Entangled Interaction

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Drowsily, I had opened the door to find a taller, lithe lady dressed in black heels, complementing a smart red business suit. Everything looked neatly pressed without so much as a speck of lint or dust daring to mar the overall appearance. It took me a long moment to conjure up a name for Meat's mother.

  "Daphne?"

  She marginally nodded her head while staring below my face level. I followed the line of her vision to my Hello Kitty pajamas, rumpled and wrinkled from wear. An inward cringe followed. She'd just stepped off a model runway, and I, on the other hand, looked like a warmed-over street urchin.

  "May I come in?" Her crisp tone shook the last cobwebs from my brain.

  "Oh… sure." With a sweeping gesture, I shut the door behind her, listening to the click of her heels on the wood floor. "Would you like something to drink? I can make breakfast." I followed her toward the couch.

  "No, thank you." She sat down properly, all ladylike, crossing her legs when settled.

  I flopped down in the nearest chair and waited.

  My only prior experience with this woman was an inquisition after she and her husband stumbled into Meat's bedroom, catching us in the middle of the human version of Wild Kingdom: The Mating Episode. The room heated with the memory as I resisted the urge to fan my suddenly hot face. We shared lunch with them after that, another episode of my erratic bumbling.

  "I've come to speak to you about Tygerius," she began as if calling a board meeting to order.

  "Okay." I felt compelled to sit up straight, appear taller and less slouched in reaction to her scrutiny.

  "What are your intentions toward him?" Her immaculately painted fingernails tapped a knee, while those golden eyes delved in my soul.

  "Huh?"

  She puffed out a breath. "My son. What do you intend to do about your relationship with him?"

  I blinked at her, trying to wrap my mind around this pitch from left field. My intentions? Do about him? It's not like he was pregnant and she was trying to determine if I would stand by him and the impending child. Did he need beating? Rescuing? Castrating?

  Her face pinched as if she could read minds and sorely disapproved of my thoughts.

  Maybe I should forget the castration idea. Think mother, not angry ex. Nope. Nothing came to mind with that. When all else fails, punt. Or, in my case, play dumb.

  "My relationship? Umm. I don't know if you realize this or not, but he broke up with me a while back."

  She tugged at her form-fitting skirt, then rubbed out imaginary wrinkles as she re-crossed her legs. She flipped her hand dismissively. "So the first bump in the road and you give up?"

  My dander rose. She blamed me? While I shouldered more than my fair share of the blame, some of the remainder hovered over her son. "I left messages on his cell phone. He never returned them. I apologized." A sigh escaped as I looked away from her intense expression. "At that point, I figured the relationship was over. If he wanted me back, he knew where to find me and how to get a hold of me. When he didn't…" I shrugged half-heartedly.

  She remained silent.

  "What was I supposed to do? Hit him over the head with a stick?" The words tumbled out. "He's a grown man and obviously didn't want me. Besides, he could have any woman he wanted, more wealthy women, more sexy and beautiful women. Any that he wanted." Nervously, I wiggled in my seat. "I moved on. I'm sure he has too."

  One eyebrow crept up on her chiseled face. "You have a boyfriend?"

  Why did we have to discuss my love life, or, more accurately, my lack of one at the crack of dawn? With a woman who obviously disapproved of everything about me, no less. "Well… no."

  Reclining against the back of the couch, she stared in my direction for a long, pregnant pause. "He says he's over you, but I don't believe it. No matter how many floozies he beds, I don't believe for a second that he's put you behind him."

  I choked and coughed.

  "They may be courtesans in the highest degree, but I think Tyger needs more than just a highly paid sex strumpet or bondage bitch to complete his life."

  Wheezing, I struggled to clear my own spit.

  "He needs someone with substance and not the big-boobs kind, either."

  Oh, good grief. Where was that hole that Alice fell down when you needed it?

  Daphne leaned forward, her gaze locked onto mine. "You're the one Tyger needs."

  I swallowed and blinked, unable to look away from her piercing gaze. "Me?" The word squeaked out.

