The Queen’s Denial

Chapter 2 Chi

Chapter 2

Chi

We have to stay again the next night, and I’m almost certain it’s due to Andy’s pull with the doctors and nothing to do with me actually needing medical help anymore. He’s starting to get a little annoying when it comes to my health and safety. My bed would be so much cozier for both of us, but he’s hearing none of it.

“Lights out,” he says, turning off my reading lamp while I’m in the middle of a chapter.

I sigh in frustration and turn the light back on. “Do it again, and I’ll be forced to cut your hand off.” I wouldn’t be at all opposed to making sex with Andy a regular thing once we get out of here, but I’m not going to be able to deal with this overbearing shit. And I know if I fuck him once, I’ll want him again, so he’s going to need to shape up.

“I’m 24-years-old, Andy. I’m a big girl now.”

“A big girl who got her head smashed in just a couple days ago,” he says smugly.

I huff and side-eye him. “You’re not gonna make me feel bad for getting hurt, right? Because although you’re Tough Army Man over here, I’m sure you’ve been hurt a time or two.”

He averts his eyes, considers my words for a moment, and to my surprise, mutters, “Fine. Sorry.”

My eyes roll slowly over to his. It’s not natural for me to hear a man apologize, and I almost want to ask him to do it again, but I refrain. Instead, I say, “Listen, you got them to keep me here for an extra night, okay? The least you can do is let me read in peace.”

He studies me for a moment without looking into my face, and I realize too late what he’s actually looking at.

“Hmm, who’s that on the cover?” he asks, his grin telling me he knows exactly what it is.

“What? No one.” I shove the cover into the mattress quickly and pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“What elven mysteries are you reading about, Chee-chee?”

I feel my cheeks heat yet again. Now I’ve been embarrassed in front of him twice in the span of two days. “None of your business.”

I’m glad, over the next minute or so, that my father has taught me how to read all types of expressions. I can tell that Andy’s holds just a tinge of affection. “The elves on your covers are a lot better looking than the ones I learned about as a kid.”

I bite my lip and look down, still blushing but curious enough to continue the conversation. “What kind of elves were those? Didn’t you ever read The Hobbit when you were a kid?”

He thinks for a minute. “Oh yeah, I think I saw the cartoon or something. But I just remember the dwarf — the main character.”

I close my book and lay my hands over each other like a patient teacher. “No, Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit.”

“He was definitely a dwarf. He was short.”

I shake my head, really wishing I had glasses that I could push up on my nose at him right now as I explain this. “No, no, hobbits are short too. They are like little people. Dwarves are like… little people that live underground.”

“But Bimbodid live underground, in a sort of hovel type thing.”

“His name was not…” I suddenly realize he’s fucking with me, and I narrow my eyes at him.

I’m right, and he gives me another slick little smirk before saying, “I loved that cartoon when I was a kid, and I’ve seen the movies. Yes, I remember Bilbo and the elves. I’m kidding.”

“You asshole,” I say, unable to hold in a small laugh that I attempt to turn into a cough.

“I was talking about the little elves that help Santa Claus. They definitely don’t have sweet six-pack abs like that guy.”

I was hoping he’d forgotten about what I was reading, and my cheeks heat again. “I don’t read it for the elves with six-pack abs. I read it because sometimes the feelings are so real. And it’s just nice to…” I remember who I’m talking to and who we are — the type of life we live — and trail off, realizing how stupid it’s going to sound just a moment too late.

“What? Do you read it for the hot leading ladies?”

I close my eyes at his juvenility. “I read it because it’s just nice to see the good guys win sometimes. It’s nice to be so sure of who they are in the first place.”

When I open my eyes again, I’m pleasantly surprised by his thoughtful gaze back at me. “I feel like I knew that about you before you told me,” he says, and there’s something boyish in his normally hard, unforgiving expression that I’m sure he doesn’t know is there. A moment later, it’s gone, and he speaks again. “But in this life, I think we have to just go with the knowledge that the bad guys are the guys who want to hurt us. Regardless of the reason.”

I blush as he stares at me intently, pretty certain that he’s talking about his wish to kill Giardi for trying to hurt me. I’ve been on the sidelines of the Yakuza my entire life and know how to use a range of weapons — I actually enjoy throwing my knives and my fencing lessons, in fact. I’m just not supposed to be obvious about my knowledge, and I never get to carry a gun. If I did then I could take care of myself, but it’s nice to think someone else wants to protect me that much.

