CHAPTER THREE
Todd sat in the darkened house silently. He throbbing of his hand was almost a welcome relief. It meant some small part of him could still feel. He was numb with shock. His father was alive and well.
How he hated him.
He wished he could kill him slowly and painfully. He’d make it last a week. He leaned his head back against the plush leather of his couch and tried to will the pain in his hand away.
He glanced down, he needed to treat it. He’d been sitting in his house for hours, in a trance-like state. The memories of his youth came flooding back like a tidal wave. He was powerless to stop them.
He took a long swallow of scotch. A half empty bottle stood next to him on the coffee table. The alcohol burned a fiery trail all the way down to his belly. He was stone sober. It didn’t have any effect on him, except to make the memories crystal clear in his head. Like a horror film in Technicolor, where everything seemed fifty feet tall and the noise was so loud you couldn’t escape it.
So kill him Todd. You know you want to. You’ve fantasized about it a hundred times. We all have. Be a man for once, instead of a pathetic, weak-willed, pussy.
“Shut the fuck up,” he whispered. “I don’t wanna listen to you right now.”
He bunched his jaw in helpless fury and hurled the glass tumbler across the room. It smashed violently against the gray marble fireplace. Pete grabbed the bottle and took another healthy swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing harshly. He spun around when he heard a soft knock at the front door.
It was Manning.
He was sure of it. He stalked to the door. He was gonna beat that motherfucker’s ass into the ground. He yanked the door open with a feral growl.
Clarice Anderson stood on his porch wide-eyed and startled. “Thomas?” She bit her lip nervously. “Uh… I’m sorry to intrude, but you left your keys at the diner. I thought you might be missing them.” She stood a little uncertainly. Thomas didn’t look like himself. He looked large and threatening. One long, muscled arm was resting on the frame of the door. The other one hung loose at his side. His face was expressionless. He eyes were shuttered and staring.
She silently handed the keys to him. He slowly extended his hand out to her.
“Oh my God!” She exclaimed softly. “Your hand! What happened to it?” She pulled his hand to her, and gently probed the area around it. “It looks like… God, is it a burn?” Pete shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
She looked up at him surprised. “It’s not nothing, Thomas. Burns can be serious. Look at it. It’s blistered! You’ll get an infection if you don’t get it treated immediately.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I’m not goin’ to any doctor.” He had a half smile on his face, that really wasn’t a smile at all. More like a pulling up of the lips. It was disconcerting.
Clarice frowned at him. He was like a completely different person. It didn’t matter. She was still drawn to him. She couldn’t leave him. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”
“Yeah,” he said indifferently.
“May I come in?” She asked with a touch of exasperation. “I’ll treat it myself if you don’t want to go to the hospital.”
He stood there for a minute and said nothing. Then with a shrug, he opened the door wider. “Come in.”
Clarice stepped over the threshold and into the house. Pete flicked on the lights and a soft glow was cast over the living room. Clarice smiled. “Wow, this is some place!” And it was. Stark and modern, the decor was done in pale wood, Italian granite and glass. Really good art, in black and white, hung on the walls. Thick, emerald green plant’s rested inside copper bowls. It was tasteful. A little cold maybe, but overall, it was beautiful.
Pete stood in the center of the room and said nothing. He was watching her silently. He’d have to be blind not to notice how lovely she was. Her lush black hair fell in a shining curtain all the way down her back. He wanted to run his fingers through it to see if it was as silky as it looked. He clenched his hand into a fist. Her long, long legs were encased in a pair of soft looking 501’s. She had an incredible body.
She turned around. “I’ll treat your hand now, if you tell me where you keep your first-aid kit.”
“It’s in the medicine cabinet,” he said abruptly, as if coming to a decision. “Follow me.” He walked past her, not waiting to see if she was behind him or not.
They entered the bathroom. Pete opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the kit. He handed it to her wordlessly and stood waiting.
“Um… it might be better if you sat down.” Clarice opened the box and began rifling through it.
Without taking his eyes off of her, he slowly sat on the commode. The room seemed to shrink drastically.
Clarice knelt in front of him. “Give me your hand.”
She was the second person to say that today. His body was like a coiled spring. He held his hand out and waited.
“Thanks,” she said softly. She took a bottle of antiseptic and removed the cap. “This will sting a little.”
He narrowed his eyes against the pain as she sprayed the medicine on the palm of his hand.
She looked up and smiled apologetically. “I know. It must sting like crazy.” She blew gently on his hand to take away some of the hurt.
