A Toast to Starry Nights | TWENTY-TWO
My head hurt. Shoulder too. Something on my face, can't see. Can't move. What happened? Oh yeah, car hit me. Did I die? No... I wouldn't be thinking and hurting if I were dead.
God, it's hot. I'm so hot and fuzzy-headed. Tried stifling a moan, failed at that.
Then the scariest sound that could haunt my ears made a grand appearance.
“Hello, Beautiful. Glad you are awake.”
I gulped as the fuzziness evaporated and the owner of that voice sank into my mind. The sound from his mouth was enough to make me cringe.
Mike.
He removed a blindfold made of a folded tee shirt, so I could see my surroundings and his smirking face. I lay in a tent atop a cot and wrapped in a sleeping bag. I couldn't move because duct tape wound around the cot and the sleeping bag pinned me down. A battery-operated lantern hung from the tent's center cross-beam to provide illumination.
Oh my fucking God, I am his prisoner.
Mike leaned towards me, cotton ball in hand. He used the cotton to wipe at my cheek. When he pulled away, I could see blood soaking the ball and that he sat on an upended wood round, about a foot and a half high.
I didn't want to talk to him, but I needed questions answered. “Why am I here?” Last thing I recall is talking to Jet. How did I end up here with Mike?
After putting a band-aid on my cheek, Mike sat up straight and spoke. “I was behind the big rig. Left the races early. Saw the accident. Your Jeep spun around and was smoking under the hood. I pulled you out before flames got you. By now your car is charred steel. I stopped to help whomever, but saw it was you. Brought you to my deluxe accommodations so we could talk.”
“I'm hurt.” I hurt all over, and my heart pounded with fear of the unknown. I'm trapped, I'm trapped, how do I escape?
“Yeah, you took a banging in that accident.”
“Take me to the hospital in town.”
“Nope. Can't take you down the mountain tonight.”
“Why? I need medical attention, Mike. Please take me to a hospital. We can't talk if I die from internal injuries.” My heartbeat quickened. I needed to get back to the valley floor, back home and back to Dmitri.
“You aren't going to die, Kay bay-bay.”
“Don't call me that.”
“This is how I know you won't die. You wouldn't give a shit what I called you if you were seriously injured. I'll call you what I want because I can. You are in no position of power here. Your boyfriend can't help you and Jet isn't here to bark at me, either. Just you and me, like in the old days. See? Away from them and you talk to me.”
What was it he wanted to talk about? How my support net wasn't here? I tried not shivering from the thought of being alone with my skuzz bucket ex abuser.
As soon as I closed my eyes to block the view of Mike in jean shorts and a green tee shirt staring at me, he spoke. “What did I do to make you hate me so much you won't even talk to me? You loved me once.”
My eyes flew open and before I could shut my mouth, I hissed, “You need to ask?”
Mike sat back a bit. “I'm sorry I hit you. I was upset with shit. Wasn't ready to be someone's daddy. Especially when the woman I loved left me beforehand with no explanation.”
Oh, that's why you socked me? Doesn't excuse you for hitting anyone, let alone a pregnant woman. “That's not the only reason I hate your guts, Mike. That's like saying it was only the tippy-top of the iceberg which doomed the Titanic, forgetting the poor quality rivets and lack of lifeboats.”
“What, you still mad about the foursome?”
Mad? No. Mad is soo five years ago. Now I'm bewildered and confused as to why he's sitting in a tent two hundred miles from his home. I'm also incredulous that he would assume forgiveness would be forthcoming. “That's a part of it. It wasn't a foursome, Mike. It was rape. I hate you because you are you. That's why. And this,” I looked around the tent as best I could, “doesn't really help your case.”
“I wanted to make sure you wouldn't bolt on me before I had my say.”
