Fierce (Not Quite a Billionaire)

by Rosalind James

  “That’s our deal,” Karen said, stepping right up to defend my honor. “Love it or leave it. But you have to admit, Catwoman’s way more badass. Wonder Woman’s kind of lame.”

  He actually laughed at that. “I’ll love it, how’s that. And I’m not going to comment on who’s more badass. I reckon Hope’s got her share.” He put his arm around me and drew me closer.

  “Hmm.” I may have had a weak moment, have snuggled up and rubbed my cheek against his chest. Just for a second. “You trying to soften me up or something?”

  “Could be,” he said. “Could definitely be.”

  Karen sighed. “Guys. PDA. I’m an impressionable teenager.”

  “What?” I stood up again, though, and took the plastic bags from Hemi’s other hand. “I’m not allowed to hug?”

  “Not like that. No offense, but it’s a little sickening.”

  “Speaking of that,” Hemi asked her, “how you goin’? That medicine working?”

  She shrugged. “Not too bad.”

  I frowned a little. She’d woken that morning with another headache, I was pretty sure, and the nausea, too, because she’d wanted a smoothie for breakfast again. She said she was doing better, and that the pills helped. I hoped it was true.

  “Tell me how much suffering’s in store for me,” Hemi said when I’d brought over plates, plus juice glasses for the inevitable bottle of wine, and had sat on the couch beside him with Karen on my other side. Cozy, and that was all right with me. “I’m holding out for action, maybe a superhero movie, as you’re both dressed for it, but I’m guessing I may be disappointed.”

  “We did try to keep you in mind,” I said. “But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it. Karen and I both wanted to watch a New Zealand movie, since you were going to be here. We found Whale Rider, which is supposed to be good. You’ve probably seen it, but would you mind watching it again?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen it, yeh. It’s a pretty good film.”

  “Plus,” Karen said, “sounds like total girl power.”

  It was, too. By the time we were halfway through it, Karen had forgotten that Hemi was with us, was lying curled up with her feet in my lap as usual, and I was stroking my hand over her legs, also as usual. Snuggling, like we did. And if I was lying back against Hemi myself, and he had his arm around me? Well, that was just comfortable. If I got a few tears in my eyes towards the end, that was normal, too. When I cried over real things, the tears hurt too much, but somehow, in a movie, it was different. Anyway, I was allowed to be vulnerable, to be a normal girl, in the dark like this where nobody could see. Surely I was.

  “It’s funny, isn’t it?” I said, doing my best not to sound sniffly when the credits were rolling at last, the haunting music still playing in the background, and Karen had reached a hand out to turn on the light. “You and I were just talking about this last night, Hemi. When you were saying that the Maori legends were all about proving yourself, overcoming your weaknesses. That felt so real just now. I mean, the legends felt real. Like magic, still, but like a...a real kind. Not like a fairy tale at all.” I caught myself up, laughed a little. “Even though I know that’s silly.”

  “Mm.” His arm was still around me, his fingers rubbing a lock of my hair, and I didn’t want to get up. Not yet. “That’s because it is about what’s real. The natural world, I guess you’d call it—it’s not separate for Maori. It’s not ‘nature,’ or if it is, we belong in it, and it’s part of us. We’re all tied together. The ancestors, the family, the ones who’ll come after us. The land and the sky and the sea, and the creatures, too. All together, all part of the same world.”

  Wow. That had been a whole lot of sharing for Hemi. The movie must have had an effect on him, too. I wondered if he were ever homesick. It seemed like he’d have to be.

  “So is that movie really what being Maori is like?” Karen asked. “That place—is it like where you’re from? And do you believe all that? The magic part and everything? The legends? Even though you live here now?”

  When he didn’t answer for a moment, I worried that she’d offended him. But when he finally spoke, he didn’t sound offended. “I don’t think any one film could tell you that, but it’s a start. Yeh, not too different from where my grandfather lives, that film. And being Maori isn’t just a box you tick on a form. I wouldn’t say I ‘believe’ that people can call to whales, or that whales would answer. I guess I’d say that the legends, the traditions, the waiata—the songs—all of it’s in in your blood, no matter where you live. In your bones.”

