TAKE THE DAMN MONEY #2
He breathed a huff of amusement through his hooked nose.
“Not everyone in Türkiye is ethnically Turkish or Muslim. It is possible one of my parents was Armenian. Many changed their names to blend in. I know nothing about them other than what was on their death certificate; they died in a house fire. A neighbor told that woman my name and left me with her. Nazim is an odd surname for a Turk as well.” Rafael shrugged.
“I could never track down any relatives, and I refuse to give those genealogy companies my data.”
So much tragedy. “Have you been back since you moved here?”
“Many times. Not so much lately. The government has grown uncomfortably authoritarian in the last few years. Similar to here, unfortunately. Different flavors, same underlying need for control. I miss the music scene and the food. And the café cats.” He pointed at me with his fork.
“Talk about yourself, Ms. Parham, soon-to-be bestselling author.”
“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should take the help where I can get it.”
“Muscle is not free.” Rafael rested his chin in his hand and waved at the empty plates, leaning into his accent. “You see how much I eat, yes? I was skinny until I moved to LA. Until I could afford to eat.”
I caught his hand. “You’ve really been through hell.
I hear you; I just don’t want to be so beholden I can’t survive on my own.
I’ve known too many women who’ve gone down very bad roads that way.
It doesn’t really matter if your intentions are good or not.
” I held up a hand to forestall the protest brewing in Rafael’s eyes.
“That doesn’t mean I’m running away. I really like you—more than like, but I’m not ready to change my entire life overnight.
You know us autists don’t handle change all that well. ”
Dee’s admonition to “take all his money, for feminism” played in my mind.
Rafael ran his free hand over his hair. “I admit I am spoiled—accustomed to getting what I want when I want it and being the one pursued.”
“The height alone must have women throwing themselves at you all the time. Makes me feel a little insecure.”
“Do not be.” He stroked the back of my hand. “I am quite adept at scaring people off, and you are what I want.”
“Uh huh. Boobs or butts?”
“I beg your pardon?” Rafael had the gall to look mildly offended.
“You heard me.”
His nose wrinkled. “Brains, if you please. There is an endless supply of pretty, vapid people. Truly interesting people are rare.”
“And if they’re gorgeous and smart and interesting?”
“You mean like you?” Damn those eye crinkles. “No one else has coaxed me to sleep soundly through the night at their side. That alone is worth more than any treasure in the world.”
“That’s very sweet. I still think you’re a boob guy.” I shimmied my obvious assets. “But I don’t know about being gorgeous. I definitely don’t have a thigh gap.”
“Why would you want one? I very much appreciate how your thighs quake when you orgasm. Do not take that joy from me.”
My face burned, and I focused intently on the overload of food on my plate.
Rafael scoffed. “What? I can shove my face into your pussy and make you shudder and scream, but I cannot talk about it? I almost asked your stupid friend if she wanted to smell my breath when she asked if I was gay.”
I choked on a hardboiled egg, coughing and sputtering into my napkin. “Fuck, warn me next time. It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“Shall I commission you a neon sign that says ‘smut’ to light up whenever we discuss sex? You can take it to your book signings.”
“Stop looking so pleased with yourself.”
He cleared away the plates, still grinning. Damn, this one was going to keep me on my toes.
Rafael eyed me over the dishes. “You still have not told me your dreams and aspirations.”
“I mean, making enough from my book to have a dedicated writing space would be great. I drafted almost all of Dragonsoul sitting on my bed with my antique laptop, and now I have permanent shrimp posture. Though maybe being with you will help, since I’m now constantly looking up. ” I made a show of stretching my back.
“That is a small dream, Elaine. Tell me the real one.”
Defensive, I crossed my arms. “That’s an attainable goal! Fine, I’d love for my book to be adapted into an animated series or a movie. I’ve always loved animation, thanks to Don Bluth’s traumatic childhood films.”
Rafael smiled. “Better. What are your dealbreakers?”
“I need another coffee for that conversation. Do you have an espresso maker?”
“What do you want? I will bring it to you in the den.”
I drifted in there, staring at the Goya-esque paintings as the hissing screech of steaming milk kicked up from the kitchen.
Was there more art in all the storage Rafael had mentioned? The building was enormous for so little of it to be utilized. I turned around into a wall of muscle and jumped. A little shriek escaped my lips.