Does that mean after he speaks his piece, I can go home? Dmitri must be frantic by now if Jet called him right after the accident. Fuck, she probably heard the grinding metal from impact. I need to let Dmitri know I'm alive. What could Mike possibly have to say to me? “We aren't talking until I'm free,”
Mike smiled down at me. “Don't be making demands you can't back up, Bay Bay.” He stood for a moment and retrieved a canvas backpack from the tent's corner closest to my head. From somewhere deep inside the satchel, he reached in and pulled something out, all the while smiling. It was his 'I'm about to be an asshole' smile. “You and I are going to have a powwow.” He put whatever it was he took from the backpack into his pocket.
“Thought powwow meant we were equals agreeing to be non-hostile.” Three thousand wild horses wanted to drag me over the cliff's edge to the Land of Insanity. I wanted to freak out, scream, cry and hit things. Frustration and fear. Especially fear. Deep breath, and I reigned in those crazy ponies as best I could.
“I'm not the one being hostile. You're the one making demands.” Mike's voice accused me of such horrible misdeeds.
“I won't run.” I don't think I could run if I wanted. My knee throbbed in a way it hadn't since I was fifteen and got hit by a car when riding a bike.
It took every fiber of my being not fall into pieces. Sore everywhere, I tried to focus on one achievement at a time. First needed to get out of the sleeping bag, then away from Mike. Baby steps to my goals.
“Not many places you can run to where we are, Kay. Just you and me up in these woods.”
No, that didn't sound at all like a serial killer's placating words to a soon-to-be victim, did it? “Please let me go, Mike. I don't want to wet your sleeping bag because I can only hold my bladder so long.”
A look of surprise lit his rounded face. “Oh. Yeah, I don't want you pissing in my sleeping bag either. Not unless you want to give me a golden shower.” Cheesy grin with yellowed teeth.
Um, no thanks. Way no thanks.
“I really have to pee, Mike.” My bladder felt full almost to the bursting point and gave me a valid excuse to wheedle him for my freedom. I wanted out of the sleeping bag that reeked of Mike.
He reached into his backpack again, this time pulling out a folded knife. With a flick of his wrist, the blade emerged from the handle and locked into place. Mike bent down to the cot and with deft moments, cut the tape along the zippered seam. After folding the knife and putting it in his pocket, Mike then unzipped the heavy sleeping bag. My skin tingled with the sensation of cold air making its acquaintance. Like jumping into a cool stream on a hot August day. Felt so good.
I tried moving my legs from the sleeping bag and groaned. In the lantern light, I could see scrapes and scratches running the length below my cut-offs as my limbs emerged from the down-stuffed bag. “Is there an outhouse around?” Outhouses in National Forests get checked on by the Forest Service. Means we're not too far from a main road.
“No. You'll have to squat behind a tree. I do have toilet paper, though.”
Mike gave me a helping hand so I could stand up. Lightheaded and wobbly, oh how it hurt to maneuver upright. As soon as I was erect, he unzipped the tent's door and led me outside. Full moon tonight, and the woods were lit up fairly well. Didn't need a flashlight to see the landscape. We were on a patch of flat ground surrounded by conifer-clad hillsides. Mike led me around to a semi-circular stand of Lodge Pine trees. With a pointing finger, he showed me where the outdoor toilet resided, a roll of toilet paper hung as a white flag from a dead branch.
I limped to the toilet paper, mindful of where I stepped. “You don't need to watch, Mike.”
“I want to make sure you aren't going to run off.”
My bladder, nearly to the rupturing point, won the argument. “At least turn around.”
Mike did so, saying, “You weren't always this shy, Kay bay-bay.”
Tried concentrating on peeing, but it hurt to squat. “I wasn't always this kidnapped, Mike.”
Took an opportunity to check for the cellphone in my bra. Still there. I didn't want to get Mike's attention, so I didn't take it out. Didn't need him destroying my only means of communication with the outside world yet. GPS locating is an option. If Jet or Dmitri reported me as missing, at least the police could track my cell's location. A very reassuring thought. I don't know how much Jet heard of the impact, but when removed from the Bluetooth radius emitting from the receiver on my Jeep's visor, there'd be silence on her end.
