"This was a date, was it?" I asked, deciding to play along for the moment. Pretend we were out of danger. Forget that Gen had lost Dom.
Denial is a wonderful thing. I know it well, I've lived it for so long. It was time I didn't. But maybe just a few minutes more.
"Of course it's a date," Drew replied, kissing me softly behind my ear.
My back was to his chest, his arms wrapped around my stomach, my hands holding on to his as they rested in my lap. I could feel the heat of him. I could feel the strength in his frame. I could smell the dust and sweat and dirt he'd accumulated. Or that could have just been me. Whatever it was, it was mixed with Drew. And it was perfect.
At the culmination of a lethal and explosive siege, on the carpet of a half destroyed office, six floors up a structurally unsound building, I found beautiful-contentment again. If only for a moment. But it was mine.
"We had a little red," he whispered, and a breath of air escaped me in a laugh. "We proceeded to follow that up with conversation which was shades of yellow and blue. Then we had an adventure which could well be described as green and orange. And now, sternchen, we have purple at the end. The sunset, day turning to twilight, and with it a soft, tender embrace. I'd say that was the best date I've ever had."
I turned and buried my face into his neck, the tears unrepentant, my sobs coming from deep within my heart. From a place that was tainted in black, but had shadows of a rainbow at the edges.
I had no idea how I'd face Genevieve. I was guessing Drew felt the same about Nick. And then there was Katie, Dom's sister. Jason would see her through this, but oh dear God, it would be rough. No more "darling." No more movie star smiles for a long, long while.
And Genevieve. My sweet, sweet Genevieve. I couldn't even imagine how much this would hurt her.
I cried harder. Drew held me. The sounds of whoever had won the siege muffled and distant as we rode the black waves of despair together, knowing our lives had changed, uncertain if we'd survive it intact.
I'd lived through a lot. Maybe not as bad as some people, but enough to screw me up and paint the colour that was to be the rest of my life. Until Drew. My father's legacy was to leave me in shades of black. My mother's was to darken it further until it was total, a pitch black. And then along came a rainbow, who caught the sun unawares.
There'd always be parts of me that are black, but as long as I had Drew there was light in amongst the shadows. Colour to match the dazzle of the sun.
A bang sounded against the door. My heart leapt into my throat and both Drew and I startled. His arms tightening, and then he stood us both up and proceeded to push me behind his strong frame. My protector. I held my breath as we watched the door handle rattle, then almost collapsed, my legs so weak, when it burst open and revealed who was on the other side.
"Ben," I whispered as Abi's big brute of a man, with the heart of a teddy-bear, stormed through the door, his eyes darting into the corners of the room, his gun out and aimed not at us, but definitely ready to fire if need be. Finally he pulled his gaze back to Drew and I, and then sucked in a low whistle between his teeth.
"You guys look like shit," he declared, and I let the breath out that I'd been holding, my legs finally giving up and bending at the knee.
Drew tried to keep me upright against his body, but he was as tired and exhausted as me. We both ended up on the carpet again, my leg screaming, no doubt his gashes doing the same but he managed to bite his tongue. Me, I let out a little yelp of pain.
"Jesus," Ben said, rushing over. "How bad are you hurt?"
"We're OK," I said, as Drew replied at the same time, "Deep laceration to her right thigh, otherwise just cuts and scrapes with some dehydration."
Ben produced a water flask from the back of his belt and handed it over to me. I fumbled with the lid until Drew helped release it, then gratefully sucked back liquid relief.
"I'll see if the AOS medic can spare a minute to check you guys out, but Brook's busy with..."
"We won then?" Drew asked, cutting off whatever Ben had been about to say. I was thinking that was a good thing, I really didn't want to know if another friend was badly hurt. One of the ASI guys, for instance.
"Yeah, we won," Ben said. "The Senior Sergeant of the AOS put a bullet in King's head not five minutes ago."
Silence, while both Drew and I digested that. Such shocking words which somehow managed to make you feel relieved. Was that wrong?
I wasn't going to judge it, at least not today.
