Dangerous (30 page)

“She’s really hot,” he said, surveying me with a sly expression. He sensed opportunity.

“‘Hot’ will do, I suppose,” Val said a little sarcastically. “Would you like to touch her breasts?”

I stood a little straighter, shocked by her bold question. My heart began to pound.

Tobias hesitated, probably wondering how to answer in the affirmative without conceding Val’s dominance, and losing face. “Yeah,” he said darkly, raising his chin a degree and shifting his weight to the other foot.

“Be my guest,” Val offered.

He walked close, and towered over me, scanning me like a map. Then he put his open hands on my chest and began to knead through my top. The wall at my back throbbed with bass.

My breath grew ragged. I couldn’t meet his eyes and found myself staring at the silver stud in his lower lip piercing instead. I wasn’t aroused or afraid now, simply overwhelmed by a vast, unnamed emotion that would have brought me to my knees if not for Val’s firm grip and the man standing before me.

I looked to her, saw narrowed eyes burning with something like passion. It was a hungry, predatory expression; the face of a cat whose playfulness has turned into serious biting as ancient saber-tooth instincts emerge. She used her other hand to lift my top, baring me, which caused him to make a low chuckle of appreciation. It was a sound male porn-stars made, triggered deep in the reptile part of their brain. He renewed his explorations.

Val let him play for a minute longer, but when he took the liberty of kissing me she warned, “Ah-ah-ah! Not yet, Tobias. I haven’t given permission for that.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but held the kiss for a few moments before breaking off. I felt a subtle shift in the slope of this scene.

“You can’t play with my doll if you won’t follow the rules,” she said in a scolding tone.

In his aroused state he had become less pliable, and now rankled at Val’s presumption of command. I felt a tickle of fear. He was much larger than either of us.
Boom boom boom
, throbbed the distant music.

But Val wasn’t the least bit cowed. In a cop’s voice she said, “This is how the game works: I say what’s permitted, and you obey. Am I clear?”

He was torn between desire and affront; desire won. “Yeah,” he said, dropping his hands.

“Do you wish to kiss my doll?”

“Yes.”

“Then you may.”

Tobias put his left hand back on my breast, the other on the wall beside my head, and leaned in to kiss me. His studs were hard points against my skin, and his breath smelled faintly of clove cigarettes. I kissed back absently, dutifully, and worried how all this would end. His hand slid down to my hips, pulling me against him as he began to thrust his leg up between mine.

Now Val physically pulled him off of me. “Obviously this game is too complicated for you,
Toby
. You can go.”

His nostrils flared at the insult and he stood motionless, deciding how to respond. I pulled my top back down and felt a contraction of my soul, as if retreating within myself, turtle-wise.

“You are one crazy bitch, you know that?” he told Val with a sneer. “You can’t just—”

“I do what I please. Now
go
. I won’t tell you again.”

This was too much for him, and he seemed ready for a fight. When Val didn’t back down he spat, “I’m not leaving without something for my trouble.” And he turned to me, reaching out.

Val grabbed his arm and yanked him back around.

“Hey!” He roared, and they both glared at each other a moment, gathering energy. I feared she’d resort to the switchblade, but thankfully her hands remained empty. Then he made the first move, shifting his weight and raising his arm, as if to strike. But he never got that far.

There was a sudden blur of movement. Val punched Tobias in the throat, then kicked him hard in the knees, and he went down with a voiceless wheeze. I twisted to avoid his clutching hand as he collapsed. His forehead made a nasty melon-thump sound when it hit the floor, and he curled up in agony. Val raised her leg and stomped on his head. He ceased moving. I was afraid she’d killed him, but couldn’t see any blood. He moaned and was silent.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” I said, horror-struck. The world had turned fish-eye. I could see everything, but nothing made sense. I began to feel sick.

Val was breathing hard, murder in her eyes. Once she saw Tobias was out of the picture, she scanned the room and grabbed my wrist. “Come on, we’re leaving,” she said. She pulled the door open and looked for a back way out. There was a fire exit about 20 feet further down the hallway, but it was marked ALARM WILL SOUND IF DOOR IS OPENED. No escape there.