Pete felt as though he was kicked in the belly. Christ. Her soft breath on him was the sweetest agony he’d ever endured. He could smell her, she smelled like a thousand exotic flowers. He would walk through fire if it meant he could prolong this moment for eternity. He felt himself grow hard, and inwardly cursed his weakness.
Clarice began to lightly rub an anti-bacterial cream on him. She placed a soft square of gauze on his palm and taped it. “There. All done,” she said with a sweet smile. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it,” she teased.
“No,” he whispered roughly. “It wasn’t.” He gazed at her intensely. His long hair framed his face like a mane. He looked wild and a little dangerous.
Clarice felt her lungs squeeze together as if all the oxygen had left the room in one sudden whoosh. The rough burr of his voice raced down her spine. The utter silence in the bathroom was deafening. “Well, I guess we’re all done,” she said breathlessly. Her heart was thrumming so loud, she was sure he could hear it.
“Yeah, we’re done.” Pete rose to his feet. He extended his uninjured hand down to her. She placed her slim hand in his. He helped her to her feet.
Clarice felt a jolt of electricity travel all the way up her arm. His hand was big, warm, and slightly callused. Pleasantly so. She blushed hotly. “Thank you,” she murmured.
He walked her to the front door. He opened it silently. “Thanks. Y’know, for my hand,” he said quietly.
“Your welcome Thomas.” She struggled for something to say. “Well, …I guess I’ll see you later. At the diner, I mean. Goodnight.” She turned and walked a couple of steps, then paused. She looked back over her shoulder. He was watching her every move. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His face unsmiling… intense.
“Would you like to have dinner sometime?” She blurted out. “I know you’re probably really busy. I…it’s just… I really like to cook…so maybe… I thought… “ she trailed of lamely.
“Yes.” Pete nervously ran his hands through his hair. “When?”
“How about tomorrow night?” She said, shocked at her boldness. “I live at 1697 Ocean View Drive. Apartment number ten. About seven? Is that okay?”
He nodded. “I’ll be there. Goodnight Clarice.”
She smiled. “Goodnight Thomas.”
He closed the door and leaned against it, breathing as though he ran a marathon. “Fuck,” he whispered angrily. What the hell was he doing, excepting her dinner invitation? He needed to locate that son of a bitch, Manning. Not wasting his time having dinner with a woman who would be expecting way more then he could give.
“Shit!” He yelled. He combed his fingers through his hair in frustration. Manning was out there like a fucking snake, ready to strike. This was all on his shoulders. Todd was useless, Tom was a scared kid, and Rafael, God! Pete rolled his eyes. Rafael was a walking hormone, who tried to screw anything in a skirt. He sure as hell wouldn’t be any help.
It was up to him to finish this. Even if it killed him, he’d bring Peter Manning to his knees, and pay him back in spades for every agony he put them through.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rafael strutted to the door at precisely seven o’clock. He stole a quick glance at his reflection in the glass window. He licked his fingertip and smoothed his glossy eyebrow in place. He was satisfied with his appearance. And why shouldn’t he be? He was an extremely beautiful man. His chestnut hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. He flexed his shoulders slightly.
The black Armani suit he wore, fit his superb body like a glove. He looked cosmopolitan and exotic. He rang the doorbell and waited expectantly.
Clarice pulled open the door and her breath caught in her throat. Thomas had never looked more handsome. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. “Hi,” she said shyly.
“Good evening Clarice,” he said in a low cultured voice. He pulled his arm from behind his back and presented her with a beautiful bouquet of orchids. “Flowers, for a most beautiful woman. You like?”
“Oh Thomas, there exquisite! Please, come in.” She stepped back and let him in her small apartment.
Rafael entered and took Clarice’s hand. He turned it over wrist side up, and brought it to his lips, kissing her pulse softly. May I say how lovely you are tonight, Clairice?” His voice took on an almost musical quality.
Again, Clairice was puzzled. He was a completely different man tonight than he was last night! But just as attractive and mesmerizing. Her pulse fluttered at the feel of his cool, soft lips upon her flesh. “Thank you,” she said. Pleased that he noticed.
She splurged, and spent a small fortune on her outfit. The midnight blue sheath she wore made her skin luminous and pearly. It had thin straps at the shoulder and ended softly at her ankles. Her hair, she had upswept, with satiny wisps framing her face. She felt beautiful. He made her feel beautiful.
“I’ll just take these and put them in some water.” She took the delicate flowers and put them in a glass vase.
“Take your time cara, shall I put some music on?”
