Slave to the Rhythm (30 page)

She stared, then blinked and seemed to come back to herself.

“Wow! I mean, wow!”

Sarah was still staring when Ash walked out of the theater. His hesitation was brief as he saw us together, but then he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into a kiss that warmed me to the tips of my toes.

I don’t think friends kiss with tongues, but I guess he was putting on a good show for his work colleagues.

I could smell mint shower gel that he used at the theater, along with a hint of cigarette smoke that I’d definitely be asking him about later.

“Hello, my wife,” he said with a wide grin as I slid down his hard body.

“Hi,” I squeaked back.

“God, you guys,” Sarah snorted, shaking her head. “Laney, you and I are totally doing drinks next week. Don’t blow me off, luv!”

She marched away, waving her hand in the air.

“Is she always like that?”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah. I like her.”

“Me, too.”

I paused, noticing for the first time that he was dressed in the chinos he’d gotten married in, with his heavy army coat hanging open.

“Ready to meet your in-laws?” I teased.

His eyes crinkled in a smile. “Mothers love me,” he said with a wink.

“Have you met many of them?”

He shrugged carelessly.

“All my partners’ parents.” Then he glanced at me, still smiling. “Dance partners.”

“So, you never took a girlfriend home to meet your parents? I mean, your father?”

His face turned grim. “No.”

Yep, there I went again—turning his good mood to bad in less than ten seconds.

We were nearly run off the sidewalk by three men who were staggering and reeked of alcohol.

Ash dropped his gym bag and caught me as I teetered. He opened his mouth to yell at them, but something distracted him.

I did the yelling for him. “Hey!”

The men turned and one of them pointed at me laughingly.

“Sorry, shorty. Didn’t see ya standing there.”

“Jerk,” I muttered.

Ash still hadn’t said anything, but seemed to be gazing right at them.

“What are you looking at, pretty boy?”

Ash didn’t speak, but he didn’t stop staring, and I was afraid it would turn into something if we didn’t leave. I tugged on his sleeve and whispered his name.

He seemed in a daze, but then he shook his head quickly and picked up his gym bag, ignoring the men.

“Faggot!”

Another of them shouted at Ash, and they all laughed. I felt him stiffen at my side, but he kept walking and didn’t turn around.

“What a pussy.”

Ash rolled his eyes and muttered something I couldn’t hear. I hoped that we were far enough away from them that there wouldn’t be any trouble.

But then the leader yelled again.

“Yeah, he can suck my dick!”

I saw the change in Ash instantly: the light went out and a darkness filled him. He dropped the gym bag again and ran toward the men.

They seemed taken aback but were too drunk to move.

I watched in horror as Ash skidded up to the first man and punched him in the face without saying a word.
Bam! Bam! Bam!

Blood spurted from the man’s nose and his arms windmilled as he fell in slow motion.

The yellow street threw weird shadows over the ugly scene. Ash’s face seemed demonic as he swung three more times. It all happened so quickly, only the second man tried to hit back, his fist tangling in Ash’s coat.

Then two of them were laying on the cold sidewalk, their breath steaming like horses, surprise and pain on their faces.

The third man stared in disbelief, his alcohol soaked brain trying to work out what had just happened.

I was so shocked, I hadn’t moved a muscle, but when I saw Ash grab him even though the guy wasn’t putting up a fight, punching him over and over again until the man puked and collapsed in his own vomit, I cried out.

“Ash, no!”

I swear I heard the snap of breaking ribs as Ash stamped down hard. Then he hesitated and turned slowly to look at me. Across the street, people were shouting, and I could see two of them on their cell phones, probably calling the police. We had to get out of here or Ash would be spending Thanksgiving in a jail cell. And this time I was certain my dad wouldn’t help him.

Ash lowered his foot and seemed to come back to himself. He jogged toward me, scooped up the gym bag and grabbed my hand, tugging me down the street, until we turned the corner and the men were out of sight.

My frozen fingers fumbled as we reached my car, and Ash calmly took the keys from my shaking hand, opened the passenger door and helped me inside.

