6. Liar #2
That was the kind of logic that money and ego gave a person without any reality checks. “Am I? Well, I haven’t checked my calendar, but I’m pretty sure I have a few other things going on.”
Michael grabbed my arm, his hand strong, but not particularly painful. He knew I was delicate because he’d had some of the same symptoms I’d had. So, why wasn’t he in his wheelchair being diabolical from a distance? Instead, he was up close and personal, and I didn’t like what I saw in his eyes.
He pulled me close, leaned in, and was about to kiss me when Bosko, the idiot, smashed what was left of his skateboard over the back of Michael’s head.
“If she’s kissing someone, it’s going to be me,” Bosko said, and raised the board for another strike.
But Michael had been taking his vitamins, or something else, like mutated spider venom, because he caught the board and spun it around, then hit Bosko in the temple, so he folded like a puppet with cut strings.
Michael did that with one hand, never releasing me, so I didn’t get the chance to bolt.
Not that I would have, I was too stunned by the ridiculous sight of Michael the Sickly beating up Bosco with his fists.
Fists. Violence. I really, really hated violence.
I swallowed hard as Michael walked me around the car and ‘helped’ me in, locking the door on me and then slid over the hood to climb in the other side, like a Dukes of Hazard fan.
“You’ve been taking some interesting treatments,” I said as he closed the door and turned on the car.
“I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but he did smash his skateboard on my head.” He touched his hair. “I think that he mussed it.” He shot me another smile that gave me the creeps. “Where shall I take you?”
“Home.”
“Where is home?”
Right. There was a reason I lived in a little non-descript bungalow with my aunt. His name was Michael. “I actually left some things at school, so you can drop me off there.”
“Miss Wilson, I’m going to take you home. You’re right, I did smash your board, so clumsily. I could give you my car, you know the money means nothing to me, but someone might think that you’d stolen it and report you to the authorities.”
“It’s too precious for me, anyway.”
He caught my hand, holding it gently, but still too firmly. “Nothing is too precious for you. I want to tell you about my treatments. They can help you.”
“I can’t afford them.”
“I could pay for them.”
I smiled brightly at him. “Is this where you ask me to be your mistress? I’m too cute for that kind of role.”
“Wife, of course. You would belong to me forever.”
He’d actually said that out loud. Was he joking?
I couldn’t tell. “That does sound fun. I’ll have to think about it.
My address is…” I gave him the address of the house two down from mine.
He’d seemed like a nice guy, but he was a martial arts instructor.
I needed a champion. Michael was completely unstable.
Right now, he was playing the part of gentleman delivering a lady to her castle, but at some point, he’d force me listen to him tell me all about how amazing he was.
It was the worst kind of torture. Pain was normal for me, but that kind of psychological trauma I couldn’t take.
“Here we are,” he said, pulling up in front of Nix’s house. “I’ll have to see you again to replace your board, naturally. Tomorrow night, dinner? I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I’m really picky about what kind of board I like, so you could just give me cash, also enough for Bosko’s.”
His lips curled and he studied me, not unlocking my door. It was the kind you couldn’t unlock unless you were the driver, which was ridiculous. What kind of child-safety was necessary in this kind of man-child car?
“You were really about to kiss him,” he murmured, those lips pursing just so. A long, very long time ago, I’d fantasized about kissing him. Then he’d talked to me, and the fantasy was over.
“That’s what you thought it was? He was trying to get a bug out of my eye. Skateboarding is amazing, but it’s not all puffy clouds and rainbows.”
He caught my chin and forced my face to hold still as he leaned closer to me. “Then it must still be there. Allow me to assist you.” He brushed back a strand of hair and then leaned closer, eyes on my lips.
I blocked his mouth with my arm before he closed the distance. “I told you, I have a boyfriend. I’m not interested in cheating on him.”
He pressed me against the seat and leaned over me, eyes over-bright with excitement. He was really enjoying this. “I will buy him off.”
“He loves me too much to take your money.” I struggled to keep him back, but he was very strong, and I’d already used up most of my energy in the bowl.
“No one loves you that much, except for me. I love you. I will give you the position and name that were stolen from you by your father when he seduced your innocent mother.”
I elbowed him hard in the throat and managed to get past him to the driver’s side. I got the door open and was halfway out when he grabbed my hips and hauled me back. Bruises. Dislocations. I wouldn’t be able to go to school tomorrow and maybe the rest of the week. That made me angry.
“I have a boyfriend!” I shrieked and scrabbled for purchase on the slick car, but in another second he had me inside, pinned against the seat, his arm over my chest holding me down while he smiled at me tenderly.
“You are the same beautiful sola, crackling like fire, even as your life burns short.”
I flinched up and squeezed my eyes closed as he went for the kiss I’d been avoiding for years. The kiss never happened. Instead, someone cleared their throat, and then Michael was gone, yanked off of me and out through the driver’s side door that he’d left open.
I was only stunned for a moment before I scrambled out, staring when I saw Nix standing behind Michael, holding him down with his arm hyperextended.
“Hey, honey,” Nix said, looking up at me with a soft smile that didn’t go with the violence. “You were out late. I was starting to worry about you.” He levered Michael’s arm back further.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” Michael hissed.