"Your distraction was fuckin' brilliant," Ben went on, as I handed the last of the water to Drew. "Fuckin' genius! We slipped in and had the first lot of mercs disarmed before those surroundin' King realised it was a trap. And fuck, that intel on the door to the roof. Fuckin' awesome. There are a group of extremely relieved AOS guys out there who wanna shake your hands."
Ben leaned forward and clamped a big mitt on Drew's shoulder and another on mine at the same time, and then he gave a somewhat surprising gentle squeeze.
"Fuckin' brilliant," he whispered, sincerity in every word.
I lifted my eyes to his, weariness making me lower my guard and say the words aloud.
"We were too late," I said through a lump in my throat that I was sure I'd have for the rest of my life.
"For some of 'em, yeah," Ben agreed. "But not all of 'em. There's twenty hostages alive on the fourth floor, another twelve here includin' the judge."
"Twelve?" Drew and I said at the same time, my surprise at the number pushing any thoughts of Drew's Justice Crane to the back of my mind. I was relieved she'd made it, but I'd only counted ten surviving hostages as well as the judge when we got here. I must have miscounted, but then so had Drew.
"Yeah, twelve," Ben said. "Although how the fuck Dom's still alive I'll never know. Guess he's keen to get hitched to Gen, eh?" Ben chuckled, unaware that Drew and I had ceased breathing, clinging to each other while our hearts and minds realigned to this news.
"Alive," I whispered, as Drew said, "Fucking hell."
Ben quietened, having caught on to the atmosphere or seen the shock on our joint faces.
"Yeah, well," he said, voice level and low. "He's gonna have a fuckin' sore head for a few days and he lost a lot of blood, but he's alive. Because of you two. And possibly a shit load of luck."
Because of you two.
And possibly a shit load of luck.
I glanced up at the ceiling, not seeing the cracked tiles there but something else. Something heavenly, perhaps celestial. Something I hadn't believed in, but couldn't deny now.
Miracles and rainbows, two new things in my world.
"Thank you," I whispered, my eyes finding one more tear to let loose down my cheek. "Thank you."
Thank you for Dom. And thank you for Drew.
Somehow I wasn't sure if black would ever find its way back in.
Not now. Not ever. Not with those kind of gifts.
Epilogue
Five Weeks Later
"I, Dominic, take you, Genevieve, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, when the bullets fly or when we're just cuddled on the couch. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life."
I turned my head slightly from the surreal and wonderful sight of my best friend standing in front of the minister, on the beach at Cockle Bay, in the most gorgeous wedding dress I had ever seen, and looked at Drew standing beside an almost fully recovered Dominic.
It had been five weeks since the siege. Five weeks since the criminal underworld of Auckland city had been rocked by the brutality of that day and the death of the most insidiously evil man I have ever known. Fifty people had died. Dominic was not one of them.
But he'd suffered, and so had Gen, through the ensuing days that followed. He was released from hospital three weeks later, insisting that Gen organise the wedding at the soonest possible date. They'd missed the original day, of course. Hard to attend your nuptials when you're confined to a bed with drips h
anging out of both arms, recovering from a bullet wound and bruised cranium.
But he was alive. That thought never grew old. Dominic was alive. But fifty other people were not. It was the type of massacre that makes the world news headlines. A blatant disregard for human life on a massive scale. It had hit New Zealand hard. Auckland and the law community in particular.
The District Court building was deemed unsafe, cordoned off and planned for controlled demolition in the near future. It still stood, a reminder for now of what had transpired.
Fifty deaths.
All because a callous and evil man wanted to contain the fallout for his business interests when one of his innermost circle was tried in a court of law for crimes connected to him. It was estimated that Declan King could have potentially lost not only his freedom from the information uncovered during that unscheduled trial, but also millions of dollars from the network of criminal contacts that made up the drug lord's associates. None of who were pleased to have their dirty laundry washed through the legal system. The repercussions were so great for the criminal boss that it was enough for him to mount a siege, condemn a building and kill fifty people.