Rafael rumbled a laugh and handed me my requested oat milk cappuccino.
“You have no right to be that damn big and quiet on your feet as a cat. I’m going to put a bell on you.” The cappuccino was excellent, because of course it was.
“I will clap next time. Like scaring off bears when hiking. At least you are significantly less hairy.”
“Forget the bell. I’m going for a muzzle.”
“Are you having a meltdown? Should I hug you and hum?” His eyes sparkled with mischief.
I almost spilled my coffee laughing. “Fuck off. You’re a menace, you know that? Good thing you have such a pretty voice.”
“Certainly not a pretty face, so I had to make up for the lack.” He was grinning now.
“Rafael, shut—you know what? Do you want to hear about my dealbreakers or not?” Damn it, I liked him so much. Way too much. That earlier outburst made a lovely addition to the bouquet of red flags.
He sat and gestured magnanimously for me to continue.
“I don’t want kids, though that’s mostly a moot point by now.
No smokers or addicts. I can support a friend through recovery, but it’s too much in a romantic relationship.
Definitely don’t want to date another fucking cheater.
And no religion. General beliefs are ok.
No Republicans, but I think I know where you stand on that. ”
He nodded through all of it. “Agreed on all counts.”
That was a relief, but… “Rafael.” I looked him directly in the eye. “If you ever hit me, I’m gone. Doesn’t matter if it’s an accident.”
He blinked. “Of course.”
“And no yelling. Never again. My dad is a Southern Baptist preacher. When I had meltdowns, he used to scream at me about being possessed by the devil and slap me in the face until I got ready for church. I will not live through that again. It is not acceptable.”
Rafael’s eyes lit with fury, voice falling into a growl. “I will fucking kill your father.”
“You will not. I have handled him myself, and you will respect my boundaries. Do not yell at me again.”
He hung his head. “I am sorry.”
I patted his hand. “It’s ok. I’m telling you this for future reference. We need to be able to work through disagreements and high emotion without creating more trauma for either of us.”
He nodded slowly. “My voice carries such that even a small increase in volume can get intense, and I have enough operatic training to give it real force. I will do my best to control myself.”
“You sing opera too? God, I need to hear that.”
An indulgent smile lit his face. “You already have. Not many oktavist background vocalists around, so I record my own.” At my questioning look, he clarified, “I can sing an octave lower than the bass staff; deeper than a typical basso profondo.”
“Is that your natural range or from your training?”
Rafael waved an airy hand. “You may have noticed I am tall.”
I threw a pillow at him.
He batted it away with a chuckle. “I meant I have longer vocal cords and a larger larynx than most people. It is a combo of nature and training. My voice is shit right now though, so you will have to wait for proof.”
“Well damn. Who needs a vibrator when I can just have you hit a low note?”
With a wicked glimmer in his eyes, he leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Challenge accepted.”
Bemused, I shook my head. “The voice cracks in puberty must have been wild.”
Rafael’s expression turned to stone. “Puberty was absolute fucking hell. Trying to stay clothed when I was broke as fuck was a never-ending challenge. I learned to hand sew under duress. Shoes were harder, especially in winter.”
I’d never even considered that.
“Oh, it gets worse.” His mouth twisted. “My legs and back hurt so much some days I could not walk. I grew so fast my left lung collapsed. Nearly died when the right one did the same. It took a long time to strengthen them after that.”
Horrified, I hugged my arms. “God, that can happen?”
He relaxed and tapped the tip of his nose. “You should have seen this before I grew into it. Shoulders too.” What a mental image. “Now, continue your story.”
The hamster wheel in my brain spun as I searched for my previous point. “I’m mostly no contact with my parents. I don’t expect you to meet them, and I’m an only child so you’re off the hook with siblings. But I want you to at least try to get along with my friends. They’re all the family I’ve got.”
He groaned. “Deandra, yes, but I have no desire to speak to Annie again.”
“That’s fair. Annie is still unlearning a lot of stuff that most of us got to a while ago, but that doesn’t mean you have to be there for it.
I have other friends, too. Not a ton of them, and not all of them live here, but I want you to actually be a part of my life, not just some weird recluse I hide away with and fuck. ”
Rafael took my empty coffee cup and saucer with a feline smile. “A recluse fuck-hideaway does not sound so bad.”
1 “Provider” – Sleep Token