“Better hurry up, bay-bay. There's been helicopters flying at night around here, you don't want pack of spooked coyotes biting your ass.”
It hurt to pee with my bladder so full. Being tense about the situation didn't help. I needed a distraction. “Why are you up here? Thought you viewed camping as voluntary homelessness.”
“On the job, Kay. Gotta stay up here and protect my boss' property.”
“We're in a national forest... there's nothing up here you'd want to protect, being the city-boy you are.” Finally, bladder relief.
Mike reached into his pocket, then put whatever it was up to his lips. A flick of a lighter later and the acrid scent of burning cannabis assaulted my nose.
“Please don't smoke that shit around me, Mike.”
“Powwow, Kay. This is my Peace Pipe.”
I sighed. “Do you have any sort of hand wipes or soap and water?”
“Why?” Mike turned around and got an eyeful of me squatting amidst ferns.
“I'd like to wash my hands. You know, personal hygiene.”
“Follow me.”
After finishing and hitching my britches up, I followed Mike to a small creek with fast running water. “Here.” He tossed a small bar of soap my way. It seemed to glow in the moonlight.
My knees hurt as I knelt to wash my hands. The water, icy cold.
Mike took another puff off his pipe and held it out for me as I stood back up. “Peace Pipe, Kaylis.” He blew smoke into my face.
“No thanks. I won't run, I won't argue and I won't smoke weed with you, Mike. You should know better.”
“I don't have any aspirin, Kay. If you're hurting, this will help, promise.”
“I'm fine.” I lied and he knew it. My gimpy limping a dead giveaway.
“Suit yourself, more for me.” Another puff and exhale in my general direction.
Mike guided me past a camp kitchen with a propane stove and mini grill. A five-gallon bucket held a pot and cast iron fry pan. Hung from a nail in a tree trunk, a black trash bag. It looked like camp had been here a while.
In a mock-chivalrous gesture, Mike held the tent door open for me. As I stepped inside, I could see hidden among shadows, a large rifle underneath the cot. Not a hunting rifle, like Grampa's 30.06, but something that looked like a paramilitary member would have for shits and giggles, banana clip and all. I swallowed, unnerved by the presence of such armament. I grew up around guns, helping Grampa clean his collection. Dmitri even took me out to the firing range and let me empty the clip in his Glock a couple times. I'm not shy about firearms. But with Mike, the scenario did not improve. Why would he need such a gun? There are no elephants running around the Mendocino National Forest, I'm pretty certain about that. I sat on the cot, acting as though I didn't see the weapon.
Must get home.
Now.
“I would like to know when I can go home.” Irked, I tried to be civil. Nothing to be gained by pissing him off. Hard to contain my anger, though.
“When I'm done talking. I've got a couple years worth of questions for you.”
I sighed. “After I answer, you take me home. People will be looking for me. You don't want a kidnapping charge over your head.”
“I'll take you home when we are done.” His answer did not comfort me. Almost evasive. I wanted to hear, yes, I will take you home when we finish talking.... his usage of 'done' veered toward the vague. And he didn't deny kidnapping. Sigh.
“Then please, by all means, start the Inquisition. I would prefer to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
“It's not your own bed. You share it.”
Ah, the crux of the matter. “Yes, with a man who isn't you. Now you don't have to worry about making my body disappear, and I don't have to worry about you smothering me in my sleep. Works out for everyone, doesn't it?” Pain brings out my bitchy side and what do ya know? I'm sore all over.
“That almost hurt, Kaylis.”
“Sorry, wasn't looking to open old wounds tonight.” In addition to crashing my ride after getting in a fight with Dmitri, this night was turning out just spiffy. If I could take my angry words spat at Dmitri away, erase that burst of temper so I never got in that wreck, I would. A thousand times, I would. Him having coffee with Lorryn definitely preferable to me being stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no one but a heavily armed sleazebag as my tour guide to Hell.