Drew smiled across the aisle, a crooked smirk that made my heart rate speed, making the recent memories burst to dust inside my head. He'd always been able to do that, right from the moment he walked past my counter at Sweet Seduction for the very first time. That lopsided grin that spoke of wicked and red pastimes. Hot and illicit and debauched. But there were layers there now, deeper and more meaningful than just plain red.
For the past five weeks I'd delved into the very heart of them, sifting through the blues and greens and yellows and oranges and purples, occasionally revisiting red. I'd played in amongst that particular colour for fifteen years, denying the real reasons why I did it. I'd told myself I was a free spirit, a bohemian child of love. I'd had no idea, at all, of what love actually was until Drew walked in Sweet Seduction's door.
Denial is a wonderful thing until you wake up and see the rainbow.
And then the real fun begins.
I can't say it's all been a barrel of laughs, sometimes you have to reach rock bottom before you're strong enough to climb back out towards the light. But I can say, it was worth it. That bright, brilliant, vibrant light of a rainbow that Drew Kline has given to me.
It was so worth it.
I smiled back at Drew, offering a signature Kelly Quayle smirk of my own. One that said, you promised me a little red in a closet at the reception. Drew stifled a laugh and turned back to the bride and groom shaking his head softly.
"I, Genevieve," - My head spun back to my best friend, who sounded so sweet and breathless. I was sure her voice would have cracked and tears would have flowed, but my girl Gen has grown these past few months, tears aren't her first go-to anymore. - "take you, Dominic, as my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, when life gets chaotic and the house is full to burst with our friends, making you a little mad in the head or when it's just you and me... and our kids." A sigh sounded out through the congregation, and now it was me pretending not to cry. Damn it. "I will love you and honour you all the days of my life."
They looked perfect together. Him in a traditional morning suit; dark grey long line jacket, with lighter grey pinstriped trousers and matching waistcoat, a subtle silver checked tie with crisp white shirt. A pink rose was threaded through his buttonhole on the coat, which matched the bouquet of pale, ice pink baby roses Gen carried.
Gen wore an ice pink flowing dress, which pooled at her feet and was tied with a matching sash above her rounded belly, accentuating the curves and puffing out her breasts. Hanging icicle crystal beads edged the low neckline and capped sleeves. Otherwise the dress was unadorned, the simple, soft and smooth fabric painted a picture of a fertile goddess, making Gen look like she should grace the cover of a fantasy fashion magazine. Her hair was piled up on top of her head with the odd curled blonde strand framing her face and skimming her bared shoulders.
Her bridesmaids all wore slightly darker pink, in Grecian styled, pleated, flowing, ankle length dresses, the material covering just one shoulder, and the sash at our waist a contrasting purple-black. That one touch of darker colour grounded our outfits, whereas Gen's looked like it could float away on a soft breeze. We all held smaller bouquets of pink and purple roses.
The men matched Dom, their buttonhole roses the only difference. Theirs were the purple of the bridesmaids'. My eyes automatically went back to Drew. As pretty as the bridal party was, I couldn't help returning my gaze to him as the marriage celebrant talked about love and commitment and the joys and sanctity of marriage.
I'd never considered marriage before. Not surprising, considering it's illegal to marry more than one partner at once in New Zealand and I'd been maintaining a stable of five for quite some time. Marriage hadn't even featured in my daydreams. But looking at how handsome Drew was, standing there handing Dominic the wedding rings, I wondered, for the first time ever in my life, what it would be like to stand opposite him under that wedding arch and hold his hands as he pushed the ring onto my finger the way Dom was doing right now with Gen.
It was an unusual sensation. I couldn't tell if it scared me or gave me butterflies in my belly. Something flipped, and I couldn't put it into words.
Not that Drew was anywhere near asking me to marry him. Granted we'd settled into a beautiful-content lifestyle, with occasional splashes of red in amongst the blues and greens and yellows. But this was all still so new to me, so different from what I'd allowed myself to have in the past. In all honesty, I still wondered if it was a trick, a joke on me. And I'd wake up tomorrow painted in black.