  Clearly, I’d been right. That he was sometimes homesick, that he cared. But I didn’t push it, because he didn’t go on. Instead, I said, “I see what you mean about Maori women being strong, anyway. And maybe I’m beginning to understand a little more about Maori men.”

  “You mean that we’re stubborn buggers?” He was smiling a little now.

  “Maybe,” I said, teasing back. “And that you like having your own way. That one, I’m completely prepared to believe.”

  “Well, I didn’t like most of the older guys in it at all,” Karen said. “I kind of hated Pai’s grandfather. He was such a jerk. And her dad was totally worthless. I guess Maori dads are like everybody else, huh? They’re mainly good for yelling and making everybody cry and walking out.”

  I could feel Hemi stiffening beside me, the softer moment vanishing. It seemed like forever until he answered, but all he said was, “Some of them are better than others.”

  “Your grandfather, maybe,” I said. “Better than your father?”

  “Yeh.”

  “Well, I liked her the best,” Karen said. “Pai. That she was strong and...and fierce. That she didn’t let anybody tell her no. That’s how I plan to be. Not like you, Hope. No offense.”

  “Oh, I dunno,” Hemi said before I could answer. “Being fierce isn’t just about fighting, maybe. Could be it’s that other thing, that thing Hope cares most about. Knowing what needs to be done, then going on and doing it, no matter how hard it is. Being steadfast. Isn’t that fierce, too? And doesn’t that sound a bit like Hope?”

  There was a lump in my throat now from more than the movie, and I didn’t know how to answer. I stood up and went to put the leftovers into the fridge, and Hemi got up to help me.

  “Before I leave,” he said as he collected dishes and began to stack them next to the sink, “I wanted to ask. Would you like me to get Debra over here on Saturday?”

  I glanced at Karen and said, “Uh...could we talk about this later?”

  “Geez, why don’t you use sign language?” Karen said, getting up from the couch. “You could just say. I’m going. Don’t make out all night, will you? Because...so awkward.”

  I waited until the bedroom door shut behind her, then turned to Hemi. “You’re thinking I’ll spend the night with you.”

  His eyes were wary. “Yeh. I am. Why not, if Karen has somebody with her?”

  I filled the sink with hot water and soap and began to scrub at the glasses, and to my surprise, Hemi picked up a dishtowel and prepared to help with the drying.

  I swished the dish brush around, put the glasses into the other side of the sink to be rinsed, and finally said, “Because of what Karen said earlier. Because she is an impressionable teenager. It’s not really the example I want to set. How am I going to tell her to wait and get to know somebody, to be sure she’s ready for sex, if I sleep with you after a few weeks?”

  “You could tell her that she’s fifteen and you’re twenty-four. And you are sleeping me with after a few weeks. A few bloody long weeks, I’ll point out. I would’ve been good with a few days. Thought I was going to get a few days. Shows what I knew.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. That’s helpful. Or no, actually,” I decided, “it is. After all, that’s the point. That I’m doing exactly what I wouldn’t want Karen to do. Hooking up with somebody on a...a casual basis. And I’d rather not rub that in her face. I’m not sure the age difference will really sink in as a factor
, since she seems to think I’m hopeless, and that she’s about ten years more worldly than I am. She’s wrong, but she doesn’t know it. And I’ve got four years of high school to go here.”

  He was drying plates now. “Not sure ‘casual’ is the word I’d use.”

  “No? I think it’s a pretty appropriate one.” Face facts.

  He didn’t argue, which was why facing facts was a very good idea indeed. “What will you say if she asks?” he said instead. “About us?”

  “I’ll tell her it’s not something I’m willing to share,” I decided.

  I could feel his steady gaze on me. “Guessing that’s new. Not sharing.”

  “No,” I said, handing him the final pieces of cutlery and pulling the stopper from the bottom of the sink. “You know that’s new. I think it’s the right answer, but I don’t know. I’m feeling my way here. Midnight curfew. How’s that?”

