Drake started to talk but I placed my finger over his lip. He kissed it.
“When I saw the lady getting caned. She had all these red marks on her body. I understood, she just wanted to escape for a little while from all the pain in this world.”
He raised up and kissed my shoulder blade. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“Every masochists needs a sadistic to love them," I stated.
I cupped my hand around his jaw. His face appeared softer and younger. He looked his age for once which only reminded me of one of the many gaps that would soon separate us.
“Being a sadist doesn’t exactly make me a good guy. The fact is I like to hurt women during sex.”
Both of us had our demons. The simple truth was I had no idea how to control mine. So the uncontrollable need to tame his was unsettling.
“Will it’s a good thing there are women like me.” A question that had been gnawing at me bubbled up to the surface and poured from my lips. “When was the last time you had sex?"
"About eight hours ago."
"With someone other than me?”
His expression darkened. “Don’t ask that. The only person that matters to me in any quotation is you.”
I shrugged my shoulder and twisted my mouth into a scowl. He cursed under his breath.
“Don’t shrug your shoulder. It makes me feel like you don’t give a fuck one way or another."
“I don’t know how to feel. So far all I’ve gotten from you is a good screw.”
“I’m trying to have a real relationship with you. I guess I don’t know how.” His smile turned wicked as he went to set up. “Close your eyes.”
I sent him a questioning look, but the tenderness still evident in his face had me following his every command. I closed my eyes. After a couple of long draw out heartbeats, I felt his lips on mine and then something cold slipping around my neck. He let what felt like a hollow rock of some kind fall against the base of my throat.
He adjusted the cold circle and said, “Open your eyes, Soda pop.”
I did, and stroked over the choker around my neck. I hopped up and bolted to my dresser. I gawked in the mirror and for the first time, I saw the necklace he had placed on me.
It was stunning, made of some kind of silver metal I later learned was white gold into an interlocking band. It sat right at the base of my throat. It appeared tight but moved easily around my neck. The circle I felt was actually a diamond and ruby studded hoop. His step-mother had worn a similar necklace earlier that day. What is its significance?
Drake walked up behind me. Our eyes met in the mirror. Immediately, I knew it was more than a simple necklace. My feelings were confirmed when he reached around me to hook his index finger into the loop and tugged.
I braced my hands on the dresser as I was forced forward. “You didn’t open your gifts?’
“This is one of the gifts you left for me?”
“The last one. It’s sort of an everyday wearable version of a slave collar.” He released the hold he had of the necklace.
I stood up straight and flipped around. “A what? I’ll never agree to be a slave.”
“It can mean anything we want it to mean. I just wanted to give you something tangible to reassure you and me that what we have is more. It’s more a symbol of my commitment to you."
"I have the bracelet you gave me."
"This one has a lock and key for it,” he whispered and dangled the lock in his hand. I froze at his words. “One step at a time.”
The idea of wearing a piece of jewelry that basically showed ownership was hard to wrap my head around. But the thought he had left it for me before he walked away for a week, without a word, changed the way I saw the whole time we spent apart. “What about the other gifts?”
He smiled and clicked his tongue. “No, no, you should’ve opened them sooner.”
I looked back at my image in the mirror. “Your step-mom wore one but not your sister-in-law. Is your brother no longer involved with the club?”
Drake laughed. “No, silly, Charlotte and Billy met at the club except she’s not his sub. She’s his Dom.”
My hand slipped from my neck and slammed into the dresser. “What? She’s the Dom but she’s the girl.”
He had already started kissing down my neck and on to my collarbone. “Stereotypes, my pet. He is also bi. Is that a problem?"
I shook my head, not caring what Billy was as long as he was happy.
"There are truly no rules to what anybody can be. The only limitations we have in this world are the ones we put on ourselves.” He slapped my butt. “Now, get ready I’m taking you on a real date.”
I spun around, surprised by his words. “The club may be a real date in your world but not mine.”
“Changed my mind, women are not the only people capable of that. We’re going somewhere else. Meet you down stairs in fifteen minutes.”
“So no sex?”
“Oh, if you are a very good girl, maybe just maybe, I’ll fit it in between this or that.”
I gripped his arm when he started to walk away. “I trust you.”
“Be careful who you trust, the devil started out as an angel.” One side of his mouth turned up seductively.
Cherry Webb
As I descended the stairs, I got a glimpse of Drake’s back as he peered out the window, his shoulders firm and straight. I fingered my newest piece of jewelry. The man standing in front of me had more on his shoulders than he would admit to, and I wouldn’t forget his disappearing acts so easily, but I would give him my best.
He peeked over his shoulder and winked. “Ready,” he asked.
I had changed out of my wrinkled clothes and replaced them with a powder blue sundress that Ruby gave me last Mother’s Day. Of course, Drake had worn the same outfit all day and still looked like he stepped off the pages of GQ magazine.
“I’ve just got to grab my purse.” I retrieved it off the entry hall buffet, and we started for the door. “So are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
“You’re going with me,” he said, and lifted an eyebrow.
I bumped his shoulder as we walked out the door. “Why do I feel like everything with you will be a surprise?”