Mike leaned back in his seat, quirked his head to the side and asked softly, “Was I really that bad to you?”
“Yeah. Yeah you were. Besides the rape you encouraged, the depression resulting and you telling me to kill myself. Yeah, you were that shitty. Then you add injury to insult by hitting me so I miscarry. You are what happens when a woman has no self-esteem and does not want to be alone.”
“Ouch. I just wanted to renew our friendship, Kay bay-bay. I miss you being friendly with me, and since I'm stuck up here, all alone...”
“I cannot do that, Mike. Not in a million years. The candle I carried for you burned out a long time ago.” And is not missed in the slightest. That candle is no match for Dmitri's flood light.
“I wanted you to be the mother of my children... just not right then.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but that's not an option. I felt you had a right to know, being that it was half your genetic material. But you gave up that right, and any rights to my life when you did what you did. I've moved on from you, Mike. A long time ago.”
“You don't have to marry that guy. I proposed to you first, loved you first. I want what's mine.”
“I am not yours. And I want to marry him. I'd bake him cookies while wearing a frilly dress, lacy apron and high heels, if he asked. I'd even do my hair like June Cleaver. There is nothing more I want right now than to be his wife.”
I would happily have a huge white wedding right bloody now if it meant I was safe at home with Dmitri. Traditional gown and all. With all things considered, the anxiety about weddings faded in a heartbeat when compared to true danger. A poofy white dress wouldn't strangle me. Mike... well, I couldn't rule out his hands not wrapping around my neck. The man scared me with his unpredictability. “You were also the first to fuck up royally to the point the woman you claimed to love no longer wants to be around you. That should be an indication of where you stand with me.”
“You once believed we were soulmates.” Soft and plaintive, Mike tried appealing to a side of me that no longer existed for him. If only he would give up the ghost and drop me off on my doorstep.
“I was young and ignorant. Now I've grown up and moved on. I suggest you do the same, Mike. Please take me home now.”
He arose from his seat and sat next to me. Hairs on my arms and nape stood on end. Hated Michael in such close proximity to me.
He trailed his fingertips up my arm then brushed his knuckles against my shoulder in a mega-creepster move.
“Don't touch me, Mike. You do not have permission to touch me. At all.”
“You liked my touch before.” The bastard swiftly bent down and kissed by my ear.
“Again, young and ignorant. And that touch of yours you think is golden lost its charm a long time ago.” I jerked my arm away from him.
Mike's voice lowered and he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked. “I could do whatever I wanted, Kay bay-bay... and you can't do shit about it.”
I will not be passive like I once was. I will not tolerate this son of a bitch touching me ever again.
I am not Ona, adrift on the eddies of life.
I am beyond enraged.
Bright-white heat of a thousand stars going supernova fueled my rage. How dare he put hands on me? How dare he not wait for the paramedics when he pulled me from the wreckage? Hell, the track has its own EMT truck... no excuse whatsoever for him to haul me all the way up to the middle of nowhere. Never so angry in my life and it was all directed at the son of a bitch who saved my life only to toy with me. If I failed to act, he'd rape me. I'm sure of it. Getting all hands on and creepy needs to end now.
“You will remove your fucking hands from my body. You will take me home, right goddamn now. Think I'm scared of you?” This fucker was no where as scary as the figment of my imagination, Landross. My voice rose with anger. “You are unwelcome in my life. There! I didn't have the balls to say it before I walked out on you, but I'll tell you right fucking now to your repulsive mug that you have no part in my life. End of conversation. Now take me home.”
Mike looked at me dumbfounded and bemused. His grip on my hair slackened. “Didn't know you had a backbone in you, Kay bay-bay. It's kinda hot.” He resumed the touching, trailing his fingers up my shoulder to my neck. “I'll touch you because I can. Who's going to stop me? Won't be you, sweetums.”