“This way,” Val snapped and started back for the main room, just before a man entered the other end of the hallway, on his way to the bathroom. He must have seen our distress, and the men’s room door closing behind us, but said nothing as we passed.

Out in the chaos of the dance floor, Val hustled around the perimeter with me still in tow. Our haste drew curious glances.

We passed through the next room, down the stairs, toward the exit. “What about my jacket?”

“Leave it,” she snapped.

In a moment we were outside in the chill night air, walking as quickly as possible toward the parking lot two blocks away. Everything seemed unreal; I was in shock from the sudden shift in our fortunes. Had Val just killed someone? God, please no.

About halfway there, we heard angry voices behind us. Two men bursting out of the club, running in our direction. Tobias’s friends.

“Run,” said Val. She let go of my wrist.

A lightning bolt of adrenaline hit me and we pounded down the sidewalk like madwomen. Time slowed. I experienced a sudden, strange disconnection, a singing in my nerves, and actually had the presence of mind to marvel at the hypnotic glide of concrete beneath my flying feet, as if in a lucid dream. I felt I could run like this forever and never stop. Two steps ahead of me, Val moved with the precision of a marathon runner, but in graceful slow-motion.

We reached the gate of the parking lot and turned in at full speed. Gravel rolled under my boots and I almost went down, but the time-warp allowed me to recover with superhuman agility.

Thankfully Val’s car was parked on this end of the lot, near the entrance, and she was ready with the keys. In a heartbeat we were inside. The dash sprang to life and the sudden blast of music from the stereo startled me. Not bothering with seatbelt or headlights she reefed the car into a gravel-crunching J-turn and aimed for the gate. Damn, she could
drive
.

The two men had just reached the parking lot and banged their fists on the hood as we shot past. Val made a right onto Wilshire, floored it. The electric motor gave a powerful whine and acceleration pressed me into my seat for several seconds.

Val shut off the music. Above the wind and engine whine I heard the distant howl of a deep-throated V8 echoing down the man-made canyon of the street. As we turned north onto Vermont I looked back down Wilshire, saw a pair of headlights fixed on us with a predator’s intensity, a hundred yards away.

At the next intersection Val made a another skidding right turn and, before our pursuers came back into view, turned immediately right again—straight toward the lowered gate of an automated parking garage, at a full thirty miles an hour. I screamed and braced for impact, but the Batmobile’s low roof slipped under the cantilevered arm without a scratch. Val laughed, braked hard, and sped up a ramp marked by a painted arrow.

Behind us, I heard the other car race past the garage entrance, booming down the street we’d just left. They hadn’t seen our maneuver.

Val went up a level, speeding through the garage fast enough to screech the tires, a sound which echoed strangely here. She took the first descending ramp labeled EXIT, and our car slipped under that gate as well. We emerged onto a different street, going the opposite direction.

When it was clear we’d lost our pursuit, Val slowed, clicked on the headlights and followed a sign pointing toward the 101 Freeway. That’s when I noticed her bun had come partially undone during our flight. I began to shake.

“Are you injured?” she said, inspecting me in glances as she drove.
Injured
, not
hurt
. The sort of thing Val would say.

“N…no, Ma’am.” My teeth chattered. The adrenaline had run out and I was beginning to crash, completely wrung out. The awful events of the last few minutes replayed in my head, over and over.

“Did you ki—” I began, and checked myself. “Is he…dead?”

Val chuckled, but the sound lacked her usual haughtiness.

“No, Koishi, not even close. Though he might have a slight concussion.” She said it in a strangely offhand way. “Seatbelts,” she reminded, and we snapped them on. When I hugged shivering arms about myself, she turned on the heater. It was a little past midnight.

We rode in silence. As we sped along the northbound 101 I watched the sleeping world flow past and wondered if anyone had caught Val’s license plate, and if the police would come for us. I wanted to cry but couldn’t. Val drove in silence, and I spent the rest of the trip coming to grips with this new side of my Keeper.

§

Val parked in front of my place, and accompanied me up the several flights of stairs. My unsteady hands fumbled and dropped the keys in a noisy jangle; Val picked them up and unlocked the door for me. Once inside she was a mother hen, putting my things on the kitchen counter, and fetching a blanket to cover me on the couch. In the shimmering, aqueous light from the aquarium she watched my face intently.

