Nobody's Hero

by Melanie Harvey

  He held up a finger. “Wait, I copied the whole verse.”

  He expected her to react negatively, which irritated her, so she shrugged.

  “No happy ever after for you, Princess, and if there’s a pea under my mattress / how the hell you gonna notice when you busy getting dressed?”

  He didn’t hit the syllables right and blew the rhythm. Also Peter’s voice sounded dead. Rick’s sounded like he was talking to a child who wasn’t quite getting the message.

  “Now don’t fall asleep waiting on a prince / it won’t be me who wakes you with a kiss / that’s a poison apple that don’t get bit / ’cause I don’t think that I could stomach it.”

  He looked up from the paper. “What do you think he means by that?”

  They’re crawling with pesticides.

  “Because,” Peter said, “grammatically, ‘it’ is the poison apple, but the poison apple is ‘that’ which refers back to ‘kiss.’ But I don’t know if the rules of grammar … ”

  You goin’ kiss me now, Carolyn? She closed her eyes.

  “I was surprised too,” Peter said.

  She blinked. “By what?”

  “Now in case I ain’t made myself perfectly clear — ” Peter raised his eyebrows “ — we just goin’ fuck then we’re outta here.”

  Rick didn’t flinch when he said that word either, but he had a lot more practice. Carolyn felt a slight prickle on her neck. “Um … it’s ‘you’re’.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s not ‘we’re’ out of here, it’s ‘you’re’ out of here.”

  Peter folded the paper and tucked it back into his pocket. “My mistake.”

  “I’ve heard it a few times.”

  “I thought you might have. That’s what I find so surprising.”

  “I still don’t know what your point is.” She almost laughed, because it wasn’t that fucking complicated. What self-respecting woman found this funny? “I can’t explain it.”

  “I think you’re misunderstanding me.”

  He still looked and sounded unbothered. The only incongruity was the crawling sensation at the back of her neck. She shifted in her chair. “What am I misunderstanding?”

  “My surprise. How could you choose him over me?”

  “I didn’t choose him, I — ”

  “No.” Peter swirled the wine in his glass. “I think you did. And I’d like to try to understand that, if that’s all right with you.”

  This was ridiculous. She wasn’t going sightseeing tomorrow, and her cell phone was still silent. No happy ever after for you, Princess. “I’m not seeing him, and — ”

  “Why not?”

  Because I screwed up. She stood and paced away from the table as the lump hit her throat.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s personal.” And she was done with this. She turned around.

  “Did you fuck him?”

  Something’s wrong with that guy. Carolyn reached under her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. “Peter, I think you’d better go now.”

  * * *

  Terrance told the cab driver they were running late. That was a lie, Rick would have heard already if it was a minute after seven. The taxi crossed Fifth Avenue and he managed to resist the urge to look across the street. When his phone vibrated, he yanked it out of his pocket because he was an idiot. Mary was a goddamn psychic when it came to catching him at his worst.

  Took a trip into the city just to get away from you.

  Rick stared out the window as the car crept south. Maybe Terrance was right about how long it would take to get to the airport. He’d been so damn anxious to get here and now …

  But now I’m heading home and now I gotta face the truth.

  He frowned and reached into his backpack for his notebook, ran the thought again as he dug out his pen. Gotta face the truth.

  I wanna quit this shit I wanna be a fuckin man.

  Terrance’s phone rang. He checked the display and hit the button to silence it.

  I wanted something better but I think I understa —

  Rick jerked the pen away. Outside the window, the cab crawled through the streets of the city he was finally getting rid of. He had his words back and that was all he’d come for.

  But then I wanted something better. And I just want to understand …

  He ripped out the page and balled it in his fist. Ignoring Terrance’s sudden interest in him, he leaned forward to speak through the divider. “Hey — ah — I gotta go back.”

  “Go back?” The guy’s accented English was clear enough.

  “I forgot something.”

  “At your hotel?”