I hit him in the goddamned nose with the flat of my palm. Not the smartest thing I've done lately, but it felt good. Mike cupped his injured nose. Then he backhanded me.
“Bitch!”
“Don't fucking touch me, Michael. Never again will you touch me. Thank you for getting me out of my car, but that does not permit you to act like a piece of shit as a reward.” Focus. Maybe Dmitri has reported me missing and the police are tracking my cell signal. Happy thoughts. I need my happy thoughts.
Mike grabbed me by the hair again, this time twisting it so my face looked up into his. Like a snake, his voice slithered into my ear. “Don't be making demands, Kay. You don't like me when I'm angry.”
“I don't like you in general.” Fire burned in my voice.
Mike slapped me then let go of my hair. I didn't care about him hitting me – I'd rather him get punch happy than sexual with my person. What truly pissed me off was that he refused to take me home.
I will be no one's prisoner.
Faked socking him in his groin so his hands would go low to block, then I used my other fist to hit him hard as I could in the nose again when his defenses lowered. The sight of blood from where my engagement ring broke skin emboldened me.
I stumbled to my feet and growled, “You should have taken me to the doctor, because I will make your life a living hell.” If need be, I'll go for that gun and defend myself by any means necessary. He will have no power over me.
The words barely died from my lips when lights outside shined our way to flood the tent. A stern voice called out, “Come out with your hands up or I will send the dog. You will be bit!”
“Fuck!” Mike muttered. “Fuck this shit.” Mike stood up, whirled me around so I stood in front of him, his arm tight around my neck.
My name is Kaylis Prudence Woods, and I am a human shield.
His voice hissed in my ear, “They shoot me, they shoot you.”
“What did you do besides kidnap me?” Worry ate through my being. What, did Mike have an ex or two buried in these hills?
“Protecting my boss' property. Told you.”
Mere seconds had passed since Mike and I were ordered from the tent. Whomever lurked outside, waited with short patience. “Department of Fish and Game. Out now!”
My heart thundered in my ears and anxiety the likes of which I never experienced covered me from head to toe. I did not want to take a dog attack for Mike. Fuck that. I would do what I could to throw a wrench in the works. Law Enforcement would be on my side, just need to let them know what was up.
“Help me!” I yelled to the best of my ability, Mike's arm tightened around my throat as my lips moved, cutting off my air flow.
He tightened his grip a moment longer before turning me around and slapped me hard in the face before making me his shield again. “Fuckin' bitch!”
My elbows flailed to make contact with his gut, and I stomped as hard as I could on his instep. Mike bent a bit in reaction and I got a lungful of air. “I'm his hostage! He has an assault gun under the cot in here!” I could taste coppery blood from the cut on my lip. Fell to my knees in a position of submission. There would be no mistaking who was assaulting who.
My decree brought forth armed and masked men in pixelated camouflage, rifles drawn and headlamps burning bright. Three men crowded into the tent with Mike and I. As soon as the men appeared, one gave me a hand up and took me by the arm, led me outside.
“Who are you?” Bright light shone into my eyes, obscuring the face of my interrogator.
“Kaylis Woods. I was in a car accident by Lightening Mountain, and he,” I pointed at Mike, now handcuffed and glaring at me, “pulled me from my car and brought me up here. He refused to take me home or to Glenn General Hospital.” I shook like a leaf in the wind. My heart must have been beating faster than the pistons in the engines of Lightening Mountain's race cars.
“What type of car were you driving?”
“A '98 Jeep Grand Cherokee.”
Another man in camo came and stood next to me. “What in the name of God are you doing here, Kaylis?”
Wiley and his SWAT season.
“Do you have cell or satellite reception here? Call Dmitri right now, Wiley. He doesn't know where I am and that I'm okay. Please, please, right now.” I begged. If Dmitri and I had switched roles, I'd be bugging out with worry.
