looks.”
“You were far away, standing by the fence,” he countered.
“I can read people like a page, Marcus.”
“Like a book.”
“Stop changing the subject. I can see it.” She was getting increasingly agitated, and for some reason, the thought that Stormy was jealous of Emily sent a little thrill up his spine.
“See what?”
“You’re longing for her.”
“I swear to you, I’m not.”
Stormy scoffed loudly. “Okay, fine. Pick a card.” She pulled a pack of Tarot cards out of her handbag. They looked old, worn and grubby – she obviously took them everywhere. “The cards never lie,” she said imperiously. “They will uncover the truth.”