“Because you are very observant, Mrs. Webb.” He laughed, an authentic laugh that came from deep within his chest. “First, we are going to eat at my favorite place, Granny’s Fishes, it's a hell of a lot better than your Touchdown Wings.”
Granny’s Fishes was in downtown Memphis, on Riverside Drive which borders the mighty Mississippi River. The road was lined with your typical boutiques, the town’s overabundant share of antique shops, and the classier restaurants. Then there was Granny’s Fishes which was in a category all on its own.
I still found it hard to believe this was the place he wanted to eat at, as he turned onto a small parking lot bordering a row of high-end condos. A few dozen cars and several trucks were parked in front of the establishment. It looked rather run-down, especially for the area. The roof over a broad porch was sagging in multiple places, peeling, chipping paint surrounded all the windows. As bad as the outside look the inside was even cheesier. It was decorated with nets, anchors, oars, hundreds of license plates, and old rusty hubcaps.
His hand tapped against mine and he hesitated. After taking my hand in his, he shrugged. “I haven’t had a real date since I was sixteen.”
I don’t know what he expected me to say or even think, but he wore a satisfied expression as we wove our way among the tables. Most of the customers looked like they worked hard for a living. Never, have I seen so many televisions, playing ESPN. The jukebox was playing some gritty country music song. I couldn’t begin to tell you which one. All country music depressed the crap out of me.
Granny's Fishes was completely on the other end of the spectrum from The Pier. But as we took a seat at the first empty table we came across, I saw the one thing both The Pier and Granny’s Fishes had in common, the view. The table was in perfe
ct alignment to take in the landscape of the river. Note to self: he must have a thing for waterways.
“The river, I like watching the water. You can learn a lot about life from it,” he said, and followed my line of vision.
“From the water?” I asked, and down casted my eyes, feeling the blush come to my cheeks.
“For one, water is a metaphor for love. A person can fall and drown in it, your body thrives on it, but the only way it can sink you is if you let it in. “
I glanced over at him and took in his face as he stared out over the horizon. His expression was haunting, and I couldn’t help but believe it was the words not the water that somehow put that look on his face.
“Do you come here often?”
“No, not really. Grace loves the frog legs here.”
“Frog Legs,” I repeated and reached for the paper menu sandwiched between a grease covered napkin holder and bottles of ketchup and Country Bob’s steak sauce.
My phone’s loud, obnoxious ring started sounding off. I went to switch it to silent when I saw it was from Ruby. I laid a finger on the off button, sure it was some daddy drama she wanted to complain about when that mother's intuition kicked in. I held up a finger singling to Drake to give me a moment.
“What?” I said, a tad annoy she was interrupting my night.
“Mommy, it’s Henry. He fell and bumped his head and won’t quit bleeding,” Ruby cried into the phone.
“What is your Dad saying? He is a doctor.”
“He’s not here and won’t answer his phone.”
“Call the ambulance. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
Instinctively, I grabbed my stuff. “It’s Henry.” I felt like I had taken a baseball bat to the heart. Ten seconds stretched into eternity as we raced to the car. Another second before I slammed into the passenger seat and Drake’s commanding voice broke through to me.
“Babe, are you going to calm down enough to tell me what is going on,” he said and turned on the air conditioner. The air was stifling, and the humidity coming off the river only added to the repression. I was relieved we took my car and not his motorcycle. I would be taking my kids home tonight. Not riding off into the sunset or to any damn club for that matter.
“Henry fell and is hurt.”
Drake pulled out into the traffic, without hardly a glance, swerving through the cars and trucks as we headed to the interstate.
The air became thick as the silence wrapped around us like a hot, humid storm cloud. I was frantic to get to my son. On the other hand, Drake sudden shift was a mystery.
“Is your husband going to be there?”
“I have no idea. He left the kids at home to . . . I don’t know what the hell he was doing. I just need to get to my baby.”
Drake accelerated much too quickly down the city streets, and didn’t seem to be paying attention to the road. He grinded his teeth and his thoughts seem to be miles from where we were.
“You don’t have to stay around when we get there.”
He looked away, deliberating. “I’m not leaving you alone to deal.”
He took my hand in his and almost smiled.
I glanced away from his face, trying to find words when I happened to notice the speedometer.
I started to scream at him to slow down but I shot a panicky glance out the window instead. It was worth risking the chance of becoming road kill to get to my kids faster. The only part of the road visible was the long, glaring patch from the bright beam of the headlights. I tried concentrating on the lines running down the street but my mind could not stop envisioning little Henry alone and crying.
Once at the hospital, I rushed to the front desk and was immediately ushered back to a small room in the corner of the ER. I pushed back the curtain, and fought a scream. Blood was everywhere. Blood was running into Henry’s eyes, coated down Ruby’s arm, Henry’s shaggy, brown hair was completely matted with blood. I couldn’t breathe or even move.
I’d never seen my children truly bleed. They’d never had more than a small cut or scraped knee. I had to force myself out of the initial shock . . . but I didn’t have too. Drake took charge, and had already scooped Henry up out of Ruby’s arm. Henry’s distressed crying tore at my heart.