“You don't look okay. You need medical attention.”
I put my hands on Wiley's arm and looked up into his lean face smeared with camouflage makeup. “I'll be fine. I just need Dmitri to know I'm okay. He's got to be worried sick about me by now.”
Wiley looked over his shoulder and called to another one of the wardens, “You got this?”
“Copy.”
Wiley lent me his arm and guided me down to where the Game Wardens parked. “Tell me everything.”
And boy, did I ever. From the fight with Dmitri to the point of impacting vehicles and then waking up bound in a sleeping bag. When I finished, Wiley asked if I wanted to press charges.
“At the least, he's looking at kidnapping, assault and battery. It's up to you whether charges are pressed. That, in addition to charges from the state for illegal cultivation and possession of contraband firearm.”
Didn't take long for me to make up my mind. “Yes, I want to press charges. It's better than a restraining order.” Fucker brought me up to a pot grow. Fan-fucking-tabulous. Hell yes, press charges and I hope the judge substitutes a brick when he throws the book at Mike.
With half a smile, Wiley said, “I'll need you to write a statement.” From inside the truck cab he found paper, a clipboard and pen.
As I wrote down everything I just told Wiley, I heard him get on his phone. “Hey, Dude... yeah, I know. Calm down. She's here. I have her right here and she's safe. A little dinged up but otherwise fine.”
And I was. The adrenaline rush from standing up to Mike, something I couldn't comprehend ever doing before, intensely pulsated through my body, pushing away my body aches.
I didn't run, I didn't hide, I didn't cower. I asserted myself. A first with Mike. God, I wish I had stood up to him long before. Better late than never. Although had the wardens not come, I can't say what would have happened.
“I'm going to take her to Glenn Gen to be checked out... yeah, she's got some scrapes and cuts, nothing major I can see. Yeah. Can do. Here she is.” Wiley held the phone toward me and I snatched it up.
“Dmitri? I'm so sorry.” With all that transpired since I last saw him, emotions bubbled to the overflow point and slipped down my cheek in relief of talking to him again. “Me getting pissed was stupid and I'm sorry.” Tears burned my eyes. I almost lost him. In a fit of anger, I set myself up for stupidity. I didn't have to like his decision to see Lorryn, but I didn't need to stomp out like a bitch about it, either.
Dmitri's voice filled my mind as he spoke. “Jesus, sweetheart, don't apologize. I'll meet you at the hospital with your mom. Jet too. She was freaking out and called me when your phone cut out after the crash. She heard everything. She said she heard Mike's voice.”
“She did. He pulled me from the Jeep. Said it caught on fire.”
“I know you loved that car, but it's totaled. No one noticed the accident because of the races for a couple minutes, but then the gas tank exploded. Got everyone's attention then.” Dmitri's voice grew husky, troubled. “As soon as Jet called me, I drove up to the race track and saw your Jeep in flames. Been freaking out since. They found the other driver, he was thrown from the car and died on impact. They think it was alcohol related. But they couldn't find you.”
“Mike hauled me up to the mountains. Wanted to talk to me. I'm pressing charges. He wouldn't take me home or to the hospital.”
“Are you okay, babe? Really?”
Giving him a hug would make me immensely better. Until then, “I'm better than I was, Dmitri. I'm going to want a bath when I get home. I'm sore all over.” Two bubble bars for tonight's therapy soaking session. A hot bubble bath never sounded so blissful in my life.
Dmitri and I said our goodbyes. I handed Wiley his phone. “I'm a dolt on occasion. I put Dmitri and myself through Hell tonight.”
“Everyone is a dolt now and again, Kaylis. I'm glad this has a happy ending for you tonight. Things could have gotten uglier.” Wiley pointed to his ear piece. “Your abductor has priors for assault with a deadly weapon. Sex Offender registry for three years. And a bench warrant from Alameda county for his arrest.”