  “Not my preference.” He hung the towel neatly over the drawer handle again. “If it’s a take-it-or-leave-it deal, though, I’ll take it. But don’t count on lingering over dinner. Fair warning.”

  Dirty Tricks

  It was Saturday, following two days at work during which I hadn’t answered Nathan’s questions, had asked him not to gossip about me, and wasn’t at all sure that he’d respected my wishes. It was an awfully good tidbit, and asking a lot of Nathan not to share it. I wasn’t seeing heads turning or hearing voices dropping as I passed, though, so maybe I wasn’t giving him enough credit.

  I forgot all about it, though, on Saturday night, when the buzzer sounded and I went to the door to punch the button on the intercom. Because it wasn’t Charles’s voice I heard down there. It was Hemi’s.

  “Ready?” was all he said, and suddenly, I was as nervous as a...well, as a butterfly.

  “Bye,” I told Karen. “Call me if you need me, right?”

  “Yeah, right,” she said.

  I paused with one hand on the doorknob. “Do I look OK?”

  She sighed. “You’re so lame. Ask Hemi. And Hope—”

  I turned around again to look at her. “Yeah?”

  “If he makes you cry again, call me, and I’ll yell at him or something. I don’t care what he says, I’m way fiercer than you.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” I went over and gave her a hug. “Thank you. But I’m better than you think at yelling at him. You might be surprised. I know he is, every single time.”

  When I finally got downstairs, Hemi was leaning against the car.

  “I’ve got this,” he told Charles when the driver reached for the door. So Charles got back inside, Hemi held the door himself, then slid in after me, and I liked it.

  “Sorry I made you wait,” I said.

  He smiled a little. “Shows what you know. If you’d been somebody else, you’d have made me wait longer, and not apologized.”

  “Oh.” I tried to smooth my skirt over my knees, but it didn’t reach. “I’m not that good at games.”

  “Noticed that, didn’t I. But you play along with them so well all the same.” And just like that, I was watching the window between the driver and passenger areas rolling up, and my heart had started that rock ‘n’ roll beat.

  “And...why?” I asked. “We going to have a special talk?”

  “Oh, now, Hope,” he said softly. “You’re a very bright girl. You know better than that. And you’re not wearing the blue dress tonight.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “Good? Bad? You’ve seen that blue dress twice, and I don’t have another one, but I know this isn’t fancy enough. And kiss me, please, because I’m babbling.”

  This wasn’t the man who’d sat beside me on my couch and kissed my sister on the cheek. This was that other Hemi, the one who made my heart flutter like a hummingbird’s.

  “Oh? And here I was thinking that you knew I’d never had the chance to unbutton you.” His eyes weren’t even pretending to stay on my face this time. Instead, they were fixed on the soft white mohair-blend button-front sweater and slim black skirt I was wearing with his heels. “And I’m thinking you’re going to show me those special things I bought for you, too. Which ones are you wearing? My favorites, or yours? Hoping they’re mine. Hoping you wanted to please me tonight.”

  “I don’t remember,” I managed to say. “Maybe you can find out. And maybe not.”

  “You are playing games, eh. But girls who play games with me get into trouble.”

  “Can Charles...” I swallowed hard, and I knew Hemi saw me doing it. “Can he hear up there?”

  “A bit. If it’s loud enough. Does that idea bother you?”

  “You know it does.”

  “Then I’d better keep you quiet, hadn’t I?”

  “Uh...how?”

  He reached across me, and I sucked in a breath. But all he did was unfasten my seatbelt.

  “Not safe,” I said.

  “Oh, I think we’ll live dangerously tonight.” He was pulling me by the waist, turning me so my back was to his front, and his hand was in my hair, unfastening the silver clip so my hair tumbled around my face.

  “Hey.” That was all I said, though, because one big hand had reached around and closed over my mouth.

  “I told you,” he said in my ear. “The spider decides.” He took my earlobe in his teeth, bit down gently, and I squirmed and moaned into his hand.

  “Oh, yeh,” he said. “The hand stays.”