“You can relax, dear. You’re safe,” she said in a hush, straightening my bangs.
From me
, she carefully didn’t say. “I’ll make tea.”

She flicked on the kitchen light and put a pot on the stove. As it heated she removed my boots, then sat beside me and gently undid my ponytails with somber eyes and hands like butterflies.

Presently the kettle whistled, and she rose to fix my tea. After handing me a steaming cup, she sat on the edge of the couch and watched me sip. It was my favorite herbal tea, with a squeeze of lemon. The tart, familiar taste slowly brought me back.

Her face and hair shone softly in the light from the kitchen. The fires which had previously blazed in her eyes were spent, leaving only ashes. Her expression was one of quiet resignation. She seemed smaller than I remembered.

“I’m sorry for letting that situation get out of control. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

There was an odd note in her apology; the bittersweet minor chord before a sad song ends. I suddenly feared this was the prelude to a goodbye, the permanent kind.

“Val,” I said. “Don’t go. Please.”

She heard my deeper meaning, it checked her.

“I have to tell you something, Koi.”

I nodded, waited.

“I
enjoyed
that,” she said, guiltily. “No, I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it was just like old times. It’s part of who I was. Who I am. If you hadn’t been there…”

I could imagine the end of that sentence.

Outside, tree branches began to stir. Rain tapped at the window glass.

“You must think I’m a monster,” she said a little bitterly, looking out the window.

“Oh, Val…” I whispered.

And with profound wonder, I found myself overflowing with the same golden joy she had briefly sparked with her cruel April Fool’s joke. Because for the first time Val was utterly vulnerable, utterly naked before my eyes. Because I
knew
she was a monster, and didn’t care. Yes, her game had been completely reckless. But it was Tobias who’d broken the rules, and Val used all her considerable strength and skill to protect me. To protect the one she loved, even if she couldn’t admit it. Of that I was sure.

Trapeze artists must share this sort of bond: being thrown into the hungry sky only to be caught again. Nothing sweetens life half so well as escaping death.

I shrugged off the blanket and embraced her, covered her in soft kisses and tears of spring rain. “Don’t go. Stay with me tonight. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I removed the remaining pins from her bun, freeing the hair to tumble about her shoulders, and smoothed it out with my fingers. The action seemed to move her deeply. I read it in her eyes, the color of pale jade.

When I pulled her to my bedroom, it was like leading a child.

24     
hooky

GOLDEN SUNLIGHT HALF-WOKE me, and the dance of shadows on my eyelids. Vision without full consciousness. Cobalt sky, scudding clouds, so beautiful.

I was looking out my bedroom window. Oh, it must be Monday morning. Presently I thought to check the clock on my nightstand, blocking the eager sunlight with a lazy hand.

7:48am
. Damn. I should be well on my way to work already.

I had slept all of three hours, and exhaustion still flowed through my veins like a drug. There was no way I’d make it to work in this condition.
Sorry, Bob
, I thought.
I’ll twiddle no pixels for you this day
.

Soft breathing behind me. Val. I carefully rolled over to look at her in wonder, and realized she had never before spent the night here. Her long hair spilled across the mint-colored pillows, like sea foam. Innocence lay on her face, and I felt a curious pang at seeing her so vulnerable, unguarded.

I recalled her lips and hands and sighs in the stormy dark, scant hours ago, the smell and taste of secret seas. On what strange shore were we now shipwrecked?

And then her eyes opened, as simple as that. Had she been awake as I watched? We remained this way for a time, gazes locked, in sacred silence.

“Well, fuck,” were her first words, upon seeing the clock. She sat up. The sheets fell away from her, and the faint scar on her left shoulder shone in the sun’s rays, a line of slick, pouting flesh.

“I’m not going to work today,” I said, reaching for her. “Stay here with me. Let’s play hooky.”

Val tucked her hair behind her ear, looked down at me with a darkly amused expression. “In my line of work, you don’t play hooky.” She slipped from under the covers and walked, naked, to the living room to fetch her cell phone.