I came out of my ill timed dark musings to find Drew watching me, concern flickering in those soft grey eyes. Somehow he always knew when I was teetering on that edge, staring down a bleak tunnel shrouded in shadows, walking away from red.
I know now there is more than black and red, but sometimes it seems a simpler way to see life, through just one or the other. It's easier, a coward's way out. But I have never been a coward. And besides, all I have to do is remind myself of everything we've been through, of the answers to my prayers. I just have to look into dove grey and see a rainbow. I just have to watch Genevieve with Dominic and know God must exist. I just have to feel not only contentment, but beautiful-contentment.
I just have to remember the way Drew wakes me up every single day.
Bizet's Au Fond Du Temple Saint.
Every morning since the siege Drew has set our alarm to play that song. That beautiful, rainbow song. And every morning as it wakes me up, Drew does the same. First with kisses, and then soft and tender caresses. And finally with love.
Drew makes love to me every single morning to Bizet.
The first time he did it I cried through the entire experience. Hot, silent tears of pure bliss. Drew making love to me in my new shagalicious bed. I had never felt so many deep emotions at once in my life before. Red is red. It's usually fast paced and hot and sweaty. But Drew had been right, making love was slow and tender, still hot and sweaty, but totally involved. Red was selfish really. Making love involved someone else.
Body, mind, heart and soul. I feel it inside my chest. I feel it inside my head. My body craves the next sweet caress, my nerves tingle and my breath rushes out in eager puffs of air.
And it makes me wet, not because it's naughty or dangerous, but because I can't help wanting to connect with Drew, to share a part of myself, to let him in and let him take me to a place I have only ever dreamed about in the past. A mystical and magical place; safe, but so exquisitely exciting that I can't believe it's real. But I know now, that it is.
Drew has made it real. Making love isn't any one colour, but it's abso-fucking-lutely, posi-fucking-tively out... of... this... world.
And I can't wait for tomorrow morning, when he'll do it all over again.
A spark of heat flashed in his eyes, still holding m
y gaze across the aisle as the celebrant wound up the ceremony, an exquisitely happy Gen and Dom smiling at each other as he announced, "You may kiss your bride."
Cries and shouts and wolf-whistles sounded out from the congregation, Drew laughing and hooting with the rest. This was my rainbow. This was what I had earned.
I don't blame my father anymore for what I became. He had his reasons and I'm guessing he only did what he needed to do to survive. It had been harsh and cruel, capped off with unfair when my mother lost her will to live and became a useless, uncaring shell.
But I don't blame them anymore. What's done is done. And all I can see when I look at my friends, when I look at Drew, is my past brought me to this. This rainbow moment. This rainbow life. Not a hint of black to be seen.
The black is hidden inside me though and always will be, but as long as I have these people in my life, I know that their rainbows of colours will shine on any shadows that exist.
I've lived with darkness and been strong enough to survive.
"Sternchen" Drew suddenly whispered in my ear. I hadn't realised he'd made it to my side, everyone was congratulating the happy couple, people surrounded us, a crowd of smiling, laughing family and friends. "Mr and Mrs Dominic Anscombe are about to be mobbed," he added. "Let's slip away for a second while they deal with the masses."
"What did you have in mind, Mr Kline?" I asked, letting him slip his hand into mine, fingers entwining, as he dragged me across the beach and towards the restaurant Gen and Dom had booked for the reception. An old converted character cottage that would be bursting at the seams by the end of the evening, I was sure. A large white marquee was set up outside to accommodate the overflow, the restaurant itself relegated for children attending, while the adults celebrated up hard outside.
It was a beautiful spot, right across a quiet cul-de-sac road from the white sand beach itself. We would be having photos out on the sand shortly, but Gen and Dom were determined not to spend too long being captured on film, instead wanting a few key posed photos and the rest of their album made up of snapshots of family and friends; enjoying themselves, enjoying life. I now understood that simple pleasurable desire, and although it did harbour a little red, it was a sweet and innocent one, worthy of my best friend.
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