“The man who assaulted my girlfriend? I’m pretty sure I don’t need many more details than that. The cops are on their way. I’m going to zip tie you to this tree while we wait for them.”
Nix moved him but then I took a step and my hips were dislocated, so that didn’t work very well.
Nix let go of Michael so he could catch me, and Michael used that moment to dive into the car and drive off, tires squealing until he got it straightened out.
He hit a garbage can that exploded all over the road and then turned the corner, covered in shredded paper and banana peels.
Nix exhaled heavily and then carried me into his house. I hurt so much that I didn’t even notice the pain from him holding me, but it must hurt, because it always did.
“This may sound ignorant, but hear me out. I know that you’re determined to not date anyone, but it may be in your best interest to have a boyfriend around who can handle himself in case of emergencies,” he said, putting me down on a mattress on the floor that had sheets but no blankets or pillows.
“What are you doing?” I asked, suddenly panicked. Being inside a house with a man was even more dangerous than being in a car.
He turned away and opened a big box, taking out a tool box that he set next to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and opened it up. I recognized a very good quality first aid kit when I saw one.
“I’m not the best at stitches, but it doesn’t look as if you need those, unless he cut you somewhere under your clothes.” His voice was still pleasant, but there was a flicker of rage in his eyes that I sometimes saw in Beastie.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
He raised a brow and put my hand back on my lap while he rummaged around for whatever he was looking for. “You weren’t walking. Why’s that?”
I licked my lips. I should lie and crawl out of there, but that flash of rage wouldn’t let me go until he’d fixed what was broken. “My hips are dislocated along with a few fingers.” That was totally normal, right?
He nodded like it actually was and then turned, pulling me down using the sheet so it didn’t put pressure on my hips. He lifted my left leg and then rolled the join just so, making it snap back into socket.
I gasped, from his sensible reactions more than the pain, but it had hurt. “How do you know about—” I gasped again as he did the other one, then straightened my legs down and took my hand.
“Martial arts. Some have more dislocations than others.” He smiled sweetly, gentle blue eyes crinkling before he popped my fingers back into place one by one.
He got a bandage out of the kit and set it to the side then put some kind of bruising and swelling cream on my knuckles.
When he wrapped them, he was so careful that it didn’t hurt.
“I’m still not dating you,” I said, stubbornly. If that’s why he was doing all of this, he could forget about it.
“No? All right, but I reserve the right to claim to be your boyfriend every time you’re assaulted in my front yard.
You told him my address. I’m glad you did.
It’s okay to use me to protect yourself.
I know that women have it hard, and I’m honored that you trusted me enough to direct that charming gentleman to my doorstep.
Do you have his address so I can return the favor?
” He wiggled his brows and I sighed heavily, pressing my palm to my eyes.
“I hate violence.”
“I don’t blame you. There’s nothing worse than feeling powerless. The guy, did you know him?”
“He stalked me a long time ago, but it hasn’t happened for years. I hope Bosky’s okay.”
“Should I call an ambulance? Do you have someone to call who can check up on him?”
“I left my bag in his car along with my phone and homework. He’ll probably deliver it to me with a creepy note. Michael Dupre is his name, and we went to school together years ago in Switzerland. He was creepy then, but now he’s really come into his own.”
“You went to school in Switzerland? Did you learn any interesting languages?” He started rubbing ointment on my arms.
“I can do that,” I said, taking the jar away from him.
“Can you do your back too? Because I’m pretty sure you’re bruised just about everywhere.
I’m not going to hurt you, Kitten, and I’m not going to force you to date me.
As hard as it is to believe, I’m okay with you saying no.
I want to help you, because you’re a bruised little kitten, but if you want me to walk away, I can do that.
I might call an ambulance and have them carry you away on a stretcher to the hospital, because it wouldn’t be right to let you suffer for no reason, but I won’t touch you against your will. ”
I squinted at him. I really hated taking ambulances to the hospital. “I can’t reach the ones on my back,” I finally said. “Do you have any Gatorade I can drink? I’m kind of dehydrated.”
He grinned at me. “I have something even better, without the food coloring. I’ll get that while you do your arms, although those dislocated knuckles aren’t going to be useful for at least a few hours, better if you let them heal for a couple days.
” He left me alone for a few minutes, then came back with a sealed bottle with labelling in another language.
“My friend Jezzy brought these back from one of her trips, and they’re amazing. Can I put the ointment on you?”
I traded the ointment for the bottle, holding it carefully in my non-injured hand.
He was so careful not to hurt what was already bruised, or to bruise what hadn’t been injured. He smelled so good, clean, fresh, spicy, and for a second, I leaned my head on his shoulder while he worked on my back from his place to my side, strong arms around me, but not holding me exactly.
The sob caught me unawares. I’d been almost dozing and then the aftermath of the violence, the terror and anger, mixed with helplessness, caught up to me and I sobbed again. I held my breath, trying to not do this in front of my neighbor, but he only stroked my hair with featherlight fingers.
“It’s okay to be upset.”
I trembled and then broke, cracking open as the pain and fear poured out.
He caught me in that storm, held me as sweet and gentle as you could, and murmured soothing nonsense that eased some of the pain inside.
His voice was magic fire, pushing back the terror bit by bit while I clung to him, as desperately as if he was my dad, come back to save me from a world I couldn’t keep, however good or bad it was.