  “Yeah — no. Near there, the Sherry-Netherland. Can you turn around?”

  “Yes, sir. Is no problem.”

  Rick breathed out the relief as he leaned back.

  Terrance raised his eyebrows. “We got a plane to catch.”

  “Only take a minute.”

  “Some reason you can’t use the phone?”

  He needed to see her face. “It’s always better live, T.”

  Terrance didn’t say anything else. When they pulled up to the hotel, Rick fed enough money to the driver to hold him. Not for long, he was pretty sure he was gonna get yanked offstage quick.

  “I don’t know about her,” Terrance said.

  Rick almost blew him off until he remembered who’d talked to her last. “What do you mean?”

  Terrance looked at him for what felt like forever. “I didn’t want to say anything … ”

  Why’d he wait so damn long to bring it up? Rick felt his jaw tighten. “What?”

  Terrance put a hand on his shoulder, like somebody’d died and he was breaking the news.

  “Ricky. She mixed a metaphor on me.”

  All the air blew right out of him.

  Terrance was laughing his ass off. “I know how much that bugs you.”

  “You motherfucker — I’m a kill you.”

  That seemed to be even more hilarious, but Terrance wasn’t the one having a goddamn heart attack. “I owed you one, Ricky.”

  “Christ.” His heart was still pounding. “You owe me the goddamn room number is what you owe me.”

  Terrance gave it up, and Rick shoved him again before he got out of the cab.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “You better be or I’m a leave without you.”

  Rick ignored him and headed for entrance. On the other side of the revolving door, he waved at the desk clerk, the same one he’d been telling just last night about Carolyn and the Yankees. The clerk wasn’t a baseball fan either, but agreed that he would have gone, too.

  The elevator operator, Jerry, whose daughter played soccer, stood at the corner of his hallway. Rick held up his hands. “Don’t tell me your daughter lost again today.”

  Jerry’s eyes lit up behind thick glasses. “The Screaming Eagles are now one and nine.”

  “Oh! That’s gotta feel good.” Rick turned the corner to the elevators, Jerry in the lead.

  “Feels better than oh and ten.” Jerry held a white glove to the open doors.

  “Tell me something, Jerry.” Rick took a deep breath and stepped in. “Straight up, I ain’t gonna rat you out. Is this the most boring job in the world?”

  Jerry grinned and hit the button for Carolyn’s floor. “Not this week.”

  Rick opened his mouth, but the doors slid closed, the box jerked, and he couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to say.

  35: Still Here

  Carolyn glanced through the open French doors of the suite’s entryway. Peter was turned away from them, facing the interior like a sentry guarding the entrance. Or the exit.

  She crossed her arms. “Did you hear me?”

  He took a sip of wine and smiled again.

  “Peter, I don’t see what’s so funny — ”

  “I can’t explain it, Carolyn.” His voice was no longer expressionless, it was mocking.

  She could have sworn her blood heated up. �
�What exactly is your problem?”

  “You’re the one who finds this guy amusing.”

  “Fine. But frankly, he doesn’t pass out that much opportunity to laugh, which you would know if — ”

  “Oh, I heard that. ‘Fairy Tale Part Two.’ Boy needs to take a look in the mirror.”

  She’d expected this when he pulled the paper out of his pocket. “It’s not like that, it’s just what he sees, the way my father and your mother — ”

  “Leave my mother out of this.” His tone and his face turned to stone.

  She looked over his shoulder. I could walk away and never think about being white again. After fifteen years, Peter’s mother had done just that. She glanced back at him, ready to apologize, but his face was completely composed and the words stuck in her throat.

  “Has it occurred to you,” Peter said, “that being with you might be a big boost to his credibility?”

  Carolyn’s jaw dropped.

  “I didn’t think so,” Peter said.

  “I don’t want to discuss this anymore, I just want — ”

  “You just want me to leave.”

  “Yes.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment before he stood up. She started for the door, but he moved to block her way.