  She nodded decisively. "You."

  "But… I… he… we…" Her words shocked me to the core. This woman looked down on everything about me, but decided that I was perfect for her son? What episode of the Twilight Zone had I entered?

  "You both are fighting your attraction and feelings." She looked around the room. "You hide from the world. He bounces from bed to bed and buries himself in his work in-between."

  "If he wanted me, he had plenty of time to do something about it." My chin lifted.

  "They don't realize how much their work pulls them away. Before you know it, they're completely wrapped up and have forgotten how to live their life. I should know."

  Her admission shocked me. "You?"

  Her lips turned down as her features dropped sullenly. "Yes. Tyger is just like his father. Works hard, plays hard. Never slows down for a second to enjoy the fruits of life. Sometimes, I worry that being so involved with running the Familia, he will discover another woman to satisfy his needs, one of the many that he spends much more time with than me."

  Oh, boy. What would Dr Phil say in a moment like this? You think he's been sneaking around with your sister? No. That would be more Jerry Springer-ish, wouldn't it? Think. Think. Have you been checked for certain sexually transmitted diseases from multiple sex partners? Dr Oz. No. No. Not quite right, either. The man wants the woman who will make his penis happy. Oh, good grief. Dr Ruth isn't right either. If only I had a brain. Like Dorothy had to deal with this situation in the Wizard of Oz. For some reason, I couldn't see those winged monkeys fighting for the intimate attention of the munchkins. That certainly gave new meaning to being part of the "Lollipop Guild."

  "I see." A good neutral response. Years of therapy does pay off every now and again. "So you think I can derail Meat from the same railroad track that he's following his father on? To make him see there's more to life than work and responsibility?"

  She nodded, her shoulders curving in almost a slouch. "He needs someone like you to keep him balanced, to show him humor and love."

  I thought about her point for a few seconds. In that brief amount of time, the cold, calculating Daphne returned. Her back straightened, hands clasped in front of her as she pulled herself together. "Go to him. Tell him you want him back." She stood in a flurry and headed toward the front door.

  Jumping up, I hurried after her, mouth still gaping open. "What if he rejects me?"

  She paused to look down at me. "He won't."

  "I wish I could be so certain." The whisper carried easily to her extra-sensitive ears.

  "He wants you back even if he won't admit it. It's up to you to go to him and make him see reason."

  I bobbed my head, not sure what to say.

  A small smile broke the sharpness of her facial lines, easing the tension. "Hit him over the head with a stick if you have to, but I would prefer you steer clear of castration. I do expect grandchildren."

  My mouth fell open. Good grief. I hate it when people read my thoughts. Mainly because my thoughts weren't always sweet and innocent. Talk about unfair and a potential reputation ruiner too.

  With a quick glance, she strode out onto the front porch.

  "Daphne?" I called from the doorway, halting her halfway down the steps.

  She spun and waited.

  "I have a stick if you need to borrow it… for hitting stubborn mules upside the head."

  A sad smile flashed across her face. "I'll remember that."

  * * * *

  So here I stood at the base of the stai
rs leading backstage. My heart pounded while my brain scurried over what to say to the hyena.

  I rehearsed for this moment all day long, never coming up with the perfect opening line. Throwing myself in his arms and begging him to take me back was too far beneath me. Yet, walking in and calling him a pig's butt for dumping me might not set quite the right mood for relationship mending. Heck, I didn't even know what the proper mood for such a discussion would be.

  If I were a big strong man, I would thump my chest and roar, pumping myself up for a confrontation. As a woman, I simply raised my chin, headed up the stairs, and quietly opened Meat's dressing room door.

  The scene before me almost shocked me enough to spin around in a hasty retreat. Almost.