“It’s okay, big boy. I got you now.” Drake sat back into a rocker and pressed a towel firmly against his head. “Come here, Momma. He is going to be okay. Just a good battle scar.”
I walked over to hold Henry’s hand. The way he was gripping Drake’s shirt, I was positive he felt secure in Drake’s arms, and I was unsure if my trembling arms could even support him.
Drake lifted the towel to inspect the wound, his brows pinched together. My stomach was too queasy to examine it myself.
“You will be able to impress your friends with this one. It’ll match my scar.” Drake remained calm and patient. He pushed his hair off his forehead and pointed to a small scar on the edge of his hairline. “Come here, Noah,” Drake said, motioning to my oldest son that had been cowering in the corner. “Don’t worry, buddy. He’s going to be okay? I promise.” Drake rubbed a hand down Noah’s back. I didn’t like promises. James constantly made promises he never kept, but something about the sound of Drake’s voice did wonders to calm my aching heart.
Within minutes, the doctor and nurse enter the small space. “Are you mom?”
“Yes.” I managed to get out of my quivering lips.
“Good. I’m Dr. Wynn. Let’s get this boy fixed up.”
They obviously had already examined Henry because within seconds they were setting up it seemed like for surgery. The doctor patted the bed and Drake raised out of his seat, holding on to a very frightened Henry.
“While they are patching you up, big boy, squeeze my hand, and if you make me scream I’ll take you for pizza.” Drake laid Henry on the stretcher, and eyed the nurse. “But I bet you’ll be too busy eyeing the pretty nurse to worry about me and pizza.”
I haven’t even paid attention to the nurse until Drake made that remark. Of course, I looked then. She was blonde, petite, and appeared to be closer to Ruby’s age than mine.
“Are you daddy?” the nurse asked Drake with a child-like giggle.
If she wasn’t about to sew up my son’s head, I would have shoved her face up against the cedar block wall.
“No, I’m the lucky man who is dating his momma. Which makes him extra special to me.”
When they gave him the numbing shot, Henry forgot all about Drake’s hand and screamed. I started to step toward them when Drake took his hand again, and started to tell him the corniest jokes. And to my surprised, Henry never paid attention to the doctor as he sown eight stitches into his head, instead he spent the whole time laughing. I don’t think anyone had tried so hard except for me to make my kids happy. It was quite possibly the first time a man had ever took time out to make Henry the center of attention. That included their father.
“You're all done here. I’ll draw up the discharge papers then you can leave,” the nurse said without even a side glance at me. Drake had already scooped Henry up in his arm.
“What did the football coach say to the broken vending machine? Give me my quarterback!” I said, mocking one of his jokes.
He licked the corner of his mouth which happen to send a chill down my spine. The kind of chill I shouldn’t have in the presence of my kids.
“Mom, don’t taunt him it worked,” Ruby said and patted Drake on the shoulder.
“Get your fucking hands off my kids.”
I twisted on the heel of my shoes to come face to face with James.
James's smile belied his anger. "I paid you to fuck my wife," he said, "I didn’t pay you to touch my kids." He spat out each word as if he were discarding something sour from his mouth.
“Dad what are you saying?” Ruby asked.
I looked over my shoulder. Drake was handing Henry to Ruby. Our eyes locked. Drake’s crystal clear blue eyes examined me with far less surprise than I examined him.
&nbs
p; “Let’s take this out in the hall,” Drake said and then tousled Noah’s hair through his fingers. “Stay in here, buddy. Mommy will be back in a minute.”
It didn’t escape me that he said Mommy and not us.
I followed Drake down the small corridor and far from earshot of the kids with James a heavy presence on my back. Drake suddenly spun around with his hand held out. When he realized he was pointing he combed his hand through his hair.
Finally, I found the words to speak. “Tell me I heard wrong. Please, Drake.” I was grasping at straws, I know.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
“Ten thousand dollars is what it took to give him the will to touch your sorry ass,” James said behind me and cackled.
“Why?” I asked James but couldn’t quit staring into Drake’s eyes. The actor in him made him appeared to be in actual pain.
“It was cheaper than paying you another penny of my money.”
I felt so nauseous I thought I might lose the contents of my stomach all over Drake’s Dockers.
“I’m taking my kids home and you two can do anything you damn will please.”
“It’s my weekend, they are going with me.” There was a bite to his words I was sure was for my benefit. I had known for years he was a man capable of doing whatever it took to get what he wanted, it was a fact with grim certainty.
I turned around to face him and fingered the necklace at my throat. “You lost that right when you left them alone to fend for themselves.”
“Cherry, talk to me,” Drake finally said, humbly.
I couldn’t face him. I had never been so hurt in my life. James had placed the final knife in my back but Drake had been the one to twist it.
“Please, look at me?” Drake said.
Unable to hear another lie, I shook my head. I had fallen in love with a man that wasn’t real. I had fallen in love with a lie.
I snapped the necklace around my neck and let it fall to the floor with a loud clank.
Cherry Bomb Page 18