I try to shrug off any warm and fuzzy feelings that thought gives me. “I really wish I could remember what happened.”

Andy has been tight-lipped the past two days, and I doubt that’s about to change now. “Do you remember any of it?” he asks.

“Not really,” I say, considering the question. “I just remember giving you directions, getting into that parking lot, and… that’s about it.”

He gives me a stern look, and I glance away. I may be a little impulsive, but he’s just going to have to get used to that. “You came to help out and started swinging a tree branch like a crazy person while I was busy trying to kill the other guy. Thank God he must have recognized you and decided that shooting the famous Chi Yan could have dire consequences. So instead, he just bashed you on the head with his gun.”

I lie back on the pillows and close my eyes, trying not to blush too hard. Andy is probably downplaying the danger he was in. I try to remember any of what he’s telling me, and nothing but murky, dusky pictures emerge from the recesses of my brain.

“Maybe I could’ve been more effective if you’d given me a gun. Or if I’d had my knives. But I probably saved your life anyway.”

Andy snickers caustically. “Not quite, Chee-chee.”

I open my eyes and narrow them on him. He has taken to calling me by my full name every time he wants to make me feel uncomfortable. And it works, although I don’t want to admit it. “Stop calling me ‘Chee-chee. Your American accent butchers it. It’s a softer ‘ch;’ and ‘i.’ Almost like a ‘sh.’ Tshyi-tshyi.”

He looks at me like I’m an adorable little kitten. Which, to be fair, is a description others have used to describe me on more than one occasion.

“Sure thing… Chee-chee.” I simmer a bit but say nothing. The truth, as unsettling as it may be, is that I don’t hate his little nickname.

“Anyway, it’s more like I saved your life. But who’s keeping track?” I hate and love that smirk he gives me, every time.

“Oh please. Just because you escorted me to the car after I got a bump on my head?” I’m basically asking him to tell me what actually happened, but since I know he probably won’t give me all the details, I’ll have to hurt his pride a little to get it all.

He breathes out a heavy sigh as I lean back to wait for the rest of the story. I feel content to crash now as I sink down into the lumpy mattress. It feels a lot better than it did a moment ago.

And it works. “Well, when I realized you were in trouble, I shot the guy with a tranq dart. He was definitely going to take you and do God knows what with you. You had a huge gash on the side of your head. You were trying so hard not to cry, and you were stumbling all over the place, so no, I didn’t escort you to the car. I carried you to it.

I hate how much hotter Andy has become with just this tidbit of information he’s bragging about. I try to act cool, like this has definitely happened to me before. My other guards would do that for me, wouldn’t they? Then, I realize a moment later, They would never have taken you in the first place. They would have never allowed you to help or be a part of it at all.

Suddenly, a memory pops up in my head: Andy holding my hand, looking at me with an endless worry that I couldn’t process or appreciate at the time. Which is probably why he showed me that in the first place; because he thought I wouldn’t remember. A guy who wants to just fuck you doesn’t look at you like that, a voice in the back of my mind whispers, even though that line of thinking won’t do anyone any good.

But it doesn’t matter, because now I’m tired and fixating on the memory. Despite myself… I love that he did it.

“You held my hand.” I cock my head to the side, like I’m asking a question. “You kept telling me I’d be okay.”

He gives me what must be a genuine smile; I’m certain of it. “Sure, because I knew you’d be fine. You’re stronger than a bump on the head.”

“But…” I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “But you were so nice. You didn’t have to be so nice.”

“Should I have been mean?” he says with a heartbreaking grin.

“No, stop, you know what I mean. I mean,...” I try to collect my thoughts, but I’m just so tired, and I know sleep is coming for me any second now. “But guys are never just nice without a reason. No one ever is, unless they love you.” I don’t even mean to say the last words of that sentence; they just slip out. But it’s true. In the wise words of Frenchy in Grease: “The only man a girl can depend on is her daddy.”Andy’s perpetual smirk falters a bit, and he looks at me with just a touch too much intensity. I realize I’ve said my thoughts out loud a moment later.

I don’t expect him to say anything after my accidental proclamation, but he does. Maybe it’s because he thinks I’m basically asleep anyway. Maybe it’s because he can’t say no to a challenge. But for whatever reason, he responds. “I’m going to have to prove you wrong about that, Chee-chee.”