  A slinky woman wearing an obscenely short red leather skirt stood with her arms wrapped around Meat's body, while one spiked heel-clad foot and leg kinked around his upper thigh. The skintight black leather pants outlined his assets nicely as did the matching black T-shirt. I'm sure she could not only see but feel any and all Meat parts from her position plastered to his body. By the sounds of her ragged breathing and grunts, she couldn't wait to experience more. As I stood there, one of her hands, the bright red nail-polished fingers shining in the dimmed light, traced downward from his neck to cup his perky rear, giving it a not so gentle squeeze.

  A frown creased my face as annoyance crept in. I worried myself silly about what to say to Meat. All for what? To set the perfect mood for serious discussion. Yeah, well. Hard for him to talk when the Jessica Rabbit wannabe had her tongue glued to his upper palate.

  I loudly cleared my throat. Only to be ignored. Tapping my toes didn't work either.

  I wasn't stupid. Meat could certainly smell me, despite the overdone stench of perfume on the trick currently trying to suck his tongue down her throat. Last I knew, his hearing beat that of any human, hands down. Which meant he ignored me on purpose.

  With a grumble and a growl, I quickly stepped back out the door, closing it in my wake.

  Two steps down the hall, I froze. Annoyance turned to anger. Bright, hot, boiling rage, and the steam needed an outlet.

  I made the trip to try to make amends with the hyena. He was too busy sucking face with some floozy to pay me any attention. Well, I would just show him. How dare he ignore me after all I had been through? No way was I leaving without telling him what I really thought. That way, when his mother decided to come for another visit, I could tell her I did what I could but the jackass was too busy sampling the slutty hors d'oeuvre to listen.

  Storming back into the room, I slammed the door loudly in my wake.

  The woman jumped back, leaving me enough room to wedge myself in between them.

  Meat looked down at me, his arms crossing over his chest. One eyebrow shot up.

  "Okay. Horny toad. We need to talk."

  "Go away, bitch." The tall, lean woman stepped forward, using an index finger to poke on my chest. "Meat is mine for the moment. Wait your turn. Next week maybe." Her chin tilted upward as one boney hip slammed into my side, tilting me off balance enough to step back.

  Fury flew to the forefront. "Ohhhh, I so don't think so." I managed to fling open the door once more and gave the woman a hard shove in the back. "Excuse me!" I yelled before slamming the door closed once more. Brushing off my hands, I returned my attention to the lone person left in the room.

  "Now, where were we? Oh, yes. I was admitting I still love you. However insane, it's the truth."

  Meat's eyes flickered from the door back to me. His face almost appeared to ease, as if the tension slowly ebbed from inside. "And?"

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to tone things down a bit in order to actually be able to speak like a civilized lunatic instead of a crazed jilted lover. "And I need to know if you want to try once more to make our relationship work."

  "We've covered this ground already, Shyanne." He put that challenge back into his low voice.

  I swallowed my pride. "I miss you. I think we make a good team. And I still have feelings for you."

  He strode over to the wardrobe, digging through the contents.

  "I need to know how you feel about me. About us." My hopes dropped with each moment of silence on his part. I needed an honest answer either way. He could throw his hat back in the ring and give us another shot. Or he could declare us done and I'd walk away, continue with my search for the man of my dreams elsewhere. I wished for the former but prepared myself for the latter.

  I could almost count the long drawn out seconds as they went by. The muffled music served as a backdrop but wasn't loud enough to block out the clock ticking in my head.

  Meat found the shirt he wanted and pulled it from the hanger. The tink-tink of the hanger swaying on the bar helped count the beats of silence. He yanked off his old shirt and tossed it into a heaped over basket. A new one slid over those powerful shoulders, the pale color contrasting to his tanned skin tones.

  My hopes dashed across the wave-beaten rocks. I laid my very heart open for him, and he replied with silence. No matter what Daphne said, it appeared nothing short of beating him with a stick would change his mind. I doubted whapping him with a two by four would make a dent in his stubborn pride.

  A long sigh escaped as I started toward the door. A large lump formed in my throat as I felt the tears threaten. No sense standing around and looking like a lovesick Quasimodo wishing for Esmeralda to notice and fall madly in love. That only happened in fairy tales. My relationship had burned to the ground. No phoenix had appeared. End of story.