Then he jumped into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb, his face tense, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. I’d never seen anything so . . . so
vicious
before. Those drunk guys hadn’t stood a chance, and I’m not sure Ash would have stopped before he’d done even more serious damage. What the hell had happened? We’d been walking away? What had set him off? I tried to think back, but my mind had gone blank.

“Did you see him?” Ash asked suddenly.

“Yes! I . . . my God, Ash! Those men! That was . . .”
Insane. Horrifying.

Ash threw me a confused look, then his face settled into a hard mask.

“They were assholes.”

“Yes, but . . .”

He sighed out a long breath. “Are you mad at me?”

The hot and cold emotions running through me couldn’t be summed up in one word or even one sentence, so I didn’t try.

“You have blood on your shirt.”

His lips tightened again. “You’re mad at me.”

“You could have been arrested for assault.”

He shook his head. “I can go home—back to the apartment—if you don’t want me to be with your nice happy family.”

His tone was sarcastic, but there was a vulnerability that made me want to protect him, to make it okay. Which seeing as he’d just taken on three guys—drunken guys I’ll grant you, but three guys all the same—he definitely didn’t need my protection.

“No, it’s over now. Just . . . I can’t believe . . . so ruthless.”

We didn’t speak again, except for me to give him directions as we left the city and headed south.

It felt a lot like our escape from Vegas. There was the same tension in the air and uncertainty between us as Ash drove into the night. Finally, I remembered the trick that always worked with him: I turned on the radio. We listened to a mournful Country song before Ash hit the button and found a Chicago jazz station.

As we drove south, we passed through the quaint community of Canaryville where I’d grown up. Each street had a memory, with the landscaped yards, sprawling old trees and a cultural life that centered on St. Gabriel’s. Mom was going to love the fact that Ash was Catholic. I knew that come Christmas, she’d be dragging us off to Midnight Mass.

As soon as I had the thought, I paused. Ash wasn’t my family, no matter what a piece of paper said, and for all I knew, now that he had money, and his passport and green card were on the way, he’d be flying home for Christmas, especially if the show was going to close like he thought.

A sharp ache made me press my fingers to my chest. And it wasn’t the cold November night that made me shiver.

But then my phone rang, and my cousin Paddy’s name flashed up.

“Hi, Paddy!”

“Hey, kid! You on your way?”

“Yes, another 10 or 15 minutes. Why?”

“Well, don’t freak, but Collin’s here.”

“Collin?”

Ash threw me a questioning look.

“Yeah. He’s been drinking . . .”

“Collin never drinks.”

“Well, he is now, Laney, so you’d better get over here. And, um, he’s been saying things.”

“What sort of things? What’s he been saying, Paddy?”

There was a sigh.
“Just get here, Laney,”
and then he hung up.

“That was weird.”

“Everything okay?” asked Ash.

“I don’t know. Apparently Collin showed up. Oh God, that’s going to be awkward! What on earth is he doing at my aunt’s place?”

Ash tapped a long finger on the steering wheel.

“He wants you back.”

“No, not after how things ended. You
heard
what he said.”

Ash didn’t answer, and I was left stewing in questions for the next ten minutes.

Just before we arrived at Kankakee, I told him where to turn and we drove down increasingly narrow roads until we stopped outside a large two-story building, with split rail fences and a white porch. It had a southern feel about the place, even though the air was crisp enough to promise snow.

I unclipped my seatbelt but before I could climb out, Ash grabbed my hand.

“Are we okay, Laney?”

I knew what he was asking, but I found it hard to meet his eyes. The sudden violence had shocked me. The fact that he wouldn’t stop hitting that man. And it made me wonder how well I really knew Ash. My father’s words flashed through my mind.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “But please don’t do anything like that again.”

He shook his head. “I can’t promise.”

What was going on? Why was his expression so bleak?
I wished he’d talk to me, but now wasn’t the time.

“Just . . . fine . . . but leave Collin to me. In fact, let me do
all
the talking, okay?”

Again, he shook his head.

Hell, this was going to be a messed up Thanksgiving.

I didn’t want to be here. To keep myself from going completely crazy, I spent a moment ticking off a list of grim and tragic places where I’d rather be, then ran out of fingers. I wished I could take off my shoes to continue my new hobby.