  The car glided smoothly along, and Hemi’s mouth was moving over the side of my neck now. I realized that his other hand was unfastening my sweater, starting at the bottom, loosening one tiny pearl button at a time, his fingers drifting over my skin as he did it. And all the time, his mouth continued to work on my neck, biting hard enough that I was shifting beneath him, trying to get away or trying to get closer, I couldn’t even have said. I knew he might be leaving marks, but I didn’t care about that, either. He had me hauled back against his chest, and the strangled sounds he was muffling with his hand were filling my head.

  “Oh, yeh,” he murmured. The last button was open now, fully revealing my bra. I had, of course, worn his favorite: the pink one with the black lace overlay, and his hand was tracing lazily over the edges, making me squirm some more. “I’ve found myself a good girl who’s so naughty inside. And I’m the only one in the world who knows her dirty secrets.”

  When his hand moved inside the low-cut demibra to claim my breast, I shifted hard and strained against his hand.

  “Hold still,” he said. “Or I’ll stop.”

  I did my best, but I couldn’t keep from trembling, and when he began to work in earnest, pinching the nipple between hard fingers, I couldn’t help myself. I wriggled.

  He let go of the nipple instantly, bit my earlobe again, and I gasped into his palm. “Thought I said not to move,” he said. “You’ve got a lot to learn about obedience. Hold still.”

  I tried to tell him that it was too much, that I couldn’t do it, but he wouldn’t let me. For the next few minutes, he played with me, teasing me mercilessly while I burned and moaned, while I tried not to move and did anyway. And as soon as I did, he stopped what he was doing, and he bit me. Every squeeze, every bite sent a shock of awareness to my core, and I was aching for him to go on, to reach under my skirt and touch me. I wanted to tell him so, and I couldn’t, because he had his hand clamped so firmly over my mouth.

  I only realized the car had stopped when he pulled his hand out of my bra and released my mouth. He was already buttoning my sweater when I spoke.

  “Wh-what?”

  He got the last button done and said, “Sit up, sweetheart. Time for dinner.”

  I managed to sit up far enough to stare at him, but he had his hand on the car door, and the moment it moved, Charles had it open, was standing there waiting.

  Hemi got out, turned, and put out a hand for me. Nothing but polite attentiveness in his face and posture, while I was trying to conceal my trembling.

  “Such...a....dirty...trick,” I hissed to him as he led t
he way to the door of the restaurant and held it for me.

  “Oh?” I caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at me. “Didn’t enjoy that?”

  I couldn’t answer, because we were inside the restaurant, and Hemi was talking to the maître d’, and he had his hand on my lower back, at the hem of the sweater, his thumb somehow finding an edge of bare skin. And then the maître d’ was leading us to a table, and I knew Hemi was behind me, watching me walk, checking for unsteadiness.

  I slid onto the banquette, and he sat down opposite me. The moment the maître d’ left, I was hissing at Hemi again. “This is even worse than the underwear thing, for your information. Now I’m supposed to eat?”

  “Told you,” he said, seeming totally unaffected by my little outburst. “I didn’t want you to linger over dinner. Just trying to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  “You are so...” I knew my eyes had narrowed, and now, he actually was smiling.

  “Yeh. I am. Told you I would be. Want you ready for what comes next, that’s all.”

  “What comes next? What are you planning to do?”

  “Oh,” he said, “I’ll let you wonder, shall I?”

  Pushing the Limits

  I’d tell you what I ate for dinner, but I don’t remember. I don’t remember what we talked about, either. I only know that the wine was, as usual, at some other, more elevated level than anything I’d drunk in my past life. And that every sip of wine, every glance from Hemi’s dark eyes only made me melt a little more, grip my napkin a little more tightly under the table, and wriggle a little more on the banquette while he watched me do it.

  Surely, though, restaurants of this quality didn’t serve dinner this quickly. It couldn’t even have been an hour before Hemi was saying, “Would you care for a sweet?”

  “No,” I said, gratefully abandoning the pretense that I was interested in my meal. “Thank you.”