“Yes, please. Choose whatever you want.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Rafael flicked though her CD’s, humming a little aria. “Ah… perfecto!” Sade’s rich, smoky voice filled the room. He reached in his pocket and sprayed breath freshener in his mouth. He had lovely breath always, but one could never be too careful.
Clairice returned with the flowers. “There. I’ll just place these on the table so we can look at them while we dine.” She set them carefully on the table. “Lovely,” she sighed. Rafael came up from behind. He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. “Yes, you are,” he whispered in her ear. She bent her head a little, shy and unsure of herself. “You like to dance with me? Yes?”
She smiled. “Yes,” she sighed.
He turned her around gently and took her hand. He pulled her into his arms and expertly danced with her. The music was slow and sexy. He had his hand at the small of her back, while the other one, clasped her hand firmly. Clarice had never felt as safe as she did right at that moment. She breathed deeply and inhaled his scent. Spicy and exotic, woodsy and male.
She looked up at him. “You dance beautifully.”
He smiled slightly. “Maybe, a little bit,” he conceded.
He pulled her closer to him. Their bodies were touching all the way down to their feet. Pete stared down at her beautiful face. He let go of her and stopped dancing. He wasn’t as good at it, as Rafael was. He was drawn to her. For the first time in his life, he felt tenderness toward another human being. He would die for her.
Clarice looked up at him with a frown. “Thomas? What’s wrong?”Pete smiled slightly. “Nothing. I… I’m just having a nice time. That’s all.” He briefly closed his eyes. He was unsure of himself, he didn’t know how to express his feelings with a woman. He wasn’t smooth like Rafael. Even Todd was a damn sight better than he was. He slowly took her face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over her lips softly, marveling at their satiny texture. He touched her eyebrows and cheeks lightly. His face was absorbed and intense.
Clarice stood perfectly still, afraid if she moved a muscle, the spell would be broken. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She let her breath out in a slow, soft sigh. “Kiss me…” It was too much, with a trembling intake of breath Pete lowered his head an inch at a time, until his lips were upon hers. He brushed them once, then again. Slowly rubbing his open mouth back and forth across hers, it was as light as a butterfly’s wing.
Pete released her gently. “Thank you for the dance,” he whispered.
Clarice opened her eyes slowly. She could barely speak, she was trembling so. “I…ah… I should go check on dinner, if you’ll excuse me.” She walked into the kitchen on legs that could barely support her.
The evening was beautiful. They dined, enjoying each other’s company. Thomas was quiet, not really saying much, but it didn’t matter. Clarice would remember this evening for the rest of her life.
She walked him to her front door. “Thomas, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed this evening,” she said, smiling.
Todd looked at her seriously. He came back sometime during dinner. But it was different this time. He remembered the dance and he remembered the kiss. He ran his knuckle down her cheek softly. “Goodnight Clarice.”
“Goodnight Thomas.”
Todd drove around for a while after he left Clarice. He needed to clear his head. He couldn’t get involved with her. He knew that. Every relationship he’d ever had with a woman, he managed to fuck up royally. And in the process, his heart would again be broken into a million pieces.
He couldn’t do it anymore. He would not be able to survive it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Clarice, she didn’t deserve it. And deep down he knew that’s exactly what he would do.
That’s right Todd. You would. You are incapable of love. Of loving anyone. You only know how to destroy people. You’re a miserable fuck-up. You always will be.
“Please, just get out of my head,” he whispered fiercely.
He slowly let himself into his house. He was depressed and tired. Bone weary, he wished he could sleep for a full night. He smiled bitterly. What a joke that was. He turned on the light switch. Nothing happened. The house remained dark.
He heard a sharp click. A flame from the other end of the room illuminated Peter Manning’s face eerily. He lit a thin cigar, and flicked a small lamp that rested on top of an end table. He took a long drag and blew a steady stream of blue smoke at the ceiling. He had his body arranged comfortably on a leather easy chair. Legs elegantly crossed, with a snifter of Brandy by his elbow.
“Hope you don’t mind if I made myself comfortable,” he drawled with a nasty smile.
“Of course I could give a rat’s ass if you do or not,” he joked. He tapped the ash of his cigar on the hard wood floor. His eyes challenged him to do something about it.
Todd blinked several times, trying to calm his racing heart. Tom cleared his throat nervously. “What do you want Dad? I… I’m really tired and I… I… just want to go to bed.”
He walked quickly towards his bedroom, but Peter Manning sprang up like a panther and blocked his way. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, boy.” He backhanded him viciously across the face. “You got another test to pass,” he whispered.