  She stepped back. “Peter — ”

  He grabbed her wrist. Hard. “I want an answer.”

  Peter took a step toward her, and she told herself not to back away, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart beat faster when he smiled again. It never reached his eyes. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry.

  Four raps on the door made her jump. Peter turned to look over his shoulder, and his grip on her wrist tightened.

  Another two knocks. Louder.

  Carolyn took a deep breath. “I need to answer that.”

  An eternal moment passed before he released her and stepped aside. The instant her path to the front door was clear, she started to shake. She hurried to the entry, afraid whoever was knocking had left. Any witness would do, even one banging on the wrong door.

  It wasn’t the wrong door. Her breath caught in her throat and shuddered out. Rick inhaled sharply, like he’d caught it. The uncertainty in his eyes slammed into her heart, and she wished she’d called. Hours ago.

  Then his gaze darted over her shoulder. “Oh.” His mouth twisted. “Room service.”

  He turned away, and she grabbed his t-shirt. Rick froze and for a moment she thought he would pull away. Instead, he looked at her hand like he might be able to remove it by a sheer force of will.

  “Please,” she said, her voice so faint, she didn’t know if he could hear her.

  Behind her, Peter chuckled.

  Rick glanced past her again. “You’re wrinkling my shirt.”

  As if it were Armani instead of Hanes. Some of the moisture returned to her mouth as she smoothed the non-existent creases in the fabric. A smile tinged his eyes, and she almost threw her arms around him.

  Then the smile vanished, and she didn’t know what to do except step back and pray he didn’t walk away. He studied her for a moment then moved into the entrance.

  “I got a plane to catch. Terrance waiting in the cab.”

  She nodded against the drop in her stomach. He shifted, putting her between his body and the door. He was probably just showing Peter up, but she didn’t care. Her heart had slowed, and she could breathe. She fought to keep from reaching for him. Please don’t leave.

  Peter cleared his throat. “Don’t forget about that airplane.”

  Rick jerked toward the snide tone, and red scratches swam in front of Carolyn’s eyes. A flash of jealousy — no, it wasn’t jealousy, it was fury. Straight, no ice. When he turned back, Carolyn fought to keep her gaze from his neck and failed. His hand jumped to cover the fingernail marks, and she closed her eyes against tears that stung her throat.

  She felt the heat of his skin under the stubble brush her cheek, and she wrapped her arms around herself, breathing in the scent of safety and of fear and of every longing she’d ever known. Then his mouth grazed her ear.

  “What I said last night. It wasn’t funny. And it wasn’t true.”

  Her throat closed up completely, and she tightened her arms around the tremble in her stomach.

  “I couldn’t go without you knowing that.”

  She didn’t know how she had air enough to speak, but she did, stretching to direct her own whisper above the silver hoops. “I think I knew that already.”

  Had she? She must have, because his words hadn’t surprised her. She was only stunned he’d come back to speak them.

  Rick moved back enough to see her face. To check — that was what that searching look was about. Not that her meaning was unclear, it was just so far from what he expected, that he had to see it, too.

  It never lasted long. He straightened up, and she remembered at the same time that they weren’t alone. Carolyn glanced toward the armoire, but found Peter sitting at the table.

  He took a casual sip of wine. “You’re right, Carolyn. It does look personal.”

  “Peter — ”

  Rick cut her off. “What is he doing here?”

  Her heart was still racing. “Leaving.”

  “I was hoping to discuss that further,” Peter said mildly.

  “You told him to leave?” Rick asked.

  Carolyn nodded.

  “And he didn’t?”

  That much was obvious, Peter looked like he had settled in for the evening. His arrogance infuriated her, and she started to tell him again.

  Then she saw Rick’s hand move back to his neck. He shook his head slightly. “That’s never good.” He raised his eyebrows like he’d asked a question, but he hadn’t.

  He’d asked her to leave.

  Carolyn’s relief was as intense as her anger, but she couldn’t bother with either right now. She turned back to Peter.