  "You miss me?"

  Those softly whispered words blew across the snuffed out flame, encouraging the tiniest spark to reawaken.

  I paused with my hand clutching the door handle. Not daring to breathe, I slowly turned, afraid to let my hopes rise. Meeting his gaze, I dug deep and found the strength to nod shakily.

  His arm reached out, snagged me around the waist, and pulled me flush against his front. A tight hug followed along with a kiss planted on my crown. "I missed you too." He leaned back, using one finger to lift my chin, lining our lips for impending contact.

  My hand flew to cover his mouth. His eyes widened in question. "Oh no. I know where that mouth has been." My gaze lowered to his leather-clad crotch. "And I don't even want to think about where that has been. Nope. No lust-driven psycho woman cooties for me."

  "Then what?" Confusion laced his words and knitted his brows.

  I stood on tiptoe and brushed my lips across his cheek. "Maybe we can take things slow. Work out the kinks first."

  His mouth curved upward. "I'm good at kinkiness."

  My face flamed as I ducked under his embrace. "None of that. I want to work on our relationship, not see how hot we can make the sheets."

  "Spoilsport," he chastised with a grin.

  My smile matched his before falling into a serious appraisal. "Show me that you want me, Meat."

  Leaving him with those words, I quietly walked out the door and headed home.

  Maybe, just maybe, the phoenix can rise above the ashes once more.

  Chapter 12

  Three days later

  I sighed wistfully. Time passed, and I remained without a definite boyfriend. Sure, Meat had called a few times, and we chatted amicably, but he hadn't asked me out or even visited me at home. Another weekend had arrived, and I sat at home waiting for Prince Charming to dash up on his fiery steed and sweep me off my feet. Who was I kidding? These days a woman had to go out, find her Prince Charming, smack him upside the head with a club, and drag him back to her lair to make an honest man of him. Not to mention Meat had centuries left of life to find a partner while I had a few short decades. I wasn't getting any younger, and my assets would only hold for so long before beginning to sag.

  Spying the newspaper, I picked it up to scan the area events. Maybe at some of the community fairs or festivals, men would congregate. That's what I needed, a congregation of men to choose from.

  A dark green flyer floated out of
the paper to land at my feet. Curious, I read the words. "Speed Dating." Intrigued, I lifted the flyer and scanned the rest of the information. Meet men in two minute brackets. If you like them, you exchange phone numbers. If not, you move to the next one.

  Tapping my chin with the flyer, I gave it consideration. This sounded promising. No pressure. Just meet men and see if any of them clicked. The small fee was more than manageable. Why not?

  With an inspired smile on my face, I raced up the steps to the bedroom to change clothes for my future boyfriend.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, I stood at the entrance to the room, stunned to see so many people. The numbers of men to women were fairly equal from what I could see, with the total around maybe thirty people looking for the love of their life.

  I smoothed down my mid-calf length black skirt. I considered pink but thought it might be a bit much to wear all hot pink on a first meeting. Tamping it down to a subtle blush-colored blouse seemed much more reasonable. Give them a small taste of Shy before hitting them over the head later. That was my theory, anyway.

  A tall red-headed woman stood at the front of the room, instructing everyone to take a seat so we could begin. Quickly, she explained she would time each interaction. At the end of two minutes, she would say "switch" and the ladies would scoot one chair to their right. The men would simply stay in place.

  With that said, we got started.

  The first man I sat across from had short dark hair combed back and a black suit with the legs just a bit short. White socks shined like a beacon between the high pants legs and those dark casual shoes. His hair reflected the light nearly as much from what I could only hope was hair gel and not that grease stuff they used in the nineteen fifties. A sad yellow daisy hung limply from the hole in his lapel.

  "My mother wanted me to come here. Mother wants grandchildren. I live with her, and she takes care of me. She even dressed me up for tonight. You like the flower she chose? It's supposed to make me look classy."

  "Ummm. It's a nice touch." I searched for something to say. "Boxers or briefs?"