My jaw dropped. Sex offender status? Bench warrant? Jeebus, Mike tread a path I never contemplated. But all things considered, should it surprise me?
“What will it take to get me home, Wiley? I don't think I've ever wanted to be home as much as right now.”
With another half smirk, Wiley clicked the radio attached to his shoulder and informed whoever that he was taking me down to the valley for medical attention. A sharp whistle, and his black lab came bounding from the trees to sit at his side. From the dog's collar hung a very official badge, displaying her place in Law Enforcement. “Load up, Cleo.” Wiley popped open the back door to his crew-cab truck and like a four-legged pogo stick, the dog bounced into the back and sat.
I walked around to the passenger side and gingerly got in the green truck. With adrenaline fading, my aches made themselves known again.
After buckling up, “You aren't the Best Man, anymore, Wiley. You are The Man.”
“I bet you say that to all the guys who take you home.”
“Nope, just the ones that rescue me.”
“Going to make some cookies for Dmitri dressed up as June Cleaver?” Wiley smirked.
Oh shit. “You heard that?” How much did he hear?
“We were parked out here before he came back to camp. We let him get comfortable for an hour or so before we moved in for the raid. Didn't know he had you with him until we moved in and heard the fighting.” Wiley started up his truck and headed down to the valley.
It was only about ten minutes before he turned onto Forest Highway 7, which surprised me. “I thought the cartels preferred growing in more remote areas?”
“They do. This guy and his friends weren't Mexican cartel. Just bay area men looking to make easy money.”
“There were others up there? I didn't see anyone else.”
“The others got popped earlier. We were just waiting for this last guy before we raided and pulled the plants.”
Bumpy, rock-strewn road gave way to a graded gravel road lined with conifers and manzanita highlighted with moonbeams. Hard to appreciate the beauty in the midst of a panic attack. Would we crash? I didn't want to get in another accident. The thought preoccupied my mind. Needed a distraction. I wanted to take my mind off tonight's misadventure, it all seemed overwhelming. Happy thought time. “You made an impression on Jet.”
“Did I now?”
“You did. I was certain she forgot how to blush long ago, but the mere mention of your name got her fiery in the face.” And knowing that Jet was human after all makes me happy.
“That's good to know.” Wiley's demeanor didn't change but for a little quirk of a smile.
“I'll give you one freebie question about her. Ask away.”
“Why now? You were tight lipped when I asked you before.”
“Because I wasn't in shock then and this is my way of going, 'oh you are my hero!' Seriously. Thank you for raiding him tonight and saving me.”
“What's her favorite flower?”
“Anything that smells good. She hates pretty flowers with no scent.” It pleased me that he wanted to know what she liked.
“Nothing one dimensional with that woman, is there?”
“Nope, nothing whatsoever. But if you're serious about wanting to know her, best let it be on Jet's terms. She hates authority figures, hates being pushed around. And if you hurt her, just find a foxhole and hide. She possesses no mercy for those who've wronged her.”
“I've picked up on her being a spicy meatball.”
“She's the closest thing to a sister I have. I want her happy. Disrupt her happiness, you disrupt my contentment.” No, Officer, that wasn't a threat.
“Understood. Dimi is my brother from another mother.”
My thoughts danced around the ballroom of my mind, bringing me back to the topic I'd rather not think about. “I put him through hell tonight.”
“Wasn't just him who went through Hell tonight. Take a look for yourself.” He leaned over and flipped down the visor, then lifted the cover, revealing a LED lit-mirror. My reflection revealed hair in clumps, a deep scratch on my cheek beneath my eye, half covered with a band-aid. A bruise was forming on my other cheek to match the black eye I sported. And a split lip. Plus a healthy coating of grime. I looked like shit. Dragged through a knothole backwards, as Grampa would say.
“Fair enough.” Self-consciousness struck like lightening, in awe of what this night had in store for me.
I will say this for danger: it puts what is important into perspective very quickly.