Ash unloaded the trunk, taking out our luggage and the bags of food that we’d brought with us. I hoped he’d have time to change his shirt before he met my parents.

Squaring my shoulders, I walked up the steps to the front door, but before I could press the bell, the door flew open and a red-faced Collin teetered in front of me.

“There she is,” he sneered. “The blushing bride.”

Oh no!

A hand came from behind, and I saw Paddy grab a fistful of Collin’s shirt and drag him back inside.

I glanced over my shoulder, certain that the shock I saw on Ash’s face was reflected in my own. But then my mother and aunt were standing on the doorstep and pulling me into the hallway, smothering me with hugs and questions.

Ash followed more slowly and I heard him drop the bags onto the wooden floor.

“Laney, what is this nonsense?” asked Mom before I’d had a chance to take a breath. “Is it true?”

“Let her through the door, why don’t you?” huffed Aunt Lydia. “We’re all in the kitchen.”

Mom glared and stomped through to the large farmhouse kitchen in the back.

I stared at Ash and he shrugged his shoulders. Then he reached for my hand, and after a short hesitation, I took it.

The air was warm and spicy, the delicious aroma of hot cider and cinnamon filling Aunt Lydia’s kitchen. I breathed deeply, letting the familiar scent of childhood soak in.

Dad was already sitting at the heavy wooden table with Uncle Paul, each nursing a glass of beer. Collin slumped down, his threatening smile loose, his eyes hard and hurt and accusing.

“Are you going to deny that you married
him?
”

“Ash is my husband.”

Everyone looked stunned, including Ash but he recovered before anyone noticed and smiled proudly, slipping his arm around my shoulders.

“I’m a very lucky man,” he said like he meant it.

I sat on the hard chair opposite Collin as my knees gave way, and Ash slid into the seat next to me. As everyone stared, I suddenly felt stifling hot in the room. I loosened a couple of buttons on my coat, wondering if we’d be better off turning around and heading back to Chicago.

Under the table, Ash grabbed my hand again. I threw him a quick look, but he was staring coldly at my ex-boyfriend.

Collin raised a glass and saluted me as beer slopped over the rim.

“To the happy couple!”

Paddy took the glass out of his hands and tipped the beer into the sink.

“You’ve had enough to drink, buddy.”

Collin wasn’t drunk enough to argue with Paddy, who was a big guy, like all the men in my family, and worked for the Fire Department.

“Laney?” My mom’s eyes were wide as she stared at me.

“Um, well . . .” I cleared my throat nervously, feeling as if I was 13 years old, not a few months from thirty.

Collin laughed loudly. “He married her for a green card. Why else?”

My face flushed red.

Ash’s hand tightened over mine and he looked questioningly, waiting for me to answer. But I had nothing. I’d told him I’d do the talking, but I just couldn’t find the words.

Ash raised my hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss across the knuckles.

“Laney is my sunshine,” he said simply, then he smiled his breathtaking smile.

I was willing to bet that smile had won over most of the women in the room, but not Dad. Of course.

“Laney, what the hell were you thinking? Immigration fraud is serious.”

Ash’s hand tightened compulsively and my mouth dried as I stared at my father’s disappointed face.

“I . . .”

The words still wouldn’t come.

“I know you don’t want me for a son-in-law,” Ash broke in, his face hard, “but I care about Laney and I will always protect her.”

Dad’s glare was furious, the cop gone, the angry father very present. His gaze flickered, then he looked away, his expression defeated.

“I should have guessed,” he muttered.

“When . . . how long . . . are you really married?” asked Mom, still looking stunned and hurt.

I nodded.

“Father Patrick didn’t say a word!”

“We had a civil ceremony, Mom.”

She shook her head and pressed her lips together.

“When?” Dad echoed.

I licked my lips and glanced at Collin. “Three weeks ago.”

The pain on his face was awful.

“Three weeks ago?
Two
weeks ago I was asking you to marry
me!
You didn’t say anything! Why? Why?!”

“I’m sorry.”

God, that sounded so inadequate.

“Were you fucking him all this time?”