  He wasn’t looking at her. He smirked at Rick. “Did you have a run in with a cat?”

  “Striped one.”

  “Is that what you were going to tell her?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  Peter slammed his glass on the table as he stood. “Do you think you could at least watch your mouth?”

  “What?”

  “Your language,” Peter said. “There’s a lady present.”

  Rick stared at him for a second. Then he looked at her, his eyes so wide that she almost laughed, even before he asked, “Did I offend you?”

  She managed to clamp her hand over her mouth in time.

  “Christ,” he muttered, before he turned back to Peter. “She’s a fucking rap fan — oh, shit. I did it again. Goddamn it.”

  Peter’s eyes blazed for a split second before he collected himself. “Fine. If you insist on demonstrating your lack of creativity, be my guest.”

  Carolyn almost choked, but Rick didn’t react at all, except to hold his right hand up. “Interesting point, but I gotta check something first.” He turned to her. “You been shopping at Wal-Mart?”

  She held her laugh in as she shook her head, and Rick blew out a sigh, his mock relief shifting into a smile. In his eyes.

  Carolyn glanced at Peter’s expressionless face. “Wal-Mart only sells edited CDs,” she explained. “It was a joke.”

  “I got it.” His voice was tight.

  Rick shrugged, like he couldn’t help it if the guy had no sense of humor. She couldn’t look at him anymore or she was going to burst out laughing.

  The hard lines of Peter’s face took the impulse away.

  “That’s probably enough joking anyway,” Rick said, his voice sharpening to a razor. “Cause there ain’t nothing funny about you not leaving when she asked you to.”

  She put a hand under his elbow, Peter’s eyes narrowed, and she could have kicked herself for her mistake. She took a step away from Rick, hoping to put a face-saving distance between them before she asked Peter to leave. Again.

  The tightness in his face relaxed, then h
is gaze shifted over her shoulder, and he straightened up to his full height.

  Carolyn jerked her head around to the ‘who me?’ on Rick’s face. She could have killed him. “Is this about me?”

  Rick looked disappointed with her. Then he raised his hands, palms out, and walked toward the window. The man could be sarcastic without saying a word.

  Carolyn faced Peter. “Thank you for buying dinner.”

  He smirked. “How much do you charge for dessert?”

  “Oh!” Rick’s voice shot across the room. “You wanna watch your fucking mouth?”

  Damn it. She spun around to face him.

  “Oh, hell no, I ain’t standing for — ”

  “Neither am I!”

  His jaw clamped down, and she could see the effort was torture. She could handle this, but she read it in the clench of his fists, in his eyes. You don’t have to. Her heart jumped this time, but she just wanted Peter out, and he was the kind of man who would take a punch and call his lawyer afterward. After a long moment, Rick shot a hard look over her shoulder. Then he shook his head, but she was almost sure that was directed at her.

  She started for the door, thankful to hear Peter’s footsteps hit the tiles behind her. Before she could turn the knob, Peter caught her wrist again.

  “Carolyn, please, think about this.”

  She glanced into the living room, and though Rick faced the window, his fingers laced over the Yankees emblem, her look in his direction was enough to free her hand. When she turned back at Peter, the controlled anger on his face was more frightening than the sight of XO’s body slamming into a concrete wall.

  “I suppose it’s true,” Peter said quietly. “You can’t know somebody from an e-mail.”

  She reached for the doorknob again. “I never made myself out to be anything I wasn’t.”

  “You never sounded like the kind of woman who’d pick some wigger over me.” His voice wasn’t low anymore.

  Jesus. She waited a beat, then turned toward the surprising silence. Rick was studying the papers on her desk. He was reading her story notes.

  She opened her mouth, but he looked up to Peter, to her, and then back to Peter.

  Then his eyes widened. “Oh, that’s me. You meant me, right? Cause I’m white but I act like a — ” He grinned. “That is clever. Did you just make that up?” Rick frowned when he looked at her. “You think it’s s